Page 103 of The Best Lawyer
I plugged A.C. Dover into my browser’s search bar. A couple of candidates popped up. There was an Alan Dover living on Brentwood Lane in Clinton. But he was in his fifties.
I found an Aaron Dover, twenty-five. 2942 Rance Road, Apartment 312. That had to be Jenna’s muscle head.
Aaron Charles Dover. A.C. The initials were right. He graduated from Delphi High six years ago.His initials.
Initials …
I grabbed my trial notebook. It consisted of my handwritten notes as the trial progressed. Things I’d jotted down during witness testimony. Reminders to myself to ask certain follow-up questions on the fly.
Jenna knew where Tom kept everything in that house.
The knife. She said she’d never seen the knife before that morning.
I closed my eyes and tried to replay her testimony. I’d asked her about the knife. I asked her to describe it. I scoured my notes, struggling to read my own chicken scratch.
Initials. When I asked her what was carved into the handle, she said initials. Not letters. Initials.
I went back to my browser search for A.C. Dover. The third entry down in my search results tagged an obituary.
I pulled it up.
“Xavier Zeller, aged 79, passed away peacefully surrounded by his loving family. A former Marine and Vietnam veteran, Grandpa Z was a gentle, quiet warrior who loved God and Country …”
I scrolled down to the end of the obituary where Aaron Charles was referenced. “Survived by his daughter, Wendy (Ned) Dover, and four grandchildren: Connor, Sierra, Aaron, and his namesake Xavier III …”
Something shifted inside of me. My heart leapt into my throat. It took me three times to read the name and truly process it.
Grandpa Z. His full name was Xavier Yancey Zeller.
His initials were X. Y. Z.
Chapter 35
Katy panickedwhen I walked into the courtroom. It wasn’t seeing me that upset her. It was that I walked in alone.
“I just want to be clear,” Jeanie said. She stood with her back to me at the lectern. In the witness box, Lissa Daughtry looked expensive. Someone had outfitted her with a tailored crème suit, salon-styled dark hair, and freshly manicured nails.
“You’re not here only out of some sense of justice, are you, Ms. Daughtry?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lissa responded. “I told the truth. You people asked me what Katy said to me. I told you what I remember.”
“You people,” Jeanie repeated. “You mean Mr. Quick, don’t you?”
“Mr. Quick. The police. That podcaster lady. And now you.”
That “podcaster lady” sat in the back row. Tallon raised a brow and smirked as she saw me. I made my way quietly up to the defense table and took a seat next to Katy.
“Where is he? Where’s Eric?” she whispered.
The judge shot both of us a look.
“Let’s talk about Mr. Quick then, since you brought it up,” Jeanie said. “Tell me again what you were charged with? Why were you in jail?”
“Solicitation,” she said. “But it was a misunderstanding and I’m sorting it out.”
“Sorting it out. Let’s talk about that. You’re sorting it out with the prosecutor, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
