Unlawfully Wed

The next Saturday, Alex and John left Alex's house at six o'clock on the dot. They got on the highway a little after six-thirty, and by seven, they were slurping down frappes and chewing on McMuffins as they sped off towards the prison. John was driving and Alex was sitting in the passenger seat with the Manila folder of case files on his lap. He had spent the last week combing through all of the police reports, and he wasn't any closer to figuring out whether or not George was guilty, nor had he found any leads on the missing cabbie.

He cleared his throat and adjusted the way he was sitting. He looked over at John before looking back at the folder, flipping the cover back and skimming over the page again. "So, what exactly am I looking for again?" he asked, picking up the paper and rubbing it between his fingers.

John glanced over at him with a tilt of his head, his eyebrows raised and his lips pursed. "Seriously, Alex? This isn't our first rodeo with this thing."

"I know that, John, but cut me a little slack here. This is George we're talking about." He put the paper back onto his lap and closed the folder before leaning forward to put it into his messenger bag. He sat back up and shifted his hips, pressing his back against the door so he was facing John. "I'm at a loss, here."

"I know you are, but hey," he put on his blinker as he got into the exit for the prison, "we still have a little less than six months to figure all this out. We don't have to have all the answers right now."

Alex nodded, but he didn't say anything until the prison was in view. He directed John on where to park, his heart rate increasing as John shut the car off. He coughed and shimmied into the seat, desperately hoping that if he moved slowly enough, the seat would consume him whole.

John rolled his eyes and reached over to unbuckle Alex before unbuckling himself and opening the car door. He stepped out and paused before turning back around, putting a hand on the roof of the car and leaning down to look through at Alex. "Are you coming or am I going to have to seduce Ryker all by myself?"

Now it was Alex's turn to roll his eyes. In all of the stress of bringing John to see George, he had totally forgotten about the main reason why John wanted to come along. He had managed to finagle Ryker's number out of Alex's phone, and had been texting him almost constantly since Monday night. "You'll seduce him by yourself, anyway. Or were those pictures you sent him this morning just a camera slip?"

John flushed. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice breaking and his hand shaking as he moved it up to cup the back of his neck.

Alex blinked, momentarily thankful to have his thoughts turned away from George. "We share an iCloud, remember? And you, dear Laurens, have your phone set to automatically upload *all* of your images."

John flushed harder, and he bit his lip before standing up straight. He stared at the prison for a moment before leaning back down, sticking his head into the car. "Come on. We drove all this way; you're not pussying out on me now."

Alex groaned in annoyance, but he unbuckled his seat belt, anyway. He got out of the car and grabbed his messenger bag. He put it over his shoulder and stood up straight, pulling at his tie and staring at his reflection in the window. He messed with his hair, and straightened his belt buckle, doing anything he could do to stall.

"Come on, pretty boy, there's nothing else you can do. You look plenty professional." Alex ignored him, and kept adjusting his shirt. John let out a low growl and walked around the car, grabbing Alex's elbow and pulling him away from the car. Alex began to protest, but John ignored him, continuing to pull on his arm until they reached the entrance to the prison.

Just like the previous Saturday, there were families and significant others wandering throughout the parking lot and waiting in line to pass through the metal detectors. There seemed to be more visitors this time, as the line was all the way out the door.

Fortunately, John and Alex didn't have to wait. Ryker was guarding the detectors, and as soon as he saw the men, he ushered them to the front of the line. He smiled at Alex before his eyes turned to John, locking on him and scanning the length of his body. "Hey, you," he said, rocking back on his heel and popping his hip out to the side, making his already-snug uniform pants mold to his round rear and strong, shapely legs.

Alex knew the greeting was not for him, so he simply nodded while John took a step closer to Ryker. "Hey, yourself."

Ryker bit his lip seductively and winked before gesturing with his head towards the hallway Alex had used last time. "Care to keep me company while your friend here goes and works with his client? I'm sure your inmate doesn't need both of you to talk to him if right away." He stepped away from John to let the next visitor through before moving back into his space. "I promise it'll excite the both of us more." He winked again.

John's eyes darkened, and it was clear that he was considering taking Ryker up on his offer. Alex quickly put a stop to that, however, by grabbing John's wrist and gently tugging him away from the other man. "Come on, John, I'm sure you two will have plenty of time to hang out once Ryker's shift is over."

John looked disappointed, but he didn't argue with Alex. He gave Ryker an apologetic look before following to the start of the hallway, where another guard was waiting to take the pair to the consulting rooms.

