Second Chances: The Seahaven Series - Book One (19 page)

The minute he says it I feel like a giant weight comes off my chest. I thought I was handling it fine, but now that I know Matt will be there I feel a thousand times better. I go to him and hug him.

“Thank you,” I say. He hugs me back and kisses me. Buster yawns as he settles onto his puppy pillow. Matt checks his watch and says, “We'd better go.”

Chapter Thirty

Matt and I get to the courthouse and it's a whole different world from what I'm used to. It's several towns over, this one much bigger, with a bigger courthouse and bigger criminals. These men are rough looking. I can't even think about Cesar being locked up with them.

I spot my brother's lawyer, Mr. Coughlin. He waves us over.

“Ellie,” he says, “Cesar's up next. Unfortunately this judge is very by the book. We'll do our best, but prepare yourselves.”

“Prepare ourselves?” I say. “He didn't do it. He's not going to jail.”

Mr. Coughlin sighs a little, like he's tired, like he can't believe I'm so naïve, like it won't matter what he says to the judge anyway.

“It's not that simple. It's more about what the facts say, what the evidence points to.”

This man better not be giving up on my brother before we even get started. I try again.

“But he's not a murderer. And maybe all the sisters of accused murders say this, but he really didn't do this. He had a drug problem, he hung out with the wrong crowd, that's it. If he goes to jail it will kill him.”

Matt is with me the whole time, holding my shoulders, supporting me. It's giving me so much strength that I have no idea what I'd do if he wasn't next to me.

“Look,” says Mr. Coughlin, “certain cases tend to go a certain way. It's just how things are. I'll do what I can, but—”

Matt steps forward and leans down into Coughlin's face. He rarely uses his size to intimidate people, but when he does it's effective.

“Sounds a little like you're giving up, mate. Do we need another lawyer?”

Coughlin clears his throat. Matt is substantially physically bigger than he is, so I'm sure he's feeling uneasy, if not outright scared.

“I have all the facts, and I'll present them to the judge. We'll hope he's in a good mood today.” Coughlin opens the door for us and motions us in. “Please sit in that row there, behind your brother.”

We file into the courtroom and sit several rows behind the defendants' table. I see my brother and try to catch his eye. He's pale, and it's clear he's lost a few pounds by the way his orange jumpsuit is hanging on him. He looks beaten down and defeated. And now after almost losing him a week ago it's a real possibility that I might lose him again.

He looks up and sees me and smiles half-heartedly. He raises his hand in a wave but his wrists are shackled together.

I smile at him and wave back, doing my best to look positive. But when he turns back around I drop my head and look at my hands to try to keep from crying. I take a deep breath. Matt squeezes my shoulder and rubs my neck.

“It will be okay,” he says.

The judge reads his notes. “Next defendant, Cesar Bacerra, on charges of first degree murder in the death of Esteban Juarez, Jr. How do you plead?”

I realize I'm holding my breath and wringing my hands. Cesar's lawyer clears his throat and addresses the judge.

“Mr. Bacerra pleads not guilty, your honor.”

I look around the courtroom as the judge reads the charges in detail, including the stabbing of the dead man, and feel acutely that I'm stuck in a waiting room of life's bad choices. Guilty or not, something went wrong for everyone in this room in order to get here. I wonder how many of them are really innocent. Would they admit it if they weren't?

Then my eye lands on her, the young hispanic girl ten feet away from me watching Cesar. I squint at her to see if I recognize her. I don't, but I can tell she's definitely here for him. Then she looks over at me, sees me watching her, and quickly looks away. I elbow Matt.

“That girl over there,” I say to him, nodding toward her, “We need to talk to that girl.” She pretends not to notice that we're looking at her.

I turn back to the proceedings as the judge finishes talking. “Do you understand the charges as set forth before you?” he asks.

Cesar says, “Yes, your honor.”

The judge shuffles his paperwork. “Given the seriousness of the crime I'm going to deny bail and remand you to custody. Preliminary hearing is set for two weeks.” He bangs his gavel and then it's done. This part is decided. My brother will be in jail for the next two weeks.

