Once we’re on the road to the courthouse, Franklin, who’s sitting next to me and Ian on the bench seat, breaks the quiet. “When we get to the courthouse, we have two other agents who will be escorting us in and out of the building. Once inside, it’ll just be me and Jenson. You need to stay with us, preferably both of us, but at least one. While your boyfriend here is well-trained, it’s still our asses on the line if something happens to you. You’ll be called first, but we may have to wait a little while until they are ready. There’s a small conference room reserved for us, so we don’t have to be in the hallway. Any questions?”
I shake my head, and Ian’s fingers contract where ours are intertwined and resting on his thigh. I lean into him a little more, needing to keep the connection.
It isn’t long before we roll to a stop in front of the ornate courthouse, and lightheadedness overtakes me, making me sway in my seat. But the familiar warmth of an arm on my shoulders steadies me. As we step outside, two agents I don’t recognize surround us, and we once again make the silent trek closer to facing one of my greatest fears.
Once inside the conference room, I settle into one of the chairs and try to steady my nerves. The energy around me isrestless and filled with a trepidation that makes my skin feel tight and suffocating.
After about an hour, the bailiff enters to tell me it’s time. Before the words are out of his mouth, my palms are clammy, and my throat gets dry. I stand on unsteady legs as Ian gives me an encouraging hug and a quick kiss before releasing me so I can follow the bailiff. Franklin told me that no one’s allowed to accompany me, and that they’ll be waiting right outside the door when I’m done.
I lick my dry lips as the courtroom door is opened. Straightening my spine, I take a step into the room. More pairs of eyes than I’m comfortable with turn to stare at me as I make my way up to the front of the courtroom. I focus on taking deep, steady breaths and making sure I don’t trip. I’m shown to the witness stand, and I slowly pivot toward the court. My heart is beating so hard, I worry I won’t be able to hear the questions asked of me. I avoid looking in the direction of where Reese is sitting, partially hoping I can avoid looking at him throughout my entire testimony.
The bailiff steps up to me. “Please raise your right hand.”
I comply.
“Do you swear the testimony you shall give to the court in this manner shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
Dizziness washes over me, and I quickly say, “I do.”
“You may have a seat.”
Lowering into the chair, I cross my ankles and focus on my breathing.
The prosecutor I’ve met with a few times approaches. “Miss Grant.” Hearing my real last name helps ground me somewhat as I take another deep breath. “Do you know the defendant, Reese McMasters?”
She gestures in the direction of Reese, and every cell in my body fights the urge to glance in his direction.
“Yes, we met six years ago and dated for about five years.”
She nods. “And during that time you were dating, what did you think Mr. McMasters did for a job?”
“He told me he was in real estate development.”
“And you didn’t have any reason to doubt that?”
I hesitate, and my eyes flick to Reese. The look on his face chills me to my bones. I would be less unnerved if it were fury I saw, but instead, it’s a mix of amusement and condescension. As if he believes nothing I do can stop him. Like nothing I say will put him away for the rest of his life, and I’ll spend the remainder of mine living in fear.
“I didn’t doubt him at first, but then I started seeing things that made me think that isn’t how he made money.”
“And what did you see?”
“Meetings with random people at odd times of the day in buildings that don’t look very conducive to a real estate business. Then it was the occasional drug deal, which eventually turned more frequent.” I wet my lips. “I started to see him become violent with people.”
“Do you know who Judge Kelly is, Miss Grant?”
“I do.”
“How do you know him? Was it from the news stories you may have seen?”
“No, I saw him before the news stories. I, uh, didn’t know his name at the time. That I did find out from the news.”
The prosecutor takes a few steps closer. “If the news wasn’t where you knew him from, where had you met him before?”
The moment of truth.
“I saw him the night Reese killed him and forced me to help dispose of the body.”
30
