Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I don’t have a chance to think about it by the time the bailiff says to all rise. I put my hands on the desk and mumble to myself, “Let’s do this.”
For the next four days, I eat, sleep, and breathe the trial. I got a break over the weekend but all I did was think about the trial and how it was going. I need to win this trial so I reviewed everything over and again. Making sure I didn’t leave anything out, making sure that every single point was made. I briefly talked to Stone on Saturday but I wasn’t focused on our conversation and I told him that I would call him back. On Monday, when the closing arguments are done, I look over at the jury as they listen to Judge King give them instructions before they file out.
I’m back at the office the next day, waiting on the jury’s verdict when Stone calls. “It feels like I haven’t spoken to you in forever.”
“That’s because you haven’t,” he says. “Last time we spoke was three days ago and you said you would call me back.”
“Sorry,” I say, “court life. Are you home?” It dawns on me that I have no idea what his schedule is because it’s been that long.
“I am. We have a game tonight and then another tomorrow before I head out to Tampa, Fort Lauderdale, and then Washington.” He trails off, and I’m waiting for the dreaded question. “When will we see each other?” I think he’s gone easy on me since I’ve been in court, but if I were him, my patience would be growing thin. It’s been over three weeks since I’ve seen him last, and that visit was for less than twelve hours. The phone call goes silent, both of us thinking it but neither of us saying what should be said. Instead, we skate around the issue all the time. “Okay, I’ll let you go.”
“I’ll call you later,” I say before he hangs up.
That night, I have to stream the hockey game on my computer. My heart literally skips a beat when I see him on the screen. I can’t help the smile that fills my face, and my hand reaches out to touch the screen, just to touch his face.
The next day, late in the afternoon, I’m in my office when my phone rings, telling me the jury has reached their verdict. I rush toward the courthouse, my whole body a pack of nerves. I know that I gave it everything I had. I stand in the courtroom while the jury comes in, and I listen with bated breath as Judge King asks them, “Have you reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor.” The jury foreman stands up. I listen to the judge giving her the instructions, and then I hear her. “In the case against Robert Phillips.” I trail off until I hear, “We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty.” I close my eyes and try not to sit down in defeat, willing myself not to break down in the courtroom.
The judge thanks the jury for their time, but all I can hear are those two words. Not guilty.
I walk out of the courtroom in a daze, texting two people, my boss and then Stone, the same message to both.
Me: Jury just came back with a not guilty verdict.
I put my phone away, heading home right away. I shut the door behind me before I collapse at the door. Lying on my side, I watch the house turn pitch black. My whole body, which was on the go for the past two weeks, has now given out. I have no energy to do anything, not even move from the front door. I wait until I can muster up that energy to just get undressed. Leaving my clothes at the end of my bed, I slide under the covers, the tears streaming out of my eyes like a river. My pillowcase is soaked, but I just lie in it, looking at the stars outside my window. The moon rises in the sky, and I just lie here. The silence of my breathing fills the room when I hear tapping on my front door. I get up on my elbow, looking over to see it’s just a bit before midnight. I listen and again hear the tapping, so I get out of bed. My head feels like it weighs a million pounds, and my eyes feel like they weigh seven hundred pounds. I walk toward the tapping again, this time looking out of the peephole and seeing him standing there. I unlock the door in shock and disbelief, not sure this is really happening or maybe I’m dreaming again.
He stands there wearing a black suit and white dress shirt, the top two buttons open, holding a white box in his hand. “Stone?” I ask, not sure what is happening.