Page 39

MERIT

I throw up a little in my mouth.

“Merit, get away from the window.” Ridge’s voice is firm yet sympathetic.

I take one last look at the paparazzi and media vans lining our street, just beyond the huge pecan trees. They’re busy taking video and photographs of the yard signs scattered across the yard. Apparently, some brazen people decided to break the public right of way and trespass onto our property last night. Every sign has a vile message.

Rapist.

Predator.

Liar.

Future Prison Bitch.

Money Can’t Buy Everything.

Justice for Heidi.

Her name wasn’t even supposed to be released to the press, but somehow it was. Some of the text messages too. I mean, we haven’t even seen all the messages. How can the tabloids have them? And not only have them, but print them?

Before I close the blinds, I see a familiar face. I can’t make out her features, but I know it’s her...Chloe. She texted me last Sunday night after the arrest was made public. I don’t even know how she got my number. I remember her words.

Keep your head low and always say no comment. Even when I ask you. Scream it in my face if you have to. Don’t fall for the bait.

Ridge wraps an arm around me and leads me back into the living room. “C’mon. I’ve got the security worked out.”

Holt’s where he’s been for days—sitting on the couch, blankly staring out the glass doors, watching the waterfall splash into the serene swimming pool. He made it home that Tuesday night after making bail. His homecoming was bittersweet. He wanted to be happy, but a stoic depression bubbled under the surface, begging to drown his strong and happy personality. Despite Mom being in town, I had been sleeping in Holt’s bed while he slept in the jail cell. She didn’t say anything about it, nor did she say anything when I trudged up the stairs that night, telling him I would see him upstairs.

But I didn’t see him upstairs.

He never came to bed.

He’s taken to sleeping on the couch.

On Thursday, he sent me home with Mom for Christmas. I was miserable without him. We barely even talked. His cell phone is being held as evidence, and with the Christmas holiday, the local store was sold out of a replacement. He ordered two new phones, but they hadn’t come in yet; so, the times we did talk, it was via the cell phone of whomever was with him at the time. As soon as the sun came up the day after Christmas, I headed back.

I was shocked to see him. It looked like he had aged ten years in those few days.

He’s lost. He’s a shadow. He’s punishing himself for something he didn’t do. On top of that, he’s scared that we don’t believe him. I can see it. His eyes flicker around to each of us when he thinks we aren’t paying attention. He’s just waiting for one of us to call him a liar.

Despite his melancholy, the house has been a bustle of somber activity. No one wants to leave him alone. Ridge and Cullen have been taking turns staying in one of the guest rooms, depending on Ridge’s schedule at the firehouse. Ray and Teresa are also staying here most nights. After I came back from my parents’ house, I started sleeping back in my bed in the Children’s Wing, giving him space in his own bed, hoping he could get some rest. But that didn’t happen. He still slept on the couch. If that’s what you can even call it—tossing and turning and shouting out in nightmares.

Ridge sits in front of him on the coffee table. “Holt.” When he doesn’t look over, Ridge waves some papers in front of his face, trying to get his attention. “Holt.”

Blinking, he looks at us. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got it all lined up.”

Holt nods.

“So right now, some city officers are coming by every two hours. As we can see, that’s not enough protection. Crutch has lined up some deputies and city officers whom he trusts to patrol twenty-four hours a day during their off time until the security firm can start. I talked to the owner, and he hopes a team can be in place Tuesday, after New Year’s. In the meantime, their installation people will be here tomorrow to start on the fence, the security gates, and the cameras.”

Holt looks down at the ankle monitor on his leg. “So, I’m making my house my prison.”

Ridge shakes his head. “They’re some crazy people out there. It’s not safe. If they can get into the yard, they can get into the house. Is that what you want?”

Holt looks over at me. His vibrant blue eyes are void of the spark I love, the dancing waves are gone. He swallows, finally answering Ridge. “You know it’s not. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect her.”

