Ivy had a sick feeling here.
“It’s late, Claire. We shouldn’t bother her,” Jensen said. He put his hand on her shoulder.
If there is anyone you should stay away from in this town, it’s Jensen Atwood. Ivy couldn’t tear her gaze from that hand on Claire’s shoulder.
Wow, how quickly small-town prejudices tangled her thoughts, her opinions. She stepped back. “No, that’s okay. How can I help?”
“It’ll only take a minute,” Claire said. “I know it’s late, but . . . well, us being neighbors, I figured it was okay.”
Huh. “Sit down.”
Ivy turned toward the table and froze. The file on Felicity Christiansen. She rushed over, closed it. Dumped it all onto a chair. “How about on the sofa?”
She’d inherited the sofa from the previous tenant, something green and a bit smelly, but she was rarely here . . . Still, she cringed when Jensen and Claire sat down, their faces so expectant. As if somehow she might save the day. As if she hadn’t had a conversation with Jensen’s probation officer about the very real threat of his probation violation.
And then there was the little matter that she’d set up his probation in the first place. At least that he’d be behind bars if it weren’t for her.
Which, if she stood in Darek’s shoes, might be a good thing.
But she wasn’t dating Darek, and right now, Claire had a clear grip on Jensen’s hand.
This town had suddenly become microscopic.
Ivy tried not to look at the file, some of the papers scattered on the floor like grenades.
Brilliant, Ivy.
“What’s going on?” She crossed her leg, her foot tapping. Forced a casual, neighborly, how-can-I-help? smile.
“Well, Jensen is on probation.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And he has a bunch of community service he has to fulfill.”
“Hmm.”
“The problem is, he doesn’t have time to complete it, so we were wondering if there is any way to get more time.”
“Mmm.”
Claire smiled at Ivy.
Oh, her turn. “Jensen . . . uh, do you have a defense attorney? He could file a motion on your behalf to extend your probation.”
“I’m self-represented, ma’am.”
Oh, boy.
“Okay. Have you talked to your probation officer?” She hated this part.
“I have. He . . . Well, see . . .”
“The thing is, Jensen was unfairly charged. He—he didn’t do what they accused him of,” Claire said, a little too brightly.
Ivy swallowed. “Hmm.”
“Vehicular homicide,” Claire said.
Jensen cringed, looked away.
“But he was innocent—it was an accident.”
Ivy nodded.
“No, really!” Claire said.
Jensen had his eyes closed now.
And that’s when Ivy’s heart went out to him. Wasn’t that why she came to Deep Haven? To help people? And frankly, when he met her eyes and offered a sad smile, she wanted to like him. Once upon a time, she’d read his statements as a mere clerk, unbiased, and in her dark cubicle, she’d believed in his innocence so much, despite the circumstantial evidence, that she’d spent hours and hours finding him a way out.
Maybe she was naive, but back then she’d believed in second chances, in the law helping people change their lives, and most of all, in doing her very best to see that justice won, even in no-win situations.
Which was why the words came to her. “You could try for clemency. It’s rarely given, but sometimes—”
“Clemency!” Claire sat up. “Yes!”
“But I can’t file that because I’m a prosecutor. I’d be the one filing the complaint against him.” She spoke her words slowly, clearly.
But she did want to help. She just didn’t want anyone to know.
Like Darek. Although he hadn’t exactly chased her down, wooed her heart from her, had he?
Maybe him not calling was all for the best, before she got too entangled in a conflict of interest.
“Listen. Go online. There’s a form and instructions. If you follow that, you can submit a motion for clemency. I can’t make any guarantees, but . . .”
“Thank you, Ivy. You’re the best!” Claire jumped up from the sofa and wrapped her arms around Ivy.
Jensen held out his hand. “Thank you, Ivy. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting any help.”
Of course not. “Glad to meet you, Jensen.”
She turned off the floodlight after they let themselves out. Watched as Jensen walked over to a shiny black Mustang and Claire gave him an awkward wave as she wheeled her bike away.
Hmm.
Okay, so living in a small town might be a smidgen more complicated than Ivy had thought, but she handled that without any land mines, right? She’d simply offered them advice. Hadn’t gotten her hands dirty, hadn’t run into any quagmires of ethical violations.