Prologue #2
“You’re a fucking cop?” his father had screamed at the tall, blonde man—the only one not holding a gun—while grabbing hold of DaShaun and putting him in a stranglehold.
“You set me up,” he had growled into DaShaun’s ear, while he’d nearly peed in his pants when the cold barrel of a gun pressed into his temple.
“No, Daddy, I…ach.” The rest of his words had been cut off—along with his ability to breathe—as the arm around his neck had tightened. And no matter how hard he had pushed at the rock-hard arm or struggled, nothing could get him loose.
“Shut your lyin’, bitch-ass mouth.”
DaShaun’s eyes had pooled as he’d stared into the detective’s determined gaze—his thoughts on his sister and what would happen to her if he died. And because he couldn’t speak, he’d begged the detective the only way he could. With his eyes.
And while he did, something in those dark brown depths had changed the longer he’d held his gaze. Like he’d come to a decision—that he’d cared—before a blaze of anger had filled the man’s eyes and his face had hardened.
Whatever happened in the next seconds, this man was ready to protect him. Just knowing that, it had stirred something in DaShaun’s spirit, calming him, as the detective had lifted his narrowing gaze toward his father.
“You don’t want to do this,” the detective had said, his voice commanding as he’d stepped closer, while movement in his side vision showed the other officers closing in on them. “This is your son. Let me have him.” He’d held out his hand. “You don’t want to hurt him.”
“You don’t know what the fuck I want.”
His father hadn’t lied. Detective Goddard had had no idea his father could have cared less if DaShaun lived or died. That point had been proven when the loud metallic click of the gun’s hammer being pulled back had eclipsed every other sound.
DaShaun had closed his eyes, knowing he was about to die. He’d just prayed Kianna would be okay. That maybe this detective would save her.
“Stop,” Detective Goddard had yelled as a hard body had slammed into him and his father.
Then DaShaun had found himself free and falling to the ground, followed seconds later by a gun going off.
More deafening gunfire had followed as DaShaun covered his ears and curled up into a ball on the cold, hard, asphalt.
And then there was no sound. Except for his own harsh breathing.
DaShaun forced his eyes open to the courtroom. When had he even closed them? He glanced at his attorney, who hadn’t stopped speaking, but was looking at him like something concerned him. Had he made a sound? Maybe.
DaShaun breathed slowly, trying to calm how his chest heaved, while mentally running away from the memory he never seemed to completely escape. How could he, when it was a nightmare he relived every night?
“Your Honor…” Mr. Conwell let go of his shoulder, leaned over the table, and dug his fists into the top. “Should we disregard the last act of this heroic, selfless man by ruining the life he gave his own to save?”
“Your Honor.” Mr. James slammed his hands on his table and nearly knocked his chair over when he basically jumped to his feet. “This is completely inapp?—”
“Your Honor?” A clear, husky, feminine voice interrupted Mr. James. “May I speak?” Her words, though few, held an emotion that struck DaShaun straight through the heart, and it could have only come from one person.
Detective Goddard’s fiancée.
Mercy Carter.
He still hadn’t been able to look at her for any span of time. Gazing at her would have been a privilege. One that he shouldn’t have. Not when Ryan Goddard could no longer lay eyes on the beautiful woman with sad, deep blue eyes and long, black hair.
He shot a side glance her way and let out a low breath as his attorney stood. At the last of one of his preliminary hearings, she’d been really pregnant. But not anymore. Guilt hit him hard. Her baby didn’t have a father.
“Your Honor?—”
“This is a bench trial, Mr. Conwell, and it’s at my discretion who will speak.” His own attorney grimaced at that statement and sat hard in his seat. That had to be a bad sign.
“What are you doing?”
DaShaun hazarded a glance toward the harsh male voice, to see a ginormous man in a Marine uniform who looked a lot like Ms. Carter.
A brother, maybe? He had leaned toward her from across the older couple sitting between them.
They had to be her parents. Then a shiver raced up DaShaun’s spine when the man’s stone-cold, blue eyes flashed toward him—skewering him with pure hate—before going back to Ms. Carter.
“What I have to,” she said, wiping at her face, while standing.
DaShaun couldn’t face her tears, so he stared down at his skinny wrists, visible where the suit coat arms weren’t long enough to cover them, resting on the table.
