“But what if it doesn’t clear?” I say, finally brave enough to voice my gravest concern. “What if he goes to jail for something he didn’t do?”
“The prosecution has the burden of proof. He didn’t do what that girl says he did, so there’s no hard evidence—DNA or whatnot. I’m convinced they’ll ultimately have to let him go.” Her gaze deepens and I see even more of Marcus in her. “And when they do, he’s going to come looking for you. I know my brother and I’ve never seen him so hopelessly in love.”
My heart shatters into a million pieces. “You think?”
She smiles. “I know.” She picks up her phone. “Do you want me to call him? I know he’s going over the bend worrying about you.”
God, yes. I need so badly to talk to him—to hear his voice and know he’s okay. But I don’t dare right now. Because what I know beyond a doubt is that I couldn’t resist anything he asked for. If he begged me to come to him, I would. And I’m not going to be the card that brings the house down.
I shake my head. “Not until it’s over.”
She takes a deep breath. “Fine, but at least take my number. I want you to call me for updates, or if you just need to talk.”
“Okay,” I say, for some reason feeling a huge sense of relief that I have a connection back to Marcus, even if I can’t really use it.
She looks at me expectantly, and when I realize she’s waiting for me to type her number into my phone, I grimace. “I don’t have a phone. Can you write it down for me?”
She smiles. “Of course.”
She gets up and finds her grocery receipt, then riffles through a drawer for something to write with. She comes out with a sharpie and jots her number down, then hands me the receipt.
“Thanks,” I say, looking at the paper.
“My man went through this without any support. Marcus needs to know he has you in his corner, Addie. I could get him a note for you, or even just pass a message along.”
When I glance up at her, she’s giving me a look that tells me how important she thinks it is. “Tell him…” I take a deep breath as I think this through. What if he does something stupid if he knows I was here? I shake my head, setting my resolve. “Not yet. Please don’t tell him you saw me. I just…I’m afraid he’ll come here looking for me, or…”
Her eyes narrow and I’m suddenly afraid I’ve made a huge mistake coming here. She nods at the paper. “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t say anything as long as you promise to check in with me every week. I need to know you’re okay.”
I take a deep breath and nod. “Okay.”
She pulls me into a long hug. “Don’t give up on him, Addie. He loves you.”
“Never,” I say, swallowing tears. “I can’t. He’s all I have.”
Chapter 27
Marcus
Addie’s gone. I waited for a week to hear from her, and when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I went to her school to find her. Waited at the front door before school and the back door after. Finally I asked around and found someone who told me she’d moved.
Christmas came and went. Blaire didn’t come home, so I hardly noticed. I feel like my whole life is on hold waiting for this stupid trial, but I honestly don’t care anymore.
My nerves are so shot that a knock on the apartment door makes me jump. Bran’s at work and I’ve been living the hermit’s life, trying to stay out of the public eye.
When I crack the door open, Detective Diaz is standing on my stoop.
“Can I come in?” she asks.
“That depends,” I say, unable to keep the bite out of my voice. “Do you come bearing food, because I don’t get out much lest I look at a sixteen-year-old and get more bogus charges thrown at me.”
“I know this has been an ordeal, and though I don’t come bearing food, you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
I step back and open the door wider.
She moves past me. “Mind if I sit?”
“You seem to do what you want no matter what I say, so I doubt I can stop you,” I say, closing the door and following her.
She sits on one end of the couch and I take the other. “We’ve withdrawn the charges, Marcus.”
All the blood drains from my head and I see stars. “What?”
“There were enough inconsistencies between Corinne Pratt’s and Deanna Robinson’s stories that I’ve decided her account isn’t credible enough pursue. I took my concerns to the DA and he agreed that, because our case was all circumstantial, without any physical evidence to support their claims, he wouldn’t be able to get the conviction. You’ll hear from your public defender soon with the good news, I’m sure, but I wanted to tell you myself.”
I let out the breath I was holding in concentration, trying to understand exactly what she’s saying. “So, Corinne and Deanna’s stories don’t match, so you have to let me go?”
She nods. “That’s basically it in a nutshell.”
I bark out a laugh at the irony. Deanna was so hell bent on hurting me that she saved me instead.