Bad Things

25. Safe Sanctuary

"But Shawn was a minor too," Camila said, her voice and expression flustered.

Benedict held his hand up for a moment. "If that is the case—"

"What do you mean 'if'?" This time, her voice was challenging.

"Mila—" Shawn said.

"No, Shawn." Camila turned to him, her brows pinched together and her eyes angry. "You didn't turn nineteen until the next day! You were a minor too." She turned back to Benedict. "He was still a minor."

"I'm not disputing that fact, Camila, but the prosecutor will."

Camila sat back with a hard thump against the back of the booth and let out a huff.

"We have to be prepared for the question to come up," Benedict continued. "The fact that it was a matter of hours between the start of the party and Shawn's nineteen birthday—"

"But, I mean, technically, he wouldn't be nineteen until the exact time he was born on the seventeenth." Camila's words were desperate and somewhat hopeful. "Can't you argue—."

"I was born at twelve o' three A.M.," Shawn said, his voice low, quiet, as he turned to Camila, watching as the sliver of hope in her eyes melted into the dark brown abyss surrounding it. "So that really won't matter."

"You can understand how difficult this is going to be. You can bet Cabello's lawyers will be all over us to prove without a doubt that the act happened before midnight. Before twelve o' three A.M."

Shawn ran a hand through his hair. "How can we do that? We don't remember it. I don't know what time it was. Even if we did remember, it's not like I would have been looking for a clock."

"Then you'll need to find someone who does remember."

Camila snorted. "It's not like there was someone in the bathroom with us at the time."

"There has to be someone who saw you leave, or saw you go into or come out of the bathroom. People remember all sorts of trivial details when asked to recall them later. Somehow our brains retain that insignificant stuff, and we need to find someone who has in this instance. It's imperative we nail down the time as closely as we can."

"Why?" Shawn asked. "What difference is it going to make? It's not going to prove me innocent or guilty. There's nothing I can do to prove that since I am guilty." He gestured to Camila's protruding stomach. "All the proof they need of that is right here."

"Shawn ..." Camila said.

Benedict met Shawn's gaze, his hard and determined. "I'm not trying to prove you innocent. I'm trying to keep you out of jail." He leaned forward in the booth, his elbows resting on top. "If we can supply proof that you were still a minor, the sentence is far less. As an adult you're looking at one to three years in jail, then two years probation. As a juvenile, it's one year probation and no jail time. That's it. If we can find someone to corroborate that this all happened before your nineteenth birthday, then we can avoid a trial."