Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 201920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1010(@200wpm)___ 808(@250wpm)___ 673(@300wpm)
“That only holds true if in fact the testimony from both Mr. Warren and Allison Parker are reliable, and there are questions surrounding the validity of Miss Parker’s statement.” The prosecutor’s voice rings out and my fists turn white knuckled. I keep my gaze down, refusing to look at him and his tailored suit. The image of his face is clear in my mind as I keep my shoulders and neck stiff. His jaw is hard and cleanly shaven. His eyes cold and unforgiving. He’s a man who will fight to put me behind bars at all cost. The very thought should be terrifying as I sit here, because I did it. I murdered him. But I did it for her. And I’d do it again.
“With all due respect, Miss Parker’s statement is irrelevant. Mr. Warren’s mental state was determined by his perception when he arrived on the property. The same perception that the third witness, Mrs. Clemons, the adjacent neighbor who witnessed the end of the act, gave. As far as my client and Mrs. Clemons could both tell, Miss Parker was in imminent danger. Whether or not she’s even capable or willing to testify is irrelevant.”
The sound of the courtroom doors opening beg me to look behind me, but I resist. My body’s tight and my muscles coiled. I hardly trust myself to breathe. I can still feel Allie looking at me. I refuse to move unless it’s to go to her.
It’s only when my lawyer turns away from me and the soft whispers of furious voices make the rest of the room turn silent, that I force myself to look in my periphery.
The sound of two people walking down the aisle draws my attention more. A skinny young woman, dressed in black slacks and a loose, cream blouse, is hidden by the silhouette of the man beside her but as they walk, her face comes into view.
I think her name is Angie. She has the same chem lecture as Allison and me and I’ve seen her around a few times. She stands just past Mr. Beck, the prosecutor, and next to another man in a suit. I turn my head to make sure it’s her. Her blonde curls dangle in front of her face and I’m sure she’s doing it on purpose.
She’s ashamed. Even as she stands there, clasping her hands in front of her, she starts to cry. Silent tears that she quickly wipes away.
“Your honor, new evidence has just come to our attention and we’d like a recess.” Mr. Beck finally addresses the court, although his voice is laced with something that gives me hope.
Defeat.
“What is this new evidence?” the judge asks, his pale blue eyes moving between Angie and the man who brought her in.
“The prosecution’s defense rests heavily on the questionability of Miss Parker’s statement that Mr. Henderson was forcing himself on her. A witness has come forward stating the action of Mr. Henderson is a repeated offense.”
“As in, he attempted to rape her?” the judge clarifies and Angie lowers her head, tears falling freely, and this time she doesn’t brush them away.
“Charges were pressed in early August, but the case was never brought to court. The charges were dismissed.” The quiet air of the room changes, turning to whispers and murmurs. Back in early August I hadn’t been accepted into the program yet. But Kevin was here then at his parents’ place.
“Your honor,” Mr. Beck says, “the case was never—”
“They settled out of court?” the judge asks, cutting off Mr. Beck and the district attorney shakes his head no.
“The witness refused to testify and dropped the charges.”
The judge taps his pointer finger on the gavel in front of him, considering her and the new information.
“I’m sorry,” I hear Angie say in a tight voice. She’s trying to whisper but it’s useless in a room where everyone’s watching her. Her shoulders are hunched and trembling as she pleads with Allie to understand, “I should have told you sooner. I was so ashamed. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
ALLISON
The air is cold for only being October. It doesn’t help that it’s late, dark, and I’m standing in the shadow outside of the jail.
Even with the chill in my bones and the wind whipping around my face, I’m hot. It’s from the anxiety.
I don’t even think I can feel anything really. At least, I wasn’t until the double glass doors open and Dean walks out of them.
My eyes don’t stray from the entrance as he strides forward, looking to his left and right. I don’t recognize the clothes he’s in; they must be new or maybe the lawyer brought them to him so he had clothes to leave in. Dark jeans and a crisp white polo look odd on him as he passes under the streetlight just outside of the doors, but he’s never looked better to me. I’ve never wanted him more.