Neither John nor Alex said anything as they walked down the hallway, but as soon as they got into the room and the guard had left, John crossed his arms and gave Alex a mock-glare. "I was trying to talk to the future Mr. Laurens, asshole."

Alex raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Whatever you say, John. Like I said you two will have *plenty* of time to fuck around once we finish up here. Right now we need to focus on George. Hell, I'll even go look for the cabbie before we go back so Ryker and you can put some of that sexual energy aside and actually *focus* for once."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I focus plenty, thank you very much." He shrugged his suit jacket off and collapsed down onto the chair, interlacing his fingers over his stomach and kicking his feet, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the concrete floor. "Where is this guy, anyway? Aren't inmates on, like, a time schedule or some shit? Or is this prison beneath federal guidelines?"

Alex sighed and sat down next to John, glancing up at the door before picking up his messenger bag and pulling out the folder. He took out the missing person reports, as well as the pictures, and turned them around so that George would be able to easily see them when he came in. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. "We still technically have three minutes until visiting hours start."

Before John had time to respond, however, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," Alex said softly, his palms beginning to sweat. He wiped them off on his pants as the guard led George in.

Just like the last visit, the guard restated his three-knock policy before pushing George down into the chair opposite Alex and John and leaving the room. George, who was clearly not expecting to see John, cleared his throat uncomfortably and lifted his cuffed hands to scratch at his nose. John stared at him with a mixture of disdain and professional interest, while George simply looked frightened and anxious as he greeted the two men.

"Uhm, hello, Alex, hello, John," he said, sucking his lower lip in between his teeth and biting down on it. His eyes shifted around, and he fidgeted for a few seconds before he caught sight of the first of the photographs. "That's my house," he said quietly, leaning forward and running his fingers over the broken frame in the kitchen photo. "I never got to see it after I was arrested. I wasn't aware how badly it was disturbed."

"You mean you didn't know it had been ransacked?" John asked, his voice coming out forced as he tried to keep any past anger towards George at bay. He moved his folded hands up onto the table and rocked forward until they held much of his weight. "The files all say that you were arrested that afternoon a few towns over from here."

George nodded. "Yes."

"Why weren't you at home? You can see why the detectives thought it was suspicious, you being 'away' when she was murdered and all."

George frowned, and Alex kicked John in the shin. When he looked over, Alex narrowed his eyes at him for being so crass before turning back to face George. "What John is *trying* to ask," he began, pausing when John kicked him back, "is if you have an alibi, maybe something you forgot about when the detectives on your case started investigating you. Maybe something that came back to you over the last few months." He moved the missing persons report into the center before pointing at the "last seen" section. "Where were you between here and when they found you?"

George's frown deepened, and he shook his head. "I don't know. The last thing I remember is getting into an argument with Lawrence, and then I woke up in a cell." Lawrence was George's older brother. "I've tried to rack my brain, tried to figure out how all of this happened, but I haven't the foggiest. It's like I blocked out that entire week."

John and Alex looked at one another. If George was telling the truth, making the case in his favor wasn't going to be easy. They would have to dig deeper into the evidence to make things right.

Alex cleared his throat. "Was there any ill feelings between Martha and you near the end? Anything that would have made the police suspicious of you? I mean, finding you in another town wasn't exactly great, but it didn't make you the prime suspect, either. Was there any blood on your clothing? Shards of glass in your skin?"

At first, George didn't answer. He stared down at the table and furrowed his brows, his teeth sinking harder into his lip. Alex was beginning to feel sick about the whole thing, his own suspicion about George growing the longer that the three men sat in silence. John seemed to be worried, too, his eyes widening and his left foot tapping out an irregular pattern onto the floor.

Eventually, though, George began to speak. "No, there wasn't any ill feelings between us before she died. Things were going really well, actually--JP just started his second year at college, he had a 3.9 gpa and had been on the deans list twice; my produce was selling exceptionally well, and I had just finished building my boat; Martha's boutique had received a five-star review in the local newspaper . . . no one had any problems with us."

"And you still think she committed suicide?" George nodded. John tapped on the table for a moment before pulling out his notepad and a pen. "Why do you think that?"

Again, George seemed to be thinking through his answer before responding. He twiddled his thumbs and rocked in his seat before saying, "Martha suffered from depression for most of her life. She's been in and out of hospitals when things got bad. She tried to take her life on three different occasions since we began dating . . . when the police officers finally told me what my supposed crime was, I just knew that she had finally gone through with it."

