Page 69 of Pulling Strings

“The floor is yours,” Maximus told her. “You may begin when you’re ready.” When he sat, Talbot and I followed suit.

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Aster rounded her table to approach the jury box. It looked like a move out of every TV court drama I’d seen. When she started speaking, it sounded that way, too.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Today, we are here seeking justice for the victims of one of the most notorious killers this city has ever seen. The defendant sitting before you, Fitch Patrick Farrow, also known as Marionette, is a skilled telekinetic who used his abilities to commit the most heinous of crimes.”

Her confidence shook mine, and I was already on thin ice.

“His actions as a member of terrorist group, the Bloody Hex, have caused immeasurable pain and suffering to the families and loved ones of his victims.”

Holland Lyle’s shock of white hair drew my eye to the front row of the audience. Well, less her hair and more the way she leaned over the railing separating her from the seated Willem Briggs while they exchanged whispered words.

“Throughout this trial, you will hear overwhelming evidence that will leave no doubt in your minds as to the guilt of the defendant,” Aster continued. “You will hear witness accounts of brutal murders, see irrefutable evidence of the defendant’s allegiance to the Bloody Hex, and be presented with security footage placing him at the scene of multiple crimes.”

Grimm would have had a field day with that last bit. Mister “not all of us have such trouble with security cameras.” Fuck him.

Where was he, by the way? Rather, where was Jacoby Thatcher? It was rare to see Maximus anywhere without his trusty sidekick.

“We will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Fitch Farrow is responsible for countless horrific crimes and must be held accountable for his actions,” Aster said. “There is no justification for the atrocities he has committed. He is a menace to our society and should be put to death.”

Quite the saleswoman. We’d only just begun, and she was already trying to close the deal.

I leaned over to ask Talbot, “Do they really have that much evidence?”

The tip of his head was far from the assurance I’d hoped for. “Time will tell,” he said.

If they did, I remembered the shock collar remote tucked in his jacket pocket. He seemed like a nice guy,and I’d hate to hurt him, but I couldn’t discount the efficacy of an elbow to the face. With the lawyer dazed, I could snag the remote and free myself. Or, more like propel myself into a firefight past every obstacle on my way out of the building, then the lawn beyond. It was a gamble, but one with potentially better odds than evading a guilty verdict.

“I’d like to call my first witness,” Aster announced. “Miss Beatriz Silva.”

My brow furrowed. Who the hell was that?

24

Guilty Until…

Beatriz Silva was a mousy, middle-aged woman I would have sworn I’d never seen before in my life. But, when she took her seat on the witness stand, she fixed me with a glare so cuttingly cold I didn’t doubt she knew me.

“Miss Silva,” Aster began, “can you tell the court about the events that happened in your home on October tenth, twelve years ago?”

Twelve years? Is this a trial or an archaeological dig?

Beatriz sniffled into an embroidered cloth kerchief. Her tears didn’t blur the malice in her dark eyes as she began to speak. “My husband was an investigator. Highly decorated. His career was his life. His passion. And his success made him a target. On the night of October tenth, we were attacked by those monsters.”

“Can you be more specific?” Aster asked.

“The Bloody Hex.” Beatriz snarled the words. “They broke into our house. Three men and the missing Farrow boy from the news.”

Aster nodded. “Is that boy—now man—in the room with us today?”

“He is.”

“Can you indicate him, please?”

When Beatriz stabbed a shaky finger at me, gasps from the audience drove me to roll my eyes. Was anyone truly surprised?

“They tied us up, my husband and I, then started arguing amongst themselves,” Beatriz continued. “There was so much shouting…” She winced as if pained by the memory. “They carried on for some time. Oddly, they kept talking about our dinner?”

That rang a bell.

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