Page 27 of Shelter for Shay (Broken Heroes Mended Souls #2)

SHAY – LAKE GEORGE, NEW YORK

MORNING OF OPENING ARGUMENTS

T he kettle hissed softly on the stove, but Shay didn’t move.

She stood by the window, arms folded tight across her chest, watching Rufus Brown lean back in her mother’s old kitchen chair like it was a seat in a poker hall.

He didn’t glance at the tea she offered earlier nor the slice of coffee cake Becca had insisted on dropping off that morning.

His focus was razor-sharp. His tone was just as deliberate.

Moose’s voice filtered through the speakerphone on the table, low and steady.

“All right, Rufus,” he said. “What’d you find?”

Rufus adjusted the brim of his weathered cap. “Well, I talked to him. Bradley Morrison. Nice guy. Not the defensive type. He answered every question without blinking, even though he was surprised as hell to have a private investigator sitting in his office.”

Shay leaned forward, heart thudding. “What did he have to say about knowing my mother? Or possibly being my father?”

“He didn’t deny knowing Margaret, but he said it would be impossible for him to be your dad,” Rufus said.

“Is he willing to take a paternity test?” Moose asked.

“He is,” Rufus said. “He told me he and Margaret had gone to the same high school, though they barely knew each other. However, they also attended the same college and were in a few classes together. He remembered her as quiet and kind. He said they talked a few times and he even flirted with her, but she wasn’t interested in him at all. Never dated. Never slept together.”

Shay’s stomach twisted. “So… he wasn’t lying?”

“If he was, he deserves an Oscar,” Rufus said.

“But I don’t think he was and I’m pretty good at detecting liars.

He didn’t dodge anything. No twitching. No tells.

He looked me straight in the eye when he said he had no idea why Margaret would name him as your father.

It caught him off guard, especially since he’s got a family and a decent reputation. ”

“Did he offer anything useful?” Moose’s voice came through again, calm but pressing.

Rufus scratched his jaw. “Sort of. Back during their freshman year—after she ignored his flirting—Margaret used to sneak around a lot. Said she was dating someone but never told anyone who it was. Thought maybe it was a professor at first. But after Margaret got pregnant and never dropped out, he figured maybe the guy was older. Or married.”

Shay’s pulse jumped. “Did he have a name? A guess?”

Rufus shook his head. “Nope. Said she kept it locked up tight. But what really got his attention was she suddenly had the down payment for a house and bought one up in Lake George. That’s quite the commute, considering she was about to have a baby.

Bradley thought all of it was strange. She constantly complained about how she was barely scraping by.

That she only had her mother’s help and she wasn’t much help at all.

Loans were killing her. And then bam, she’s a homeowner.

But he also mentioned that after she had the baby, she isolated herself.

Focused on her studies and didn’t socialize with anyone. ”

“It sounds like someone gave her the money.” Moose’s voice turned graver. “I need to circle back with Ry and find out what, if anything, she’s been able to uncover.”

Rufus nodded. “Bradley said everyone liked Margaret, but once she had the baby, she simply withdrew. He hasn’t given her much thought over the years. He was shocked and saddened to hear she’d passed.”

Shay gripped the edge of the table. “He could be lying. I saw a strange man at the funeral. One I didn’t recognize. It could’ve been him.”

Rufus gave her a kind but firm look. “Shay, he was genuinely stunned to hear that your mom suggested he could’ve been your dad. He gave me a hair sample if you want to do a paternity test. That’s how certain he is.”

The words stung more than she expected.

“Thanks, Rufus,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your efforts.”

He stood and tipped his cap. “I’ll keep digging. Maybe someone else knew who she was seeing back then.”

As he stepped out the front door, Shay remained at the table, staring at the closed screen. “You still there?” she asked, eyeing the phone.

“Still here,” Moose said.

She exhaled, long and slow. “So Bradley’s not my dad.”

“No,” Moose said gently. “But we’re closer to the truth. And now we know Margaret didn’t just make up the name. But it’s odd, because if ever confronted, it’s obvious he’d challenge the story.”

“But my mom made it pretty clear she didn’t want me digging and I played into it.” Shay rubbed her arms. “And now we’re back to the idea that my dad was probably married. Maybe powerful. Dangerous.”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Moose said. “One step at a time.”

She smiled faintly. “I wish you were here.”