But the view had begun to blur. He had no right to cry. But he couldn’t help it.
“Thank you, Your Honor.” He tensed, afraid of what she was about to say. “I had Ryan’s daughter six months ago.” Her words choked slightly and he felt a thickness in his throat, as his lips trembled. Like he was about to choke too. “Her name is Kara.”
I’ve ruined their lives.
His eyes filled even more, and he hung his head and sniffled. Whatever she had to say, he had it coming.
“As a defense attorney myself, I’ve sat here the last two days and listened to testimony and wondered how I would have represented Mr. Booker.
” Her voice had grown stronger with each word.
While the silence in the room as she spoke was almost scary.
“And how I would have felt defending him. We’re all human.
And like Mr. Conwell, defending people who are more than likely guilty isn’t always easy.
” A slight huff left her. “But we do our jobs.”
Silence…
DaShaun’s low, shuddering breath came out way too loud and he held his breath, before slowly letting it out.
“This past year,” she finally said into the quiet, “I looked at Mr. Booker as one of those defendants. It was a certainty I knew in every fiber of my being when I stepped into this courtroom.” DaShaun scrubbed his wet face on his coat sleeve and held in a sob.
“Nothing mattered to me except the fact he was there. In my mind…” Her deep breath sounded.
“In my grief, he was as much a part of that drug deal as his father. Willingly or not.”
Here it comes…
DaShaun closed his eyes, waiting for her to ask the judge to throw all the books at him.
“But the more I’ve listened to testimony and what this young man faced, the more I’ve been swayed in the other direction.”
A low, “I don’t believe it,” sounded from beside him, while a clearly shocked, “Mercy,” came from the same man as before.
“Especially Kianna Booker’s,” Ms. Carter continued, not responding to the man.
“She was terrified sitting up there yesterday. But I don’t believe it matched the terror she felt from her father.
It was there in her every word. In her trembling voice and the tension in her body when she shared a story I can’t imagine living through. ”
He still couldn’t look at her, but her voice had softened. Like maybe she could forgive him. If she could do that, no matter what else happened, he would drop to his knees in front of her.
“The only time that fear went away was when she looked toward her brother.” The weight of her stare burned against the back of his head. “She trusts him. She loves him.”
“Mercy?” another feminine voice said. “You can’t be?—”
“Yes, Mom,” she said low. “I can.” She cleared her throat. “Your Honor, you have a decision to make, and whatever it is, I know it will be fair. Just. But right now, standing here, I can’t in good conscience say that DaShaun Booker is guilty.”
DaShaun’s heart lurched, while a slight feminine gasp sounded, along with a man’s “She’s your daughter,” could be heard among murmuring from the crowd, which was quickly followed by a low, gravely, “I don’t fucking believe it.”
A loud bang sounded, silencing the room, while DaShaun jumped in his seat and his gaze flashed toward the judge. The narrow-eyed man had his gavel in his hand, shaking it toward where the Carter family sat—he still didn’t have the nerve to look their way.
“Chief Warrant Officer Carter…” From the stern expression on the judge’s face and the way he leaned forward and pointed his gavel at him, he was serious. “I won’t have that language in my court.”
“Of course, sir.” So, yeah, the big Marine was probably her brother. “I’m sorry, sir.”
The judge relaxed back into his seat.
“Ms. Carter, do you have anything more to say?”
“Only one more thing…” Another tension-filled pause followed.
“My parents, my brother, and I, we were Ryan’s only family.
We loved him. I…” Her low, almost guttural sob shredded his soul.
“I loved him. And I knew him as well as I know myself. So, please do the right thing. Ryan…” She cleared her throat—twice. “Ryan would have wanted it.”
As his grandmother used to say, after Mercy Carter had spoken, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. If she was that brave, he could be too.
“Judge Schrimsher…” DaShaun stood, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like to say something.”
“DaShaun,” his attorney said, grabbing his arm. “We’ve?—”
“Let him speak,” Judge Schrimsher said.
DaShaun blew out a slow breath to shore up his courage, while Mr. Conwell let go of him.
“Saying sorry won’t bring Detective Goddard back. I wish that it could. But...” He barely flashed his eyes toward the Carter family, then cast his gaze back down. “I’d like to tell you about those last few seconds.”
A muffled sob sounded.
Mercy Carter.