Unlike the first time George talked about Martha with Alex, there were no tears brimming his eyes. His hands were shaking and his jaw was clenched, but he looked more aggravated than he did heartbroken.

John scribbled down a few notes on his paper pad before asking another question. Alex was beginning to really appreciate having John there. He wasn't sure he would have been able to led a solid discussion, especially when all he could do was study George's reactions and try and rationalize the case to himself. "How did she try to kill herself?"

"Pills, car accident, with a noose."

"What caused her failures? Are you sure she wasn't just trying to garnish some attention, maybe trying to seem vulnerable to make herself more desirable?"

George clenched his hands into fists and continued to bore holes through the table. "No. My wife was not like that. She was a good woman."

"But she did fail at her attempts three times. Maybe that meant she didn't really want to die. Maybe she just--"

"Look, John, I know Alexander asked you to help him tolerate me until my trial, but I deserve more than you making assumptions about my wife," George interrupted, his eyes flashing with anger as he looked up at John. "We were friends once, Laurens. At least give me a fair fucking chance."

John raised his hands in defense, his palms facing George and his fingers splayed. He leaned back in chair as his eyebrows shot straight up. "Listen, man, these are the kinds of questions that are going to get brought up in trial. You want a chance at walking? Then man the fuck up and answer my questions as concisely as you can. Getting defensive and angry and shit? That just makes you look guilty." He leaned back forward. "But hey, that's your call. We're not friends anymore. I couldn't give less of a fuck about whether you win the case or not if I tried."

George's eyes were still flashing in anger, although now he was looking back and forth between Alex and John. Alex was too overwhelmed to speak, but it was clear from the way that George's eyes were darkening that he expected the younger man to step up and defend him. When he didn't, George grit his teeth and kicked the leg of the table, making Alex jump.

"Goddamit, what do I have to do to make you guys treat me like a human being again? I messed up, I know I did, but John, I always thought that we clicked, and Alex, I know you're never going to forgive me for what I did to you, but you're the only chance I got. Getting a decent lawyer in a town this small? *Everyone* thinks I murdered Martha; there's not a single lawyer willing to take my case! You say you're 'prepping' me, but I can read it in your eyes that you actually believe I could be capable of murder. Unbelievable."

George finished his rant with a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging and his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to calm down. John was still wearing an expression of anger, but the way he was holding himself, perched on the edge of his seat and slightly curling into himself, showcased his own guilt. He sat there for a moment before standing up and walking to the door. He knocked on it thrice, and when the guard opened it, stormed out of the room with a trail of papers following behind him.

As the guard pushed all the papers back into the room with his foot, Alex cleared his throat and tried to turn the discussion back to the case. His voice was raspy when he spoke, and it succeeded in making the tension in the air feel even thicker. "You didn't answer my question earlier. Why do the police think *you* did it? It'd be normal for your DNA to be on her, or for your fingerprints to be in the house, so that's not why. There has to be another reason."

George let out a breath through his nose and closed his eyes, counting to ten before speaking. "Yes, there was blood on my clothing when the police found me, and yes, some of it was Martha's, but most of it was mine." He sat up straight and moved his hands to his collar, slipping his fingers under the fabric and stretching it out as far as he could to show a puckered scar along his collar bone. "I was bleeding from here. I have no idea what caused it."

"Do you remember why you didn't go to work that day? Why you didn't call anyone?"

"I told you, I don't remember anything up until I woke up in a cell. Not a detail, not a sight, sound, anything. It's like I blinked and days went by." He closed his eyes and frowned again, letting out a small whimper before looking back at Alex, his voice coming out as a whisper. "Alex, I don't know what happened to Martha, or why I can't remember anything. I know you don't understand but I'm terrified. There's no way I could do anything to Martha, I know myself well enough to know that, but . . . if I didn't do anything wrong, why do I not remember?"

Alex sighed and shook his head before standing and gathering the papers off the floor. He put them into a stack before taking them to the table, bouncing them against the wood until all the edges lined up. "I don't know, George, but John and I will do whatever it takes to prove your innocence." He picked up his folder and John's notebook and packed them away, grabbing both bags and throwing them over his shoulder before looking back at George. "I'll come back next Saturday, all right?"

George didn't answer. Alex stares at him for a moment before going to the door and knocking three times.

Winning this case definitely was not going to be easy.