Someone Else's Fairytale

Sixteen: First Kiss

We all made our way down the hall, only Jason hung several steps behind. I fell back so that we could talk.

“Chlo, I'm really sorry,” was the first thing he said. “I didn't know how bad it was. I should never have barged in on that.”

“I'm glad someone was here. I thought I could do this alone, but it was dumb to even try.”

A woman in a skirt and blouse came around the corner and planted herself in front of Doug and Steve. They both turned to wait for me to catch up.

“You've got your restraining order,” the woman said. “So the way this works is that it's effective immediately. You need to leave the courthouse now, and once you're away, we'll let Mr. Winters know that he can leave.”

“Thank you,” said Doug.

“Can I drive you home?” asked Jason.

“Jason,” said his father. “Chloe gets seen leaving the courthouse with you, the press might go find her old case.”

“Wait a minute,” said the woman. “You're... you're...”

“Yeah, hi,” said Jason.

She blinked and looked at Doug and Steve.

“There aren't that many Vanderholts in Albuquerque,” said Doug. “You're looking at about half of them.”

“We have a back exit. Would that be better?”

“You know, it would. Thank you,” said Jason. He turned to me. “You go out the front and meet me at the car, it cuts down on photo opportunities.”

“Jason,” said his father.

“Dad, I left my house in a car with tinted windows without telling anyone, besides Dave, where I was going.”

“Does that usually work?” his father asked.

Jason frowned and looked at the floor.

“It's okay, really,” I said. “I'll go meet you in the parking garage. Where's your car?” If Jason wanted to talk to me this badly, I could talk to him. If there were more paparazzi photos, well, I'd deal with it.

“Third level,” Jason said. “By the stairs.”

“Well, in that case.” Doug turned to Steve. “Post hearing powwow?”

“You got time?”

“I do.”

“Then yeah, that'd be great.”

“This way.” The woman gestured for Jason to follow her down the side hall. He tugged forward his baseball cap and got his sunglasses ready. The rest of us headed for the front door.

***

“So,” said Jason, as we pulled out of the parking lot in his Prius, “after they airlifted you, what happened?”

“I don't know. I was unconscious. I woke up two days later in a room that smelled like a flower shop.”

“And Chris was in jail?”

“I don't know all that. They arrested him, don't know if he posted bail or what. But there was a woman in my room who asked me what I remembered and was really happy that I could name Chris. She was from the DA's office, and you know, it might've been your mom.”

“Maybe. Your testimony must've really clinched it, then.”

“I dunno. It helped, but the forensics people were amazing.”

“Even though he wiped his prints off the gun?”

“Even though. First the cops noted that the gun was still hot from being fired. Then the forensics people matched the gun to the bullet that was buried in my shoulder, and found fibers from Chris's t shirt on the handle. They found powder burns on Chris's hands and residue on his clothes. The prints didn't matter. With some relatively simple tests, they had him nailed. And there was no one else out on the mesa, the cops weren't suspects, and everyone knew I couldn't have done that to myself.”