Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Colton gave Riley another nudge with his elbow, and her eyes snapped open.
She threw him an embarrassed grin and turned her attention back to the preacher.
Apparently, she’d had as little sleep as he had after their chat into the wee hours.
The scene at her house that afternoon had probably kept her awake, but he’d lain in the dark thinking about what she said.
Theresa’s living every day whole and healthy with the God she loves.
Lying in bed, picturing Theresa healthy—her lush hair falling around her shoulders, the brightness in her blue eyes, her full-throated laughter—had brought peace to that place in his heart where she still remained.
That place he’d held closed and protected these last four years, where the hurt festered and burned.
Before Riley painted a new image for him. An image of Theresa returned to the joyful soul she’d always been.
He’d blamed God for taking her, but she’d been in such pain, so sick.
A mere shell of the woman she’d once been by the time she went …
home. Maybe in the grip of his grief, he’d perceived it all wrong.
Maybe God had been acting out of mercy and grace, not cruelty or to punish him for some unknown wrong he’d committed.
He’d been gifted with ten years of marriage to her, and, even with all the ups and downs, he wouldn’t trade that time for anything. Even knowing how it ended.
Unlike last Sunday, sitting here in this pew with Riley and her family, this week he’d tuned into the pastor’s message while keeping watch over the crowd.
And something inside of him, deep down, stirred as if waking from a deep sleep.
Riley must have noticed him glancing at her Bible because she slipped it over to rest partially on his leg.
As he followed along with the reading, the words jumped off the page.
I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning.
His father had read this passage from Lamentations at the funeral.
But Colton had been closed off, so angry, and in so much pain, he hadn’t heard, hadn’t comprehended, what his father had tried to convey.
That God was still there. That God wasn’t punishing him.
That God had shown His mercy by healing Theresa on the other side of this life.
Was he ready now to let go? To let God back in? Could he trust without question?
As Pastor Troy began his ending prayer, Riley pulled the Bible back and closed it before reaching for her handbag. Their eyes met, and he took her hand to lead her out of the sanctuary to the waiting SUV.
“Thanks for keeping me awake in church.” She stifled a yawn as she buckled her seatbelt. “Three hours of sleep doesn’t cut it.”
“Three hours? Did you work all night?”
She shrugged. “Most of it, I guess.”
“Because of what happened at your house?”
“No. Maybe.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Just a lot to do. A lot on my mind.”
“If you need anything—”
“I know. And I appreciate it. I need to work some stuff out on my own, but I’ll let you know if there’s anything.”
He nodded and faced front again, catching Paul’s concerned glance in the rearview mirror. His co-workers didn’t need to know about their middle-of-the-night chat. That he’d shared things with her, confided in her, in ways he hadn’t with anybody since Theresa.
He’d crossed a line and wasn’t sure how to get back. Or if he even wanted to. He enjoyed this newfound friendship with Riley, while at the same time warned himself not to get so close he couldn’t be of the best use to her.
After Sunday lunch with the Hudson family, she let them go, assuring them she would be home for the duration, and then retreated to her rooms upstairs.
He took advantage of the quiet afternoon to call his parents before giving in to a much-needed nap, followed by laps in the indoor pool and a long, hot shower.
Living for the time being at the Hudson estate was akin to a vacation at a luxury resort.
He’d just put six strips of bacon in a skillet for a triple-decker club sandwich when she ambled into the kitchen.
“Bacon.” Her tired eyes lit up. “You’re making bacon?”
“I am. Want some?”
“Yes, please. I never pass up bacon.”
He pulled six more slices from the package. “What do you want? Breakfast for dinner, BLT?”
She pulled herself up on a stool in front of the island and yawned before bracing her elbow on the counter and sticking her chin in her hand. “What’re you having?”
“Club sandwich.”
“Can I have one of those?”
“You got it.”
“Need any help?”
“Nope. Sit there and take a power nap.”
“I can’t sleep sitting up.”
He glanced at her perched on the stool with her eyes closed, her hair up in a haphazard bun, dressed again in sweats and white socks. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Her eyes popped open. “I’m not sleeping.”
He guessed there was more truth there than she meant to confide.
Bacon sizzled in the skillet while he went to work cutting up lettuce, tomato, and onion, and plopped six pieces of sourdough bread into the toaster. “Get a lot done? It’s after eight, and you haven’t been down since lunch.”
“I did. Still more to do, but isn’t there always?”
After pulling the bacon from the pan, he let it sit on a paper towel while he assembled the first layer—ham, turkey, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and red onion on sourdough toast slathered with mayonnaise.
He stuck three pieces of bacon on top of each stack, set another slice of sourdough on top, and repeated the layers, topping it all off with the last piece of toast.
