A man, small and bird-boned, dwarfed by his gray suit, approached the cell. He had unruly curly hair that he’d attempted to control with heavy product. If not for the silver threads running through his coif, he would have looked about twenty-five. Nat judged him to be in his early forties.

“Natalie Murphy?”

Nat swiped at her tears, hurried toward him. “That’s me.”

“My name is Matthew Hawley. Your father hired me to represent you.”

Her heart swelled. Her dad, who’d abandoned her as a little girl, had come through for her now. A lump of gratitude, perhaps even love, clogged her throat.

“Your father arrived this morning. He’s waiting in the courtroom. Your mother is on her way. Your parents believe in you and support you.”

Nat had thought she was completely alone. She wasn’t. She swiped at a fresh batch of tears.

“You’re about to be arraigned for the second-degree murder of Gabriel Turnmill,” Matthew Hawley said, unfazed by her emotions. “The DA’s case is circumstantial, but from what I can see, the evidence is damaging.”

A pain twisted Nat’s intestines, and she felt she might throw up. This couldn’t be happening. It all felt so surreal. But her whole life, since she’d started seeing Gabe, since he’d abruptly ended it, had felt surreal. This was part of her new, fucked-up reality.

Her lawyer kept talking. “When we go before the judge today, we’ll plead not guilty. When I’ve had time to examine the evidence and do some investigation, we can discuss a defense. If the DA offers a plea, it would be wise to consider it.”

“I didn’t do it,” Nat said, hands gripping the bars of her cell. “I can’t remember the night, but I couldn’t kill someone. Especially not Gabe.”

But if she could have killed anyone, it would have been Gabe. She’d hated him that much.

A vein twitched in her lawyer’s temple. “Let’s focus on getting you bail. You’ll be called up soon.”

Through the bars, Nat watched the diminutive man hurry away.

49

The Arraignment

Perhaps an hour after Matthew Hawley left her, a bailiff led Nat into court. The room had high ceilings and dark wood wainscoting; an intimidating space filled with intimidating people. Not all of them were there for her. The press occupied several seats, alert for a sensational case worthy of their attention. There were numerous lawyers in suits, waiting for clients. The seating area was filled with wives and mothers, husbands and fathers—of the victims and the accused. All were waiting for the defendants to be brought before the judge. Many of the women, and a few of the men, were crying.

Scanning the crowd, Nat found her dad. He had not changed much during their years of estrangement; a little heavier, the lines around his mouth more pronounced. Their eyes met, and her own fear and pain reflected back at her. She’d been angry with him for so long, had blamed him for so many of her issues. But now she saw him for what he was: a troubled man, fighting his own demons, trying to do right by his child.