“Deputy Taylor, can you please tell us what you saw when you arrived at the Wheeler property on April seventeenth?”

Grayson keeps his eyes on Mr. Henderson, his gaze never straying once to me. “Olivia Bradshaw was there as the caller had stated she would be,” he replies.

“And can you describe her condition when you found her?”

“She was tied to a tree, nude, beaten, and unconscious.” Pain washes over Grayson’s face, his voice cold and hard. The sound of it chilling me to the bone.

Tears burn the back of my eyes, my heart breaking as I cling to every dreadful word. I can only imagine how awful it must have been for him to see me the way he did, but watching and listening to him recount it all is almost too much to bear.

It has clearly affected him far more than he let on.

Mr. Henderson turns to the jury. “She’d been tied to a tree, raped, beaten, and left for dead.”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Mr. Jones stands. “Mr. Henderson is making assumptions and putting words into the witness’s mouth. He never said anything about rape, or even being left for dead.”

“Your Honor, the charges against Mr. West are rape and attempted murder. The medical reports have already shown that she was raped. I’m not putting words into anyone’s mouth. This is what happened to Miss Bradshaw. These are facts.”

“Overruled, but move on now, Mr. Henderson. As you said, we know what happened to Miss Bradshaw.”

Mr. Henderson nods. “Just one more question, Deputy. Evidence was found at the scene of the crime, could you tell us what that was?”

Grayson nods. “A gold chain was recovered along with the remainder of Miss Bradshaw’s dress. It had her blood on it and the DNA of the defendant, Reginald West.”

“Thank you. No further questions, Your Honor.” Mr. Henderson takes his seat, looking pleased. By the jury’s pained expressions it’s clear he achieved what he set out to do. I can see it staring back at me on every single face.

Sympathy.

It all makes me sick to my stomach, even though I do understand why he needed to do it.

“Your witness, Mr. Jones,” Judge Carter states.

My heart sinks as Mr. Jones stands, taking his time to button his suit jacket before approaching Grayson. I’m careful not to look past him, knowing I won’t be able to stomach the sight of the man who has caused me so much pain and sadness.

Not today.

Not when I’m already a ball of nerves and worried sick about Grayson.

“Deputy Taylor, you have a personal relationship with the alleged victim, is that correct?”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Mr. Henderson stands. “Miss Bradshaw is not an alleged victim. She is a victim. It is disrespectful for Mr. Jones to say otherwise.”

The judge agrees. “Sustained.”

Mr. Jones nods. “I apologize. Let me rephrase the question. You have a personal relationship with the victim, is that correct?”

“Yes, I do.”

“A romantic relationship?”

“Yes.”

“Were you romantically involved with her during the arrest of my client?”

Mr. Henderson stands once again. “Objection, Your Honor. This is completely irrelevant to the case,” he bites out, his frustration mounting.

“I promise, Your Honor, I’m going somewhere with this.”

The judge considers it for a long moment before finally allowing him to resume. “You better have something relevant here, Mr. Jones.”

“I do.”

“Overruled.”

Mr. Henderson takes his seat, clearly unhappy with the decision. He leans over to whisper something to Clint, and my anxiety skyrockets, wondering where exactly Mr. Jones is going with this.

“Go ahead and answer, Deputy. Taylor,” the judge pushes.

“Not at the time, no. We were just friends.”

“Really?”

Grayson’s eyes narrow. “Yes. Really.”

Mr. Jones paces back and forth in front of Grayson before finally taking a relaxed stance near the jury. “I’m surprised you were allowed to even be on the scene for the arrest when you were so personally involved.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? It was my case.”

“Because it’s a conflict of interest. Being just friends with Miss Bradshaw, is that why you brutally beat my client when—”

Mr. Henderson flies out of his chair. “Objection, Your Honor. The witness is not on trial here. He has no charges against him for what Mr. Jones is accusing him of.”

“Your Honor, an investigation is pending on this deputy for assaulting my client. He should have never been on that scene in the first place. This goes to show the unfairness and prejudice my client has had to deal with, and—”

“Sustained,” Judge Carter bellows angrily. “You’re out of line, Mr. Jones. This trial is about the crime against Miss Bradshaw, not your client. Pull that again and you will be held in contempt.”

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Mr. Jones says, sitting down, looking rather proud of himself.

My blood burns with rage.

Mr. Henderson addresses the judge. “If I may, Your Honor, I do have one more question for my witness.”

“Make it quick, Counselor.”

Mr. Henderson steps out from around the table. “Deputy Taylor, the day of the arrest Mr. West made a comment to you about Miss Bradshaw, would you mind repeating what he said to the jury?”

I watch Grayson tense, a dangerous rage taking over his expression just before Mr. Jones stands. “Objection, Your Honor. You just ruled my client’s arrest was irrelevant.”

“Your Honor, I promise you this has everything to do with what happened to Miss Bradshaw. After Mr. Jones’s line of questioning I feel it is imperative for the jury to hear this.”

He nods. “Overruled.”

“Your Honor,” Mr. Jones injects again. “This is all hearsay. It’s not fair for my client.”

“I said overruled, Counselor. Now take your seat.”

Mr. Jones sits, the smug look he wore moments ago is long gone.

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Mr. Henderson looks back at Grayson whose body is tense with fury. “Please, Deputy Taylor, tell the jury what Mr. West said to you that day.”

For the first time since we entered the courtroom, Grayson’s eyes find mine, a silent request weighing heavy in his gaze. Shaking my head, I refuse to leave. I want to be here for him.

For myself.

He turns away, disappointed and angry like I knew he would be. I bite my lip, trying to keep my emotions in check.

“Deputy Taylor?” The judge urges when he remains silent.

Grayson swallows thickly. “When I told him what he was being arrested for, he admitted what he did to Olivia,” he replies vaguely.

“Please repeat exactly what he said to you.”

His jaw locks so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t snap, and it takes him a moment to answer. “He said, ‘I’ve never had a bitch scream for me the way she did. She was so fucking tight; I can still feel her.’”

A ripple of gasps echo throughout the courtroom. My eyes fall closed, his words slicing through me like a serrated knife. Carol chokes back a sob, and Pap bristles next to me. Gathering my composure, I open my eyes and find Grayson glaring forward, furious and completely defeated.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Mr. Henderson says quietly. He takes his seat and glances over his shoulder at me, regret reflecting deep in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I had to.”

I nod in understanding, knowing he didn’t have a choice after what Everett Jones did.

“Thank you, Deputy Taylor, you are dismissed,” the judge says.

Grayson stands, his body wound tight. He doesn’t even look in our direction as he storms out, the doors slamming with resounding finality behind him.

I flinch at his loud departure then get up to follow him, ignoring the many sets of eyes upon me.

Exiting into the hall, I find him pacing like a caged animal, his hand gripping his hair in frustration.

“Grayson.” His name falls on a choked whisper.

His head snaps up. “Why?” he grinds out. “Why didn’t you leave? Why the fuck did you stay?”