“Me too. But I’m calling again tonight. And I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I have to go in soon. Opening arguments today.”

“You’ve got this, Shay. Just keep your head down. Trust yourself. And if he looks at you again—don’t flinch.” Moose’s voice came through, warm and steady.

“I didn’t flinch last time.”

“I know,” he said. “But if I could, I’d be sitting in the front row, daring him to try.”

Her heart swelled. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” he murmured. “And I love you right back.”

Shay – Courthouse, Opening Arguments

The courtroom was stiflingly quiet.

Not in volume, but in pressure—thick and heavy, like a storm pressing against the walls. Shay sat in the jury box with her spine straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, trying to look like she belonged. Like she wasn’t second-guessing every breath she took.

Blake Edmonds sat just across the room, flanked by his defense team. A tailored navy suit hugged his frame, and his expression was unreadable.

Still, she felt his gaze.

Not occasionally.

Constantly.

It wasn’t arrogance, not exactly. It wasn’t flirtation either. It was something colder. Calculated. Like he was trying to place her in the same way she’d been trying to place him.

The DA’s voice cut into her thoughts.

Jacob Donovan moved with quiet confidence, laying out the prosecution’s theory of the case.

The victim, Adam Lawrence, had been Blake Edmonds’ assistant—more than that, a fixer of sorts who kept things quiet.

A man who, according to the DA, had grown a conscience and was threatening to go public with something Blake wanted buried.

A motive.

The murder had taken place in the stairwell of a parking garage outside the village of Lake George. No witnesses. The murder weapon was a metal award Blake Edmonds had received a few years ago. Security footage showed the two men entering the stairwell together. Only one emerged.

Shay’s gaze drifted toward Blake again.

He looked… bored.

No, not bored. Patient. Like someone waiting for a game to unfold. And still, his gaze would land on her and linger—just long enough for her stomach to tighten and her hands to tremble faintly in her lap.

Patrick Dunn, the defense attorney, rose for his turn. He painted Adam Lawarence as a disgruntled employee with a gambling addiction. Claimed the state had no real evidence. Circumstantial. Convenient. And a clear attempt to convict a man based on reputation and wealth alone.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Patrick said, sweeping his hand across the jury box, “this trial isn’t about the man you think you see on the news. This is about facts. And I promise, when you see them in the light of day, you’ll find yourself with only one choice—acquittal.”

Shay barely heard the judge dismiss the jury for lunch.

She stood slowly, steadying her breath as she filed out with the others into the hallway. The moment her heels hit tile, she pulled out her phone and fired off a quick message to Moose.

Shay: Opening arguments are done. It’s… weird. I’ll tell you more later. Miss you.

No response.

She stared at the screen a little longer than necessary before sliding it into her coat pocket. Of course he couldn’t answer. Moose was in the middle of war games. At least, that’s what he called it. Training exercises meant to make him and his team better at their jobs.

She took that as making it so hopefully they didn’t die on their next deployment.

“Hey, Shay.”

Shay turned to see Andy Harmon leaning against the hallway wall near the water fountain, arms crossed. He was in uniform, his expression as unreadable as ever. Comforting in its familiarity.

“Hi, Andy,” she said.

“How’s it going?”

She shrugged. “Strange. A little overwhelming. I thought jury duty would be boring. This is… not that.”

Andy gave a low chuckle but kept his distance, his stance guarded. “Can’t talk about it. You know that.”

“I do.” She nodded. “I’m not trying to break any rules. Just… nice to see a familiar face.”

“You holding up okay?”

“I think so,” she said. “I mean, you sit in a courtroom long enough and the walls start closing in a little. And the defendant keeps staring at me like I’m a crossword puzzle he can’t quite solve.”

Andy’s smile faded. “Don’t read into that too much. Guys like Edmonds—high ego, high profile—they like control. Watching people’s reactions is part of that. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

She nodded, trying to absorb the advice, but it didn’t quiet the nagging discomfort curling in her belly.

“If you need anything,” Andy said, “outside the courtroom, I mean—just holler. You know where to find me.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

He gave her a nod and walked away, leaving Shay in the middle of the courthouse hallway, surrounded by murmuring jurors and echoing footsteps, with one truth ringing louder than all the rest.

She’d seen Blake Edmonds before.

She just didn’t know when.

Or why he seemed so interested in her.