Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
“Well, Mr. Walsh has been accused of sexual harassment and potential sexual violence,” she begins.
“What?!?!” I scream. “How is that possible? He’s almost eighty! He can’t even get out of a wheelchair without help!”
The detective nods.
“You’d be surprised,” she says in a mild tone. “Sometimes the most unlikely perpetrators are most vicious, precisely because they’re such unlikely suspects.”
“But sexual violence?” I scream again. “How is that possible?”
The detective takes a deep breath and fixes me with a look.
“Well, the talk around town is that he’s been violent with you, Miss Sherwood.”
That takes me aback.
“With me?” I parrot dumbly. “No! We read books together. Fred Walsh has never laid a finger on me in my life.”
Detective Harris nods.
“I understand, but sometimes it’s difficult for victims to acknowledge what’s happened to them. The human mind works in mysterious ways, and oftentimes the victim compartmentalizes what they’re experiencing in order to survive from one day to another. Don’t worry though, Miss Sherwood, you don’t have to protect Fred Walsh anymore. He’ll go before a judge soon enough.” I stare at the woman dumbly as she pats my shoulder and gets up. “We’ll be in touch,” Detective Harris adds before exiting with a wave. “You can count on it.”
I sit there in shocked silence as the front door closes. Mr. Walsh has been harassing me? No, this is absolutely absurd and clearly the rumors flying around town about us have taken a turn for the worse. This is absolutely insane!
Quickly, I get up and run out to my car because maybe Morgan can help. He’s an attorney, and he knows Fred well, not to mention the court system. If anyone will be able to assist Mr. Walsh, it’s my boyfriend. I jump into the driver’s seat and put the pedal to the metal because the old man’s life is at stake, and I have to do something to help.
10
Natalie
It’s been a long week since Mr. Walsh was thrown in jail. The day it happened, I immediately rushed to Morgan’s house and thankfully, the powerful lawyer was home. I cried buckets as he opened the door, nearly hyperventilating as I tried to tell him what had happened.
But Morgan’s the consummate professional, in addition to being a caring boyfriend. He sat me down on the couch and rubbed my back as I sobbed into his chest, blubbering in a mangled mishmash of words. Finally, the story came out and Morgan was just as stunned as me to hear the allegations. Sexual harassment? Sexual violence? It was nuts.
He sat there for a moment in molten silence, and then those brilliant blue eyes blazed with a stormy fury. After he made sure that I was alright, he stood up to grab his phone and basically went into overdrive. Calls were made to everyone and anyone: contacts at City Hall, Mr. Walsh’s sons, and of course, a premier defense attorney. The wheels were put in motion and fortunately, Fred was out on bail soon enough. To my surprise, when I asked about Fred’s mental state, Morgan said that he was doing okay. Evidently, the elderly man has seen quite a lot in his day, and was relatively chipper and cheerful.
But now, we’re at a town hall to address the rumors. I don’t even know what exactly is supposed to happen, but it turns out that the community is up in arms and wants to convene in a public forum to discuss my private life. It sounds like a witch hunt, if you ask me.
When I enter the high school auditorium, I see Mr. Walsh sitting at the front of the room in his wheelchair with a plaid blanket draped over his lap. He’s busy talking with people I don’t recognize and what my boyfriend said is true: the older man actually looks quite vigorous, given the circumstances. Morgan and I take seats near the front as well because I’m planning on speaking as well. Again, I don’t know what’s supposed to come of this Town Hall, but I do know I have some choice words for these nosy bystanders.
The auditorium is packed with people, and I catch a glimpse of my parents in the back, dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs. My mom’s face is pale and drawn, and my dad looks haggard. I feel terrible, but at this juncture, what can I do? Then my eyes slide to Tommy Crew, who’s sitting with a bunch of football jocks. As expected, the young man has a sneer on his handsome face as he surveys the crowd. Clearly, he’s here to jeer at my expense.
The meeting gets started with Mr. Criss, our mayor, banging a gavel. He does a quick introduction, and then invites Fred to speak. The older man takes the microphone and proclaims that he did nothing wrong. There’s some hissing and booing, and it’s clear that no one believes him.