Everett slept like a corpse, so very soundly that every now and again I checked to see if he was still breathing. I guess he really does have a stomach of steel.

  Evie slept like a baby, and ironically the baby slept as if she, too, indulged in a few too many hot wings. Then, at just about five-thirty, once my head hit the pillow and I fell into an instant deep sleep, a certain dead rooster decided to resurrect himself right over my bed as he doled out the loudest rooster call known to the living or the dead.

  Suffice it to say, I’m a walking, talking zombie today.

  We’re already deep within the courthouse, standing right outside of the very courtroom where Everett’s fate will be sealed for better or for worse. And if I’m not mistaken, it’s the very same courtroom where Everett presided over me the first day we met. But I don’t dare bring this up to him in the event he takes it as a nefarious omen.

  Everett is dressed to kill in a jet-black suit with a baby blue dress shirt underneath that makes his eyes pop. He looks miraculously well-rested and strong as iron with his shoulders back and that stoic look on his face never once flinching.

  Evie and her friends are here. Noah is speaking with Eliza, and Meghan is just a few feet away. Cormack and Cressida have even bothered to show—only God knows why. My mother and Wiley are here as well. And, of course, I’ve brought Lyla Nell.

  Everett said he wanted her here, not as a strategy the way his attorney, Fiona Dagmeyer, proposed, but to simply have her near him. And if she starts to fuss and cry, I’ve already made arrangements for my mother to step out of the room with her.

  “Oh, Everett.” I pull him close and sandwich Lyla Nell between us as she sits in the carrier over my chest. “I need this to be okay. I need you by my side every single day. I need you more than you will ever know. You mean everything to me.” I pull him into a molten hot kiss and hold the scent of his cologne deep inside my lungs.

  “Lemon.” He peppers a trail of kisses to my ear. “Everything is going to happen just the way it’s supposed to. I’m a firm believer in that. The trial will be short. It may not even last a few hours.”

  I nod up at him, doing my best to hold back tears. “And then it goes to the jury.”

  “It does.” He runs his thumb over my cheek. “Having you as a juror in my courtroom a few months back was one of my best memories here. Outside of those visits to my chambers, of course.” A dark smile rides on his lips a second too long.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll pick right up where we left off in two weeks’ time. Dr. Barnette said that after six weeks I was welcome to resume normal activity with my baby maker, and believe me, I’ve got quite the wish list building up.”

  His chest rumbles with a laugh. “Hopefully, I’ll be around to help you with that.”

  Before I can steer him back to a far more positive mindset, Carlotta and Mayor Nash hobble this way, looking injured and sleep-deprived and more than a little sick to their stomachs.

  “You came,” I say a little too loud.

  “She said she couldn’t miss it.” Mayor Nash nods to Everett. “I wouldn’t miss it either. You have our full support, Judge Baxter. I think I’ll hit the restroom before the proceedings begin.” He excuses himself as he takes off.

  “That’s right, Sexy.” Carlotta offers him a slap on the back. “Come heck or high toilet water, there was no stopping me. I put on my big girl panties right over my diaper and here I am.” She leans my way. “No need to worry about me disrupting proceedings with frequent trips to the loo.” She gives her bottom a pat and the sound of crinkling plastic sounds off. “See you kids inside for the dog and pony show. Don’t worry, Sexy. You’ll do great. Remember, if you get nervous, try to envision the audience in their underwear—but then, you’ve probably already seen most of the women in that courtroom in just that. Break a leg, would you?” She takes off and Noah strides up.

  He nods up at Everett. “I’m sorry.” His dimples dip in as he takes a deep breath. “I wish I could take your place. It should have been me,” he says as he takes off for the courtroom.

  Noah is taking the stand today, and I’m afraid he has the power to hurt Everett as much as he does help him, especially if he sticks to the truth.

  Lyla Nell vocalizes after him as her arms and legs flail. She looks up at Everett, and it sounds as if she’s saying her vowels—a, e, i, o, u as loud as she can.