Cesar looks back and forth between Coughlin and me. I jump up and move to the front of the room where he is, but the guard is already taking him away.

“Cesar, don't worry. Be strong, we'll get you out,” I say. Cesar looks panicked, like a caged animal. Which is exactly what he is.

“Help me get out of here, Ellie. Don't give up on me,” he says over his shoulder. He's completely deflated. He's trying not to cry, but I can see it in his eyes. Then the guard takes him through the door and just like that he's gone.

I turn to Matt and bury my face in his chest. He strokes my hair.

“We'll get him out,” he says. “Everything will be okay.”

I pull back and wipe my eyes and my nose. Then I see the girl who was sitting near us walk out the door.

“Her,” I say. “She came here for Cesar. I have to find out why.” And I take off after her. Matt follows me.

In the hallway, I call out to her.

“Hey!”

She slows down but doesn't stop.

“Hey!” I say again. “Stop for a minute.” She stops, knowing I'm talking to her. She turns around slowly. I walk up to her.

“How do you know my brother?” I demand.

“Who's your brother again?” she says back, sassy.

“Do you think this is funny?” I practically yell in her face.

This gets her attention. She immediately backs down. She shrugs and moves nervously from foot to foot.

I try again, attempting to stay calm. “How do you know Cesar?”

She looks at me, then away, then looks at me, then away. She's nervous and I'm not sure why.

“We're friends,” she says.

“Are you even eighteen?” I ask. “What kind of friends are you?”

“I'm twenty-three,” she says, indignantly. She looks around and down at her feet some more. “I see him around. He's nice to me when the other guys are jerks.”

Matt's trying to piece the puzzle together, too. “What other guys?” he asks.

She gets shifty again. She doesn't answer.

“What's your name?” I ask her.

“Gloria,” she says, reluctantly.

“I'm Ellie,” I say, “And this is Matt. You know what's going on in there, right? You know they're trying to put him in jail for killing someone he didn't kill.”

She hangs her head and nods. She might even be crying.

“He might have to stay in there for most of his life. And when he gets out he won't be nice anymore.”

She sniffles and wipes her nose. “Yeah,” she says.

Matt and I look back and forth at each other quickly. He nods at me to keep going.

“If you knew something that could help Cesar, I bet you'd tell us. Because I can see you're nice, too,” I say.

She thinks about it for a minute, her hair covering her eyes. It's all I can do to not interrogate her, but I bite my tongue and manage to keep quiet and wait. Then I hear her say something quietly.

“What did you say, Gloria?” I ask, leaning closer.

“He didn't do it,” she says.

“I know, honey. We need to know who did so we can make sure Cesar doesn't go to prison.”

She thinks about it for another minute. I watch her wheels turning, trying to decide whether or not to give up someone who's probably her homie. She finally looks up at me through red eyes.

“Cesar already got stabbed and wasn't even there. He went to see you, to get fixed. Then my cousin Johnny came up and stabbed Esteban and he just died right in front of us. And Johnny told the cops Cesar did it, and told me to shut up and not talk. Johnny's my family, I didn't know what to do. I got scared.”

She's crying now, and I hug her.

“You did the right thing, telling the truth,” I say. “It will be hard, but you'll tell the detectives what you just told us, right? We need to get Cesar out of there. You can help him, you can make the difference between life and death for him.”

She nods and keeps crying. Matt keeps his hand on my shoulder, supporting me while I'm supporting Gloria, and I'm suddenly exhausted. Cesar will be okay, I think, relief pouring through my body. This girl will do the right thing and Cesar will be okay.

Chapter Thirty-One

Matt and I are back in town, sitting at the local bar with cheeseburgers and beers in front of us. I'm exhausted, totally mentally spent.

“What day is it even?” I say. “What time?”

“Satur-tues,” says Matt, taking a drink. “Ten-ninety-four pm.”

I'm worn out. “I'm starving but not starving. Thirsty but not thirsty.”

He nods. He puts his elbow on the bar and leans his head on his fist, watching me. I take a drink of beer and watch him back. I smile.

“Not hungry either?” I ask.

He shakes his head no. “What I am is worried. About us.”

I nod. I look down at my hands.

