Page 59 of True North
The message was from Adeola; he had entered her number into his contacts asGary’s Lawyer. He would need to update that.Mr. Howlett, I’d like to meet with you in the morning. Please call me when you wake up, as I know it’s been a late night. Misha asked me to tell you that he’s fine.
JT frowned at his phone. He didn’t know how to interpret any of that. ‘Fine’—what did that mean? Misha wasn’t fine; he was in jail. He had murdered someone, possibly.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Thank you, he replied to Adeola, then turned off the TV and hauled himself upstairs to his bed. This time he fell asleep at once.
* * *
Adeola’s practice was downtown, just around the corner from the courthouse in a generic Brutalist office building. JT took the stairs to the second floor and cooled his heels in the waiting room for only a couple of minutes before Adeola came to lead him down the hall to her office.
She was wearing a different suit this morning, maroon instead of gray, and looked so alert and freshly made up that JT could hardly believe she’d been at the police station until the small hours of the morning. She offered him a cup of coffee, which he accepted, and seated him in one of the leather armchairs in her office. She sat in another.
“I spoke with Misha at some length last night,” she said without preamble. “From what he told me, he did kill the man, but it was self-defense.”
JT exhaled slowly. Okay. That was an acceptable reason to kill someone, right? He could feel okay about this. Misha wasn’t a bad guy. “What happened?”
She hesitated. “He asked me not to give you any specifics. He said he’d rather tell you himself. Although you’re paying my fees, he’s technically my client, and my duty of confidentiality—”
“Sure, I understand. I’ll wait for him to tell me,” JT said, although now he was suspicious all over again, because what had Misha done that he wanted to manage JT’s reaction? “So if it was self-defense, you can get him released, right?”
She pursed her mouth. “Unfortunately, there was a witness. Not just a passer-by. Someone who was there with Misha when it happened. I’ll have to see what the prosecutor says at the bail hearing, but it’s clear this person implicated Misha in some way.”
“So it’s who the jury believes more,” JT said.
Adeola shook her head. “Not necessarily. But I can’t say much until I see the police report and the witness statement. We’ll start pulling documents this morning.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I wanted to talk to you because Misha will appear in court in a few days to argue for his release pending trial. If you’re willing, it would be helpful for you to be present.”
It was JT’s turn to hesitate. Gary had given him permission, but the team’s front office would absolutely ream him if the press caught wind of literally any part of this situation, even the aspects that now seemed comparatively innocuous, like Misha living with him. He would do just about anything to have Misha sleeping beside him again, though.
“All right. I should wear a suit, eh?”
Adeola smiled wryly. “The nicest suit you have. You may not need to say anything, but be prepared to tell the judge about Misha’s exceptional character.”
“Does the judge follow hockey?”
“Hopefully. I don’t know yet who will be assigned to the case. If they don’t, I’ll feed you a few canned statements to make it clear you’re important without irritating the judge.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry, I need to get back to the station. Misha’s bail hearing is this morning.”
“Is that something I should come along for?”
“No need, it’s only a formality. He can’t be released at this stage because of the murder charge.” She rose to her feet. “I’ll see what I can do to arrange a visit for you. He asked me at least ten times when he would be able to see you.”
JT’s heart squeezed painfully at the thought of Misha asking for him. He had been trying not to imagine Misha in some jail cell, lonely and frightened. “Thank you. A visit would be great.” He stood as well and offered his hand to shake.
Adeola had a firm grip. She held his gaze as she said, “I’ll keep you updated. We’ll do everything we can to have Misha released.”
Outside, JT sat in his truck for a few minutes, watching the Saturday morning traffic pass by on Elgin Street. Then he turned on the engine and drove to the rink to meet Alex and Curtis like it was any other day.
* * *
Misha spotted JT as soon as he entered the courtroom and then couldn’t look anywhere else. JT wore a navy suit and a speckled blue and white tie and his curls had been tidily arranged into place. He looked unbearably handsome and somber and Misha wanted to die of shame and longing in his orange jumpsuit. JT wouldn’t want anything further to do with him after this was all over, and Misha would spend the rest of his life thinking of him as he was in this moment, perfect and adored and utterly out of Misha’s reach.
After the past three cold, lonely days in jail, he knew he would have a lot of time to think.
“All rise,” the bailiff said as the judge came into the courtroom.
Misha didn’t have to say or do much. The wood-paneled room was just like the ones he saw on TV and didn’t hold anything of interest. He studied the coat of arms on the wall for a minute but mostly watched JT from the corner of his eye, trying to be circumspect. The prosecutor outlined Misha’s wrongdoings as described by the sole eyewitness, not named, but Misha knew it was Kirill. Misha didn’t blame him; he had probably been terrified, and Misha had, after all, abandoned him to single-handedly deal with the aftermath.
Adeola spoke with the judge as Misha kept his head down and tried to look contrite. He felt very contrite; he felt very small and numb, bracing himself for whatever was going to come next.