  Everett pushes out a gentle smile as he kisses her on the forehead.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I whisper to him. “There are no words to convey how terrible I feel.”

  “Don’t.” His brows pinch in the middle, and it’s a vexingly sexy look on him. Everett can’t help it. He’s sexy if he does, sexy if he doesn’t. It’s his good-looking cross to bear. “At the end of the day, I accept full responsibility.”

  “Don’t say that in court,” a female voice chirps, and we turn to see his wise counsel, Fiona Dagmeyer, looking sharp as the dagger she is in a navy pantsuit, her dark hair pulled tightly into a bun and a swath of red lipstick. Fiona is as gorgeous as she is dangerous. And her track record in the courtroom is impeccable. “Essex, you look ready and willing to get this over with.” She frowns. “I realize it goes against your nature, but try to look affable to the jury.” She glances at the baby. “Good. I see you took my advice and brought the most potent weapon in our arsenal. Lottie, you’re to sit directly behind your husband. Weep silently, give the jury forlorn looks once every ten minutes, and be sure to latch eyes at least once with all of them before the day is through. This is a one-shot deal. We have one day to save your husband from a prison sentence that could cut him out of your life for years—and will forever end his career. Everything is riding on this. Every look you give, every move you make, can cost your husband everything. Don’t ruin this.” She looks to Everett. “You either. Now get inside.”

  She takes off ahead of us, and soon it’s just Everett, Lyla Nell, and me standing in the hall.

  “Lemon.” Everett bores those blue eyes of his into mine, the exact color of the deep end of the ocean. He warms my back with his hands as his lips curve toward the ceiling. “I love you.”

  “I know.” I press a kiss to his lips and linger. “I love you, too.”

  He takes a deep breath, his gaze still penetrating mine. “Let’s do this.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Sometimes in life we have no choice,” he says. “Things are out of my hands, and I have to accept my fate.”

  I shake my head. “If I don’t like it, I won’t accept it.”

  Lyla Nell reaches her tiny hand his way and he takes it and presses a kiss to it, eliciting a husky gurgle of a laugh from her, still no smile. She certainly is serious. And I suppose these are serious times.

  Everett leads us into the grand courtroom, comprised entirely of dark mahogany and creamy marble.

  Everett walks me to my seat, right between Noah and my mother, before taking his place next to Fiona.

  Noah takes up my hand and gives it a squeeze just as the bailiff asks us to rise for the honorable Judge Macalister.

  We do just that, and Judge Macalister steps in, a tall beefy man with white hair and dark-framed glasses. He offers Everett a solemn nod and a tired smile to go along with it.

  I’m sure they’re friends. What an awkward position for the both of them to be in. What a horrible position I’ve put everyone in this courtroom in.

  The jurors file in, seven women and five men. All of them feast their eyes on Everett, and I can tell by the way a few of them nod that they’re already familiar with this case. It would be hard not to be. We made all of the headlines a few months back.

  The judge greets the jury. “The People of Vermont against Essex Everett Baxter.” He nods to the jury before introducing Fiona and the DA. Opening statements come and go in a blur.

  The district attorney, a man by the name of Dan Mitchel opens, with the fact he has all the evidence the jury will need. He lets them know it’s an open-and-shut case.

  Fiona asks the jury not to form any opinions until they’ve heard all the facts. She tells them that she has confidence they will exonerate the good judge and this entire nightmare will be behind him soon.

  The DA calls the coroner, a man by the name of Seymour Schwartz, to the stand and quickly pulls out of him the state in which he found the morgue.

  “It was a mess.” The coroner is an older gentleman, pudgy cheeks and balding.

  “A few of my workstations had been knocked over, and there was a puddle of condensation found near the opened refrigeration unit. That’s initially what tipped me off that something was afoot. I opened the drawer in which Ms. Canelli was supposed to be in and found it empty.”

  “What did you do then?” the DA asks.

  “I called the sheriff’s department. They came out right away. And that was it.”