He cut each sandwich into quarters, shook potato chips out of a bag onto each plate, and slid one toward her. “Your sandwich, madam.”
Sitting up, she stared down at her plate. “Sandwich? More like a work of art.”
After grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, he joined her at the island, sitting at an angle to her.
“Mmm. So good.”
That was all the compliment he needed, and he grinned at the dollop of mayonnaise at the corner of her mouth.
“What? Got it on me, didn’t I?”
“A little.” He pointed to the corner of his mouth. “Right here.”
She licked it away and went in for another bite. “Red onion. I’ve never had onion on a club sandwich before. You’ve spoiled me for all other club sandwiches on the planet.”
“Wow. High praise.” He took a bite of his own and had to admit it hit the spot.
He finished half of his before gulping down some water. “Tell me how you got into the criminal defense biz.”
She chewed and swallowed. “Wasn’t the original plan. At Harvard, I’d planned to go into corporate law. Not necessarily to work at the company, but because it interested me. The setting up of corporations and so on.”
“What made you change course?”
She finished the first quarter of her sandwich and picked up another. “Do you remember the man with Barbara at the Cantrells’?”
His brain scanned back through the evening at the Senator’s home. “Tall, dark hair, glasses?”
She nodded. “Her brother, Tommy. About six years older than we are. While we were in college, his wife was murdered, and he was subsequently arrested and convicted for it. Barbara was a mess through that whole thing. Not only had she lost someone she loved, and violently, but she steadfastly believed his claims of innocence. But you know they always suspect the significant other first, and, unfortunately, if they can get the pieces to fit, many times they quit looking.”
“Like you believe happened with Shane Everett.” He picked up some chips and popped them in his mouth.
“Exactly. By the time I got to law school, Tommy had been inside for a year, still adamant he didn’t do it.
I took a criminal defense class my second year, and when we got to the appeals process, I was hooked.
I thought about all of Tommy’s appeals and was astonished he couldn’t get somebody to champion him.
And my career was born. I knew before I ever graduated he’d be my first pro bono case. ”
“Successful, apparently, since he’s out.”
“It was. But I was so scared that if I couldn’t help him, nobody ever would.
The stress and exhaustion from that case put me in the hospital for two days.
A rough way to learn to manage my time better.
It’s hard, because when I believe someone is sitting behind bars and shouldn’t be, I want to get them out as fast as I can.
“But Tommy almost paid the price for me overworking myself, since I literally collapsed two weeks before our appeals court appearance. Now I make sure to take some time on weekends or evenings, work with my charities, or spend time with my friends or family. It’s better for my clients, too, because I’m able to give the best of myself to their case. ”
“Did you find who did it?”
“Their neighbor. He was obsessed with her, had made several unwanted advances, would leave her gifts. He testified at the trial they’d been having an affair and Tommy killed her in a jealous rage.
Everybody who knew them thought that was crazy.
Tommy was the nicest guy, and she was wild about him.
Very strong Christians. During a search of the house, the police discovered an application for a restraining order Tommy's wife had filled out against the neighbor, and we found it buried in the file from the DA’s office.
Evidence never provided to the defense, which got us a ruling of prosecutorial misconduct and Tommy a new trial. ”
“Prosecutorial misconduct is serious.”
“I definitely got crosswise with the District Attorney who was in office at the time. Defense attorneys aren’t their favorite people, anyway, especially doing what I do. But proving something that brought sanctions didn’t bode well for my relationship with the DA’s office.”
“I can imagine.”
“Anyway, to prepare for trial, I hired a pathology expert, and she noticed a strange wound in the autopsy photos. We exhumed the body, and she found a bite mark the coroner had passed off as a bruise. We took a set of impressions from Tommy and requested a court order for a set from the neighbor. Even the State’s expert agreed there was no doubt who it belonged to.
The fact that it could have only been administered at the time of death was the clincher. ”
“Wow. What’s Tommy doing now?”
“Went back to prison. He’s actually the chaplain where Shane is. I gave him Shane’s info, and he’s been able to spend some time with him. Shane’s also been going to the Sunday service. Anything to give him hope until I can get him out of there.”
“You sound confident.”
“I have to be. The idea of somebody rotting away for someone else’s crime is almost more than I can bear.”
He rubbed his fingers along the stubble on his chin, still not as certain as she seemed to be.
But her earnest conviction was hard to discount.
“Petersen has an investigative arm that works jointly with law enforcement and attorneys. We’ve worked with both defense and prosecution and provided expert testimony at trial.
If we can help you with anything, let me know. ”
“Seriously?
“Seriously. If Everett truly is innocent, he needs to be free. Sounds like the best way to prove that is to find the true killer.”
She nodded, but her eyes clouded. “I can’t help but wonder if we’ve already seen him.”