EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EPILOGUE
Dear Reader
“There she is!”
“Melanie, can you give us a statement? How does it feel to be released? Do you still claim to be innocent?”
“She’s a murderer! She should still be rotting in jail!” Prying questions, angry jeers and insults assailed Melanie’s ears. She kept her head turned away from the mob standing behind the police officers stationed near the road. She had hoped the combination of the brisk March wind and the early hour would keep the vultures away. No such luck. Her heel slipped on a patch of black ice left over from winter. The ghost of a malicious chuckle reached her ear. She steadied herself, trembling.
A rock sailed through the air. It struck her pale cheek. She could feel blood well and drip down her face. She refused to brush it away, to allow them the satisfaction of seeing that she was hurt.
Wow. She was being stoned in public and no one seemed to care. If anything, the sight of her blood seemed to inflame them. The shouts grew louder, and someone started chanting, “Murderer! Murderer!” The crowd picked up the chant. It sent ice down Melanie’s spine.
A muscled arm shot in front of her face, deflecting a second rock. The owner of the arm placed a strong hand on her shoulder. Not in comfort, but in an attempt to keep her moving. She didn’t acknowledge him. She already knew that Lieutenant Jace Tucker agreed with the crowd.
“Officers, control those people!” he barked into the radio fastened to his shoulder.
Mel shuddered as Lieutenant Tucker’s harsh voice washed over her.
Without warning, a swarm of hungry reporters closed in on her, threatening to swallow her whole. She ducked her head to avoid the cameras flashing around her. The cacophony of voices surrounding her was deafening, one voice melting into the next. At least the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing allowed her to hide part of her face. Hopefully, her bleeding cheek wouldn’t make the evening news.
“Melanie, Senator Travis was quoted yesterday as saying you should have served more time for the death of Sylvie Walters. Any comment? Have you talked to his son, your fiancé?”
Ex-fiancé.
Not for the first time, Melanie struggled against bitterness toward the senator, who had used her court case as his own political platform to be harsh on crime. It wouldn’t surprise her to find out he was responsible for this mob.
Melanie kept her face blank, but her chest tightened. One trembling hand slipped into her jeans pocket and closed around her inhaler. Please Lord, let me make it to the car.
One intrepid soul darted past her police escort and thrust a microphone into Mel’s startled face. “Come on, Melanie. You were in prison for almost four years after being convicted of manslaughter. Surely there’s something you’d like to say. A message for Sylvie’s family, maybe?”
The callous remark slammed into her, robbing her of her breath.
“No comment, people. Give us room.”
Against her will, Melanie glanced to her left to take in the man walking beside her. Lieutenant Tucker met her eyes briefly, his own as hard as flint, his face an inscrutable mask.
Why was he here? Couldn’t they have found someone else for this duty—someone who wouldn’t look at her with such clear disdain? Her knees trembled as he moved beside her. She resisted the urge to step away from him. Jerking her eyes forward, she strove to act as though he weren’t there. But his image had been seared into her mind.
Strong. Determined. A man of faith. And the man who had personally slapped handcuffs on her and coldly recited her Miranda rights. And now she had to sedately walk by his side as if her heart weren’t pounding and her insides quaking. Pull yourself together, Mel, she ordered herself sternly. All you have to do is make it to Aunt Sarah’s house. Then you never have to set eyes on his odious face again. Okay, so maybe odious was a bit too strong a word. Still, she didn’t think she would be too upset when he was out of her life for good.
She flicked a nervous glance at the stony-faced man beside her, shivering at the utter coldness in his deep blue eyes. His short blond hair was the color of wheat ripe for the harvest. His strong jaw was clenched as he walked by her side, emphasizing the distaste he felt for this assignment.
Well, that was too bad. She straightened her shoulders. Directly ahead, she could see the police cruiser waiting. All she needed to do was get through the gauntlet of reporters and angry protestors.
One of the protestors suddenly thrust himself forward. He planted himself in her way, ignoring the fierce scowl on Lieutenant Tucker’s face. Stabbing a threatening finger at her, the demonstrator leaned in until he was almost touching her. Anger spilled from his eyes. His pungent breath fanned her face. Mel stumbled back. Only the Lieutenant’s iron grip on her arm kept her from falling. As soon as she had her balance, he released her. Fast. As if just touching her would contaminate him. Humiliated, she tried to walk around the man in front of her.
“You think you’ll get away with this, don’t you? Like father, like daughter.” He sneered. “That poor girl’s dead, and you go free after just a few measly years inside. But you’ll never be free. We’re watching you. We won’t forget. You will pay the way you deserve, one way or another.”
Melanie’s stomach turned at the mention of her father and at the menace in the man’s tone.
“Move along, mister, or you’ll find yourself arrested for threatening her,” Lieutenant Tucker ordered.
Not that he disagrees, Mel thought. Oh, she doubted the Lieutenant was the type to resort to vigilante justice, but it was clear he thought prison was exactly where she belonged. Despair welled up inside her. She clamped down on her emotions. No way was she going to show any hint of vulnerability. Not in front of these vultures. Her face a stoic mask, she let herself into the passenger’s side of the police cruiser. Her hands gripped together in her lap as she waited for Lieutenant Tucker to join her.
He slammed the driver’s side door and started the car, muttering to himself. She waited until he had driven away from the crowd before taking her inhaler out and using it. She almost cried with relief as her inflamed air passages opened, allowing her