  “Did you check the security footage to see what may have happened?”

  “Initially, I thought the camera was off. The security system had become disabled by whoever did this. But as it turns out, a few days later I remembered I had one of those nanny cams running.”

  “And what did you find on that nanny cam, Mr. Schwartz?”

  “I saw a face. It was clear as day. I didn’t know who it was, but I turned it over to the sheriff’s department right away. And a couple of days later, I saw that they arrested both Detective Fox and Judge Baxter. I’ll admit, I know Detective Fox, so I was stymied by what was happening.”

  The DA picks up a remote and points it at a large screen TV set near the jury box, and soon we’re treated to that nanny cam footage. There he is, Everett, with the body of Angel Face Florenza Canelli slung over his back. Everett looks fiercely into the camera as if he were posing.

  “Mr. Schwartz, can you please point out that man in this courtroom today?”

  “I can,” he says. “He’s seated right over there.” He points directly at Everett, and it feels like certain doom.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Mitchell says to the man. “That’s all I need.”

  Fiona gives a rather weak cross-examination that doesn’t seem to do a single thing for Everett’s case. In fact, it almost feels like a formality.

  The DA is up again. He calls Noah to the stand and he’s quickly sworn in.

  “Detective Fox, I understand you were once the stepbrother of the defendant. How did that stint work out for the two of you?”

  Noah shrugs. “As well as it could have gone considering we were two young men with big egos.”

  “Is it true that you are both vying for the hand of the very same woman? And that recently she gave birth to a child in which the paternity has yet to be determined?”

  Noah glances my way. “Yes, that is true.”

  Lyla Nell perks up and looks from me to the stand where Noah sits and she vocalizes something that sounds like why why?

  A titter of laughter circles the room before the DA looks back at Noah.

  “And would you say that Judge Baxter wanted you out of the picture when it comes to this woman, romantically, of course.”

  Noah takes a moment to look over at Everett, then me.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. But I know that Everett wouldn’t have planted a dead body in my yard to pin something like that on me. At least not while he was in a clear state of mind.”

  “Would you classify your feud with your old stepbrother as bitter?”

  Noah’s lips twist. “Yes.”

  “Would you say this feud was volatile at times?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever come to blows with one another over the woman who is now Judge Baxter’s wife?”

  How I hate that our dirty laundry is being aired for all to see—yet again.

  “Yes.” Noah shifts in his seat because he knows this can hurt Everett at this point more than it can help him.

  “About how many times have you and Judge Baxter come to blows over this situation?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Lost count?” the DA asks, amused. “More than a half a dozen times?”

  Noah remains quiet for far too long. “I don’t remember.”

  “It sounds as if Judge Baxter indeed wanted you out of the picture.”

  Fiona jumps to her feet. “Motion to strike. The DA is leading the jury.”

  “Sustained.” He nods to Mr. Mitchel. “Proceed.”

  The DA plays the incriminating footage from the nanny cam once again.

  “Detective Fox, can you identify this man for the jury?”

  Noah hesitates a moment. “I can. It’s Everett.” His voice is low, solemn, and drenched in misery.

  “I’m through with this witness, Your Honor.”

  Fiona gets up and grills Noah without ceasing. She paints a picture of warring brothers and it frightens me because, to be honest, she only seems to be building the DA’s case for him.

  “Detective Fox, while you were living with the Baxter family during the time your father was married to his mother, did you make a move on Everett’s longtime girlfriend, Cormack Featherby?”

  I roll my eyes without meaning to. Cormack and Everett were hardly together for a long time.

  “Yes,” Noah says. “Not only did I make my move, but it was an aggressive one. I’m not proud to say this, but I decided I wanted Cormack for myself and I made sure that happened.”

  “I see. And did the two of you ever make amends?”

  “No. Our parents divorced and we both went off to college. I didn’t see Everett until we met up years later in Honey Hollow.”

  “And was there a woman between the two of you once again?”

  “Yes, Lottie Lemon, the love of my life—and apparently his.”

