Something flickered behind his eyes. Good. He knew exactly what I meant.
“Daniel Kearns sent over nine hundred text messages to Faith,” I said. “This year alone. Stalking. Threatening. Obsessive.”
Take that, you smug bastard.
“Three police reports buried in bureaucratic backlogs, filed under Nonviolent.” I couldn’t keep the satisfaction out of myvoice. “Shows Faith tried to get help through proper channels. You’re prosecuting the wrong person, Counselor. The real threat was the man you’re trying to paint as a saint.”
Wolfe studied me with the detached interest of a scientist observing a particularly fascinating bug. “Feel better now that you’ve read her diary out loud?”
“She followed the law. She tried to get help, and you’re crucifying her for surviving.”
The silence stretched between us like a taut wire. Then Wolfe turned and opened his briefcase with movements so slow and deliberate that they made my skin crawl. He pulled out a thin manila envelope, handling it like it contained pure gold.
“Nice presentation.” His fingers traced the red tabs I’d used to organize the evidence. “I especially like the color coordination. But while you were busy playing arts and crafts, I was listening.”
He slid a transcript across the desk. The 911 header made my chest tighten.
“From a neighbor near Faith’s second home.” His casual tone didn’t match the predatory gleam in his eyes. “Oh, yes, Faith has a second home. Uses it to house various … colorful characters.” He shook his head with mock disappointment. “I’ll try to get that house seized when she goes to prison. Anyway, this neighbor called 911 when he heard Faith yelling, and I quote, ‘If you come near me again, I’ll kill you.’”
My stomach dropped like a stone, but I forced my expression to remain neutral.Poker face, Kincaid. Don’t give him the satisfaction.
I knew Faith had threatened to kill the guy, but that was easier to explain away when it was just hearsay. A moment of anger that could be dismissed as venting. But if there was awitnesswho’d actuallyheardit? Someone who could testify that Faith was erratic, furious, genuinely murderous?
And worse, that threat was explosive enough that this witness felt compelled to call 911?
That changed everything.
“That neighbor could’ve misheard. Most of Faith’s surrounding neighbors are elderly. I’ll be interviewing them about their hearing reliability.”
This wasn’t the defense I’d planned to use in court, but I wouldn’t show him those cards.
Wolfe’s smile could’ve powered half the city. “You do that.”
He slid another document across the polished surface. This one looked official. Damning.
“In the meantime, you might want to read this transcript from a voice memo—recorded just hours before the victim’s death.”
The words on the page blurred, then snapped into sharp, terrible focus:
If I end up dead, it’s her. She said she’d do it. She looked me in the eyes and said no one would believe me. I just wanted her to talk to me. I never meant to scare her … but now I think she’s going to kill me.
The bottom dropped out of my world.Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Interesting thing about fear,” Wolfe said, leaning back in his chair like a cat who’d cornered the perfect mouse. “You know what people do when they think they’re genuinely in danger?”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
“They call the police.” He folded his hands on his desk, the picture of reasonable authority. “But Faith didn’t do that, did she? She took justice into her own hands.”
His pause felt like a noose tightening.
“And you know how that story ends.”
The reference to Knox hit like a blade to my chest. My friend’s face flashed through my mind. The conviction. The years behind bars. The way it had changed him.
Wolfe’s smile widened at my expression.
“I do hope Blake is prepared for regular prison visits with his sister,” he continued with false sympathy. “Though I suppose he’s already had practice.”
