Taking Connor(61)
My stomach twists with his words. “What does that mean?”
“It means Blake wouldn’t have wanted you to give up, so you shouldn’t.” I swallow the knot in my throat. Jim and Blake had become close in his last few months. Blake had built himself a pretty successful freelance business and in addition to handling Blake’s will, Jim also assisted in the sale of Blake’s business.
He flips open his briefcase and pulls out a card from a pocket inside, then hands it to me. “This is a good bondsman. I’d advise you to call tonight, let them get your information. Might make things go smoother after the hearing. But Demi,” he pauses, “don’t get your hopes up. There’s a very good chance he won’t make bail.”
Ignoring him and his pessimistic warning, I murmur, “Let’s hope you’re worth your pay, Jim.”
His head rears back ever so slightly in offense, but he stops himself with a shrug, probably deeming me an emotional woman and not worth justifying with a response. It was a shitty thing to say, but I need positive thoughts right now, not dismal predictions.
Closing his briefcase he stands and replies, “I’ll see you in the morning. If you remember anything, call me. Talk to no one before you contact me.” Then he leaves me sitting on the hard wooden bench, wondering how I’m going to make myself move.
After taking the hottest shower I’ve ever taken in my life and scrubbing my skin raw to remove all traces of blood, I tossed and turned all night, anxious for the morning. But standing behind Jim as the Judge walks in with his furry gray brows and anal retentive stature he wears as well as his black robe, I don’t feel tired at all. I’m fueled by fear right now. This guy looks like he loves nothing more than to say the words: Bail denied. After the judge takes his seat, we all sit and shortly after, Connor is brought in. He’s wearing an orange jumpsuit, and with his canvas of tattoos, he looks every bit of the stereotypical convict. I try to ignore the murmurs and whispers that fill the courtroom, but it’s hard. I want to scream at everyone to shut up and tell them Connor is innocent. I don’t know how I know this. Especially since I can’t remember anything, but I just do. Connor didn’t kill Mr. Jenson. I know it as sure as I know myself. As he’s led in, his wrists cuffed in front of him, a guard on each side, I stare at him, willing him to look up and meet my gaze. I want him to know I’m here, that no matter what, I have his back.
But he doesn’t look at me.
In fact? I think he’s intentionally looking at anything but me. Choking back the hurt I feel, I focus on the most important issue at hand.
When he’s in front of his chair, the guards undo his cuffs, and he takes a seat next to Jim, who begins whispering to him. The courtroom door creaks as it’s opened, and I glance back to see Lexi hightailing in, her heels click-clacking and echoing through the room. Her eye makeup is slightly smeared, but not as bad as usual, which means she probably licked a takeout napkin from her glove box and tried to clean up a bit before she came in. Not much can be said for her outfit; jean mini-skirt and flowy silk top. I left her a million voicemails last night and never heard from her. I guess she finally got them.
She rushes to me and is already hugging me as she sits beside me. “I’m so sorry, Demi. My phone died, and I left it in my car. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her as I pull away, “Thank you for coming.”
The hearing begins and the prosecutor basically hammers it in that Connor is an already convicted violent felon and shouldn’t be on the streets because he’s not only a flight risk but a threat to society. Jim makes a good argument that Connor has been in good standing with his probation, has a growing and reputable business and is attempting to become a pillar in his community. He tells the judge about Connor’s work with victims of sexual abuse and states he has character witnesses that will attest to his docile personality. Connor looks to Jim, a scowl on his face. What is that about?
My mind turns over at the news of the volunteer work with victims of sexual abuse. How did I not know this? Why didn’t he tell me?
Jim also argues that there is no one to identify Connor as the murderer and at this time there is absolutely no proof that he had anything to do with it. The judge grants bail, at two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars and warns Connor not do anything stupid. Is he serious? As the sound of his hammer cracks across the courtroom, Lexi squeezes my hand. Jim pats Connor on the back as he stands and holds his wrists out for the guard to cuff him again. I wait, practically begging in a silent plea, look at me, Connor. But he doesn’t. The guards lead him away, taking my heart with them.
Jim turns, and Lexi and I stand. “We can get him out by this afternoon. Are you sure you want to do this, Demi?”
I don’t respond directly to his question. It’s a dumb question, and he already knows the answer. “They have all my information. They just need a number, Jim.”
He nods once. “I’ll call you when you’re able to pick him up.”
I nod in return and Lexi tugs my hand leading me out of the courtroom. “Holy shit,” she breathes as we enter the hallway heading toward the exit. “What the f*ck happened, Demi?”
“Mr. Jenson was murdered, and Mrs. Jenson says Connor did it.” I had stated this in the voicemails I left her last night, but apparently she needs a reminder.