  A whisper circles around the courtroom.

  Fiona nods. “Detective Fox, have you ever wished that Judge Baxter would exit the relationship he has with Ms. Lemon so that you would be free to make your move once again?”

  Noah offers a mournful look my way. “Yes.”

  “Do you believe Judge Baxter wishes you would stay away from Ms. Lemon once and for all?”

  “I know he does.” Noah doesn’t hesitate with that one.

  “Thank you. The defense is through with this witness, Your Honor.”

  Fiona brings up an entire string of character witnesses. Three different judges and Everett’s poor secretary, too, an older woman by the name of Millicent Meyers. They all paint Everett as a saint. Heck, I even like him a little more after listening to their testimonies, and I liked him plenty before.

  She calls Eliza, Everett’s mother, next and gets her to admit that Everett had a long history of sleepwalking. He partook of those nocturnal strolls long into his teen years, and that’s when Eliza got her mitts on the best psychiatrist money could buy—segue to her next witness, Dr. Goldberg himself.

  Dr. Goldberg is in his eighties, at least, with a small gray wreath of hair, kind eyes, and a trusting smile.

  The good doctor takes the stand and testifies to the fact people with severe tendencies to sleepwalk can carry over those traits into adulthood. Although it is rare, it’s almost always brought about by severe stress.

  “Severe stress.” Fiona nods. “Say, like when your old stepbrother is trying to steal your pregnant wife from underneath you?”

  Dr. Goldberg gives a definitive nod. “Precisely.”

  “Your Honor”—Fiona looks up at Judge Macalister—“the defense rests.”

  The DA doesn’t offer up a cross-examination and rests as well.

  The judge offers the jurors a brief break before we head into closing arguments, and I bolt over and give Everett a firm embrace as Lyla Nell sleeps soundly between us.

  “It’s over,” I whisper.

  “It is.” He dots a kiss to Lyla Nell and me. “The bright spot in all of this is that I still get to go home at the end of the day.”

  A shiver of fear runs through me. That means there could be a day that he doesn’t get to come home.

  Noah slaps Everett on the shoulder. “I hope I didn’t hurt you, man.”

  Everett shakes his head. “You did great. I appreciate it. If we got along any better, I wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on.”

  “So you’re saying I should keep up the good work,” Noah teases. “I was too stubborn to give up anyway.”

  After a few minutes, the jury files back in and the DA starts in on his closing arguments.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this case is self-explanatory. Is Judge Essex Everett Baxter a man of the law? Yes. But that doesn’t mean he’s not human, that he cannot commit a moral failure. He was threatened by the fact his old stepbrother might just take back what he deemed was rightfully his. He wanted Detective Noah Fox out of the picture. What better way to do that than plant a body in Detective Fox’s backyard? There was a mob war afoot. Detective Fox was on that taskforce. Judge Baxter knew that tampering with a mob boss’ niece was like holding a lit stick of dynamite. Detective Fox is the proud owner of a golden retriever, a dog known to be a digger. What better way to unearth the evidence he planted against him? If the sheriff’s department wouldn’t arrest and prosecute Detective Fox, Judge Baxter knew that the mob would rub him out. Either way, Judge Baxter had concocted the perfect plan to get rid of his nemesis and keep his hands clean, or so he thought. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you must find Judge Baxter guilty.”

  Fiona is up next. She expounds on Everett’s impeccable record, on the fact he is an exemplary citizen, and known as a fair judge. She segues into the fact Noah and Everett had a long-standing beef. She starts in on that rehash of Cormack and Noah just as Lyla Nell wakes with a start and screams at the top of her sweet little lungs.

  All eyes are on me, and without thinking, I lift my top, pull my bra up, and start nursing without hesitation as if I were in the comfort of my own home back in Honey Hollow.

  Gasps emit all around me. And I can’t help but notice that a breeze is hitting my flesh in places I’ve never felt a breeze before in public.

  The judge nods my way with a slight frown before looking to Fiona.