Page 11 of Matlock
“Anthony, Simon doesn’t need a lawyer to make a statement,” the judge pointed out.
“He does when he’s a fucking suspect!” Tony snarled, and I felt his angry glare deep in my soul.
“HE’S WHAT?” I winced at Uncle Alex’s bellow. “Simon Augustine Nelson! What is he saying?”
Great. Now I had three angry men glaring at me. Not just one.
“Can I please just go in and give my statement? The sheriff is waiting for me.”
“Not without a lawyer, young man,” Uncle Alex ordered.
“You have a law degree,” I told him, my hands on my hips. Tony growled beside me, and Uncle Alex’s eyes widened before he smirked at me.
“I’m a judge, and as the judge for this county, I am ordering Anthony to be your lawyer. And as your uncle, I am ordering you to let him.” I opened my mouth to protest when the judge held up his hand and shook his head. “I will call your parents.”
“Uncle Alex, it’s not—”
“I will call them anyway, if this becomes a bigger issue. Do not test me, boy,” Uncle Alex scolded. “Now listen to whatAnthony tells you.”
The judge brushed past me and slipped into the station. Goliath stood behind Tony, his hand over his mouth. “Fuck off, Goliath.” Goliath stopped pretending and let his laughter ring out through the parking lot.
“My work here is done. I’ll update King; let me know what happens with the statement.” Goliath walked down the front steps, leaving Tony and me standing alone in front of the door.
Tony crossed his arms over his chest. The material of his jacket pulled against his biceps, highlighting the muscles I knew he hid beneath the expensive suit.
“Are you proud of yourself?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I rolled my eyes at his arrogant grin, ignoring the dimple that had the power to turn me into a puddle, and turned to go inside. Tony grabbed my arm, stopping me from leaving.
“Simon, please let me help you.”
“I will not sacrifice my sister, Tony.”
“Fine. But let me go over the statement with you before you talk to the sheriff.”
I blew out a breath and nodded. We walked into the station, and Tony asked for a room so we could go over the statement one more time. The sheriff didn’t have to know we hadn’t gone over it at all.
Tony helped me put together the statement, making sure it was within the realm of self-defense—which wasn’t easy to do since Alan had been stabbed in the back.
However, in Nebraska, self-defense only required that I feared for my life or the life of someone else. I could sell that. I’d been in fear for my sister’s life since the first time Alan had hit her.
We sat in the interrogation room for almost an hour before the sheriff was finally satisfied with the story I’d given him. We walked out of the room, Tony in front of me, ironing out a few minor details with the sheriff, when Tony stopped so abruptly that I slammed into his back.
“Sheriff, my name is Rosalind Winthrop.”
“What can I do for you, Ms. Winthrop?” The sheriff shook the woman’s hand. She was beautiful, in a pretentious sort of way. Tony hadn’t moved since I heard her voice, so I slipped around him.
“My office received a notice of the murder that occurred last evening, a...” She flipped a page on the stack of papers she held in her hand. “Alan Sanders. The county has decided to prosecute.”
“What!? It was self-defense!” I shouted.
“Simon, close your fucking mouth,” Tony snarled at me.
The woman looked over at my outburst and smiled. “Anthony Gallagher? Last I heard, you were living in Arkansas. I’m surprised to see you in a small Midwestern town like Diamond Creek.”
“I’m just as surprised to see you here, Rosalind,” Tony countered. His voice had a strange lilt to it. One I’d never heard before.