His declaration makes my lip quiver. I’m trying to be strong for him, but it’s not easy. I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a huge cliff about to fall into a lake of quicksand. The store’s been closed. When Kyra went to put up a sign last Monday, she said paparazzi were already there. She also had to shut down the social media pages because people were posting horrible comments.

I believe Holt. Really, I do. There’s nothing in my soul that says he did this. Nothing in my heart.

I don’t know why Heidi is doing this. I don’t know why she is lying. She seemed like a good kid. I thought she was my friend.

And I have no idea how the texts were done. They say they came from Holt’s phone. I don’t know how… there has to be an answer, an explanation.

“Do you have the other stuff?” he asks.

Shuffling through the papers, Ridge holds up a couple of pages. He nods, telling Ridge to give them to me. Ridge slides them in front of me and points with an ink pen. “Sign here and here.”

My brow furrows. “What am I signing?”

Holt leans back and drags his hands through his hair. Normally, Holt’s every action is done with confidence, sending tingles through my body. Now, he just looks exhausted. “I’m adding you to my main checking account.”

“Wh…What?” I fumble over my words. “Why?”

He looks out the window again. “I can barely string a sentence together, let alone take care of the house. I figured you could help me pay the bills when they come in.”

I study his face. Every line, every curve. The hard set of his jaw. He’s lying. I slam the ink pen down. “Bullshit.”

He sighs. “Just sign it, Mer.”

“No. Why on earth would you add me to your bank account? I don’t want your money. I just want you.”

He shoots up from the couch, anger pulsing in his temples. “You want me?! You don’t think I want that too?! I may be going to fucking prison, Merit. I need to know you’re taken care of. This is your home now. I need to know that you’re safe. I don’t wanna sit behind bars worrying about you counting every damn penny.”

His outburst has drawn some attention. Marcum and Teresa lean out the office door, watching us. I lift my eyebrows, hoping to get some support from his mom, but she just smiles softly.

“Please,” Holt pleads. His voice is strained and cracked.

What can I do? Biting the side of my lip, I nod, and sign my name on the dotted line.

For a second, I think he’s going to laugh. I’m not sure if I’ve ever let him win a battle this easy. Instead of laughing, he walks away. “The bank will send over your checks and debit card this afternoon. I’m going to take a shower.”

***

When I walk into the kitchen, I catch Jeff and Cullen huddled in conversation. Joining them at the large island, I grab a plate to make a sandwich with the assortment of meats and cheeses Jeff has laid out.

“They just canceled? I mean, the wedding is Sunday. On New Year’s Eve. They’ll never find another caterer,” Cullen says.

Jeff grabs a marbled piece of roast beef and layers it on my bread. Apparently, I am picking out the wrong pieces. Turning back to Cullen, he shrugs. “I know. It was a huge order. A great way to close out the year. Fortunately, the vendors weren’t delivering the food until tomorrow. Most of them have agreed to credit us.”

“Did they say why? Any explanation?”

Jeff shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

“Dad, what is it?”

Jeff rubs his jaw, debating before finally giving in. “They know that we’re friends with Holt. They’re a prominent family and don’t want to give the illusion,” he says with air quotes, “of supporting an accused sexual predator.”

Cullen curses underneath his breath.

All of a sudden, it feels like the air is sucked out of the room. It’s filled with an unspoken tension, almost tangible around us. Looking up, we see Holt standing in the corner of the huge kitchen.

Cullen slides back from the barstool. “Holt. It’s no—”

Holt immediately cuts him off. “Stop. Can’t you see, Cullen? It’s just the beginning. This isn’t just going to ruin my life; it’s going to ruin everyone’s. Y’all need to distance yourself from me. Run as far away as you can.”

Cullen shakes his head, growling. “We’re fighting this with you. We’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m fucking toxic!” Holt barks back.

“Enough.” Ella steps in the room, commanding attention. Defiantly lifting her head in the air, she passes an order. “We’re ready. Come to the dining table. Nate’s finished.”

