Page 111 of Secrets Along the Shore
CHAPTER
TWO
“I can’t believe it!Three counts of capital murder!” Tasha hugs my neck, then pulls back, her cool professionalism abandoned now that we’ve retreated to the offices of the district attorney on the fourth floor of the courthouse. From the looks of it, everyone employed in every office of the courthouse—D.A., Clerk of Court, Probate, bailiffs—have come to celebrate the win.
“I know,” I say, and hug her again before finally stepping away. “I couldn’t tell from their expressions. They were so flat and…for a minute there…”
“You and everyone in this office,” interrupts Keel Evers, the other Mitchell County ADA. He wasn’t at the table in the courtroom, but he was just as involved behind the scenes as the rest of us. Tasha, Keel, and I spent many late nights poring over the evidence together, sleep-deprived and running on fumes. His blue eyes are bright with victory, echoed in his ear-to-ear grin.
Keel hands me a champagne flute.
“I can’t stay,” I say, actually disappointed that I can’t. “It’s already four o’clock and I have somewhere to be soon.”
“Oh, come on. I’ve got a date too,” Keel says, pushing the flute at me.
“You’ve always got a date,” Tasha says, rolling her eyes.
“My appointment is business, not a date,” I tell them.
“Look, it’s just ginger ale,” Keel assures me, running a hand through his short, spiky auburn hair. “We’re still on the clock for another hour.”
A couple of minutes can’t hurt. “Okay, you win,” I say, taking the flute. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” they echo, and we clink our glasses together. We all take a sip, then stand there, grinning stupidly at each other because we don’t know what else to do.
It’s finally over.
“Sophie.” The voice comes from behind me, and I turn to see District Attorney March approaching from his private office, his outstretched hand large enough to grasp three of mine.
We shake as he towers over me, and though I’d like to remain guardedly pleased, I can’t help but smile. “Sir.”
“I can’t thank you enough for your excellent work. I know it was a long time coming, but in the end, you got us there.”
“Teresa Anders got us there.”
“Mmm. You’re right about that,” he says, his deep voice taking on a somber note.
“How are the families?” I ask. When the verdict was announced, their reactions ranged from weeping to utter silence and bowed heads.
March tips his head toward the elevator. “Gathered them in the conference room downstairs. They’re…coping. Grateful for the verdict, but starting to realize it doesn’t bring the peace they were hoping for.”
I know that truth all too well. I learned it the hard way.
“They’re anxious for the sentencing phase to begin,” March continues, “to see if Fogerty gets the death penalty.”
Keel raises his glass in a mock toast. “If anyone should…”
“We’ll see on Monday,” March says. The sentencing phase begins next week, allowing both sides to prep over the weekend. March gives my shoulder a job-well-done pat. “I need to go speak to someone, if you’ll excuse me. Excellent job, Tasha. Keel,” he says, nodding at them in turn, then crossing to the other side of the room.
They both look at me, their eyebrows shooting toward the ceiling. “Were those compliments?” Tasha asks.
“Couldn’t be,” Keel says, smirking.
“I think they were,” I say, knowing how rare compliments from March are.
“Guess it’s a day for miracles,” Tasha says.
“Thank God,” I echo, and mean it literally.
