“They are, but they were not married at the time of the defendant’s arrest.”
She raised a brow. “Were your brothers intimately involved with these women at that time?”
I resisted a grimace, refusing to move a muscle. “They were.”
“Are you aware that both Emersyn Hawthorn and Lark Meadows are listed as victims in this case?”
“I am aware, Ms. Carpenter.” Her name came out with more bite than I intended.
She stilled at that, but she recovered quickly. “Were you also aware of their experiences as victims when preparing your psychological assessment of Mr. Anderson?”
I balled my hands into fists. Of course I knew exactly the kinds of horrors they had survived at the hands of that man.
“Yes, but my role requires objectivity. Much of my work is conducted within correctional and forensic institutions, evaluating and treating offenders. My focus is on understanding criminal behavior, not judging it. If anything, my professional experience is weighted toward working with perpetrators rather than victims.”
She touched her watch again, only briefly. Then she leaned against the podium, giving me a look that was somewhere between sympathy and contempt. “Thank you for the explanation, Doctor, but do you expect this court to believe that you were capable of complete neutrality?”
Her determination was palpable. In other circumstances, it might even be admirable. The moment Quinn Carpenter had set her mind to this argument, I was done for. I could sense that truth.
“This court knows that I am more than competent at my job.” My stare bore into her, willing that ice blue to crack. It didn’t. “I do not make assessments based on anything but the facts before me.”
“The facts you choose to see, based on your opinion, isn’t that correct?”
I bristled. “My opinion as a professional withyearsof experience, yes.”
But it didn’t matter how hard I defended myself. She had already won this battle, and the biggest surprise was that I was almost more mad at myself than her. She was good.
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Quinn returned to the defense table with a composed, satisfied expression. Her work was done. The prosecution rose for redirect and attempted to salvage what they could, but the damage was already irreversible. Nothing they asked made a dent in the foundation she had dismantled piece by piece.
The judge issued his ruling swiftly. My initial psychological profile and report were deemed inadmissible due to clear conflict, and the defense’s motion was granted.
I stepped down from the stand knowing I should have expected this outcome—and yet the impact of it still caught me off guard. As I left the courtroom, I avoided looking at Quinn, though I felt her presence like a pressure at my back.
A presence I feared would haunt me for a while.
3
Quinn
Thewaitresssetmyplate down on the table so hard the cutlery rattled.
She didn’t look at me as she refilled my water and left the table without a word.
The diner was cute, in a rustic sort of way. One of the few options available to sit down and eat in Ember Hollow.Unfortunately, it wasn’t as welcoming as the atmosphere indicated.
My bosses, the two lead lawyers and partners in the firm, invited me to lunch after the success in court today. Celebrating the small wins.
Preston’s attention flicked from me to our waitress, who stood at the hostess stand, whispering with the other employees. They sent us tight-lipped glares, as if we couldn’t see them from our table.
He sighed. “Seems word has gotten around about who we are.”
I straightened my spine, annoyed. “They don’t have to be rude.”
George nodded, the wrinkles around his mouth deepening. “Don’t let it bother you. Small towns can be protective of their own.”
“I’m pretty sure our client is one of their own,” I muttered darkly, distracted by the glares drilling into my back. It was like the whole restaurant was watching us. Judging us.
