Page 102 of Hunter or Hunted

The letter Simone got in the mail said her hearing would start at 11:30 A.M. The clock on the wall now read 1:22 P.M.

We’d sat in the hall outside the courtroom for the last three hours, watching the other hearings wrap up. Five minutes ago, Simone’s lawyer, Kathy Allen, spoke with a man in a suit at the end of the hall, and he instructed us to go inside.

Angela already sat at the table on the left. Another man in a suit sat beside her. Mid-forties, attractive, clean-cut. From the looks of it, a better attorney than I’d thought Angela could afford.

Simone and Kathy sat at the table on the right. I sat in the first row behind her, close enough that I could reach out and give her shoulder a squeeze if she needed it. When the lull of Angela speaking and laughing with her attorney stretched on a minute or two too long, I noticed Simone’s breath picking up. Her hands, folded on top of the mahogany table, began trembling.

She needed the squeeze.

She jumped at my touch, but when she looked at me, her posture eased the slightest bit. I shaped my lips in an O and exhaled slowly. She did the same, tension melting with each breath. I managed a smile, just as a hand tapped my left shoulder.

Simone’s panic returned as we both looked that way.

Edwards.

He wore his uniform and a sweet smile. With a nod at Kathy, he said, “She figured it was best I was here. Just in case we need another testimony.”

“And we shouldn’t,” Kathy said to Simone, voice low. “This is cut and dry. That woman has nothing on you.”

Simone only nodded.

A voice from somewhere I couldn’t discern bounced off the domed ceiling overhead. “All rise for the honorable Judge Walker presiding.”

Already on my feet, I didn’t need to.

Simone and Kathy did, however. So did Angela and her lawyer.

Angela kept her gaze ahead. I think we were all grateful for that.

As the judge told us to be seated, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The judge and lawyers spoke some legal jargon that didn’t register as I glanced down at it.

Sebastian

It’s coming along

Followed by a picture.

Four walls, insulated and painted sparkling white. The concrete floor he’d poured last week now had a shimmering layer of white over top, speckled with little flecks of gray and black.

White, because it made clean up easier.

He had today off. We spent most days off together, working on the house. Since I wasn’t there to help, he decided to tackle an easier job today.

Finishing the barn turned garage.

We were almost ready.

I texted back.

It sure is! That looks amazing, baby.

“Is that up at the house?” Edwards whispered.

I nodded. “Garage is just about finished now.”

“The whole thing’ll be badass when it’s done. I better get invited to the housewarming party.”

If we weren’t in a courtroom, I’d laugh. “You know you will be. But thanks. And thanks for this.”