After Gloria agreed to tell the truth about Johnny being the murderer, not Cesar, Matt and I took her to the bailiff, who took us to the Judge's chambers. We sat with her while the judge listened to her story, and then he called in the detectives from Cesar's case and had her retell it to them.

The whole time we were sitting there I was thinking that at any moment the bailiff would bring Cesar in, take off his handcuffs, and he'd come home with us. The end.

But that's not quite how it went down. The judge thanked Gloria for being honest, then admonished her to never again let a lie get so far advanced that an innocent man would be in danger of being sent to jail. Then he sent her home.

As soon as the door closed I asked the judge when we could see Cesar, but right then someone knocked on his chamber door. When it opened it was Mr. Coughlin, my brother's attorney.

I thought it would be simple, the coming home part. But the judge wasn't happy about Cesar's prior record, and the fact that when he stumbled into the hospital that night he had drugs in his system, or that he was at the scene of the crime getting stabbed to begin with. He brought up the possibility of jail time. I jumped out of my chair.

Matt put his calming hands on me and I sat down, and Mr. Coughlin started talking about Cesar's past, about how I took care of him growing up, and what a good influence I was and am in his life. I remember Matt and I exchanging a look, like, “The lawyer
was
listening this whole time.”

The judge studied me, asked me a few questions, considered the options, and made a decision.

Cesar would go to a halfway house for nine months, with rehab counsellors on site. He would leave only to go back and forth to work, and I would participate in mandated visits with him and with his social workers to provide a stable, dependable, familial presence.

The judge asked if it was acceptable to all parties, that those were the terms of the deal, and I was so thrilled that Cesar wouldn't be doing jail time that I jumped up and thanked him profusely. I thanked Mr. Coughlin, I hugged Matt, and ran out into the hall to wait for Cesar to come out.

And then finally he did. No handcuffs, no orange jumpsuit. Just my little brother in his street clothes, carrying a brown paper bag holding his belongings. I hugged him so hard that he told me I was popping his stitches.

After dropping him off at the halfway house and settling him in, Matt and I came to the bar.

And the one thing I didn't concentrate on as the judge was remanding Cesar to nine months of supervised living was the role I'd have to play in his life as he gets better. That I'd have to be here for him. That I'll have to stay here for him. Here, not Australia. Here.

I look up from my hands at Matt and he's still watching me. He moves a piece of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.

“It's ironic,” he says, “that we're both in the same boat, but on completely different shores. Me with my nephew and you with your brother.”

“I was so excited that he wasn't going to jail that I barely even heard the judge talking about how I'll have to be here to help him.”

Matt nods. He takes another drink.

“Nine months,” I say. I smile hopefully at him.

He smiles back, his eyes sad, and nods.

Chapter Thirty-Two

I'm at Matt's house watching him pack.

This is terrible, I can barely stand it. I move around nervously, through stacks of boxes and clothes, adding books and photos, working as slowly as possible to delay the inevitable.

“Hey, you,” he says to me when he emerges from packing a suitcase in the other room. He pulls me close and kisses me. I kiss back. Those lips. This is killing me.

I pull away. “This is so stupid!” I yell. “I hate it!”

“Want to throw some plates?” he asks. “I do.”

We look at each other. This is the worst. Tomorrow he'll be gone, and I'll be here without him, and it's just not right.

“Did you talk to Cesar today?” he asks, stacking books.

I nod. “He's okay. He's tired from the stress of everything. And he's still too skinny. I'm taking him some food tonight.”

Matt tosses the last book on top of the stack and sits on top of it. He sighs heavily. “It's going to kill me to be apart from you.”

“I can't even think about it,” I say. I don't look at him. I keep shifting papers and coffee mugs around. I don't even know what I'm doing.

“Look at me,” he says. “Let me see your eyes while I still can.”

I won't. It's too hard to keep having this conversation. I need to stay here and be with Cesar during his recovery, and Matt needs to be with his family.

Frustrated, Matt grabs me, picks me up and lifts me so I'm sitting on the top back edge of the couch and we're eye-to-eye.

“Talk,” he says.

“I can't,” I say.

“You can't what? Talk?” he demands.