Grabbing a baseball cap from the corner bar, Holt places it on his head, covering his damp waves. Drops of water dot the shoulders of his green T-shirt. Grumbling, he follows behind her. “He shouldn’t even be here.”

That’s just another way Holt’s been punishing himself. He refuses to see any of the kids. Raylee said he wouldn’t even accept Anna’s phone call on Christmas Day. The only exceptions are Nate, because Marcum showed up with him today, and Baby Harlan—affectionately called Hardy—because Ella is still breastfeeding.

Ella checks the baby monitor hooked to her waistband. Hardy is sleeping in a new crib in the kids’ room upstairs. “You know he’s a tech wizard,” she says, talking about Nate. “He’s already been a valuable resource. Be appreciative.”

We all gather around the huge dining table, tucked in the corner of the living room. Despite his mood, Holt holds out a chair, nodding for me to sit next to him. When his hand brushes against my side, he quickly whispers an apology. “Oh, sorry.”

I hate it. And it makes my fragile heart break a little more.

Marcum nods, giving Nate the floor. He slides one of the new cell phones in front of Holt. “So, this is the duplicate phone. It’s set up just like your old one. Same phone number, same email address, same apps. I downloaded everything from the cloud. If someone calls or texts your old number, it will show on this. But keep in mind, the police will see it too. They have your old phone and your cloud information. In addition, since it’s a ghost clone, you won’t actually be able to answer any phone calls that come in. You’ll just see them in the call log history.” He slides the other new phone over. “This is the new phone. It has your new phone number and your new email address. I established a new cloud backup with a new password. I also changed the usernames and passwords on all your apps—bank accounts, credit cards, even your music app. I have everything written down here.” He hands Holt a piece of paper.

Ray leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “The texts?”

Marcum pats Nate on the shoulder. “When Nate downloaded the old cloud information, all of the alleged correspondence downloaded.” He nods at one of the cell phones. “It’s on there. We also sent a secure file to the new lawyer with all of the messages.”

“And they’ll be here when?” Ray asks.

Ella answers, “January 10 th . That’ll give them time to get moved and set up.”

After firing his lawyer through the union, Holt asked Ella for a referral. In her consulting business, she works with lawyers all over Alabama and the surrounding states. Her recommendation was a bulldog criminal attorney out of Mobile. He’s actually the attorney who first asked for her assistance as a consultant. He’s persistent. And expensive. He’s bringing one junior attorney and three paralegals with him. Holt’s having to rent two houses for them—indefinitely. They plan on living here during the week and going back home on the weekends.

Ridge hits his knuckles against a massive stack of papers. “And this?”

Ella takes a deep breath. “It’s the text messages and phone logs.”

Holt sits up straight. “There are that many messages?”

Marcum clears his throat. “We have several copies; but yes, there are a lot of messages.” He gives Ella a knowing look.

She picks up where he left off. “We have multiple copies because in our opinion, we should all read them.”

Holt’s face immediately pales. “What? Even I don’t wanna read them.”

“You don’t really have a choice, Holt. The more eyes we have on these, the better. No one knows you better than us. We can help spot inconsistencies, even in the language and style. I think it’s the best idea.”

Moaning, Holt knocks his hat up and drags his hands down his face. After several seconds, when he doesn’t say anything, Ray urges him to make a decision. “Son?”

Tugging his hat back down, he sighs, taking the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Yeah. Sure.”

Quietly, Nate passes out the clipped packages to each of us. Holt doesn’t like that. “You saw these? You read them, Nate?”

Nate clicks his tongue. “Does it matter? They’re not real.”

Just like the rest of us, Nate has unwavering faith in Holt.

When the packet is placed in front of me, I stare at it. What I really want to do is tear it into shreds and line a bird cage with it. It’s vile and disgusting and filled with lies. I’m not sure how. But it is.

Holt leans in, getting closer to me than he’s gotten in the past several days. “You don’t have to do this, you know?”

What a stupid question.

“Of course, I do. I’ll do anything to help you. You know that.” I purse my lips, biting back tears. “I love you, Holt.”