Page 162 of Swept for Forever
But this time, there was no manufactured sob story big enough to drown the evidence.
The judge called for a recess.
Autumn reached for my hand.
I didn’t even realize I’d been gripping the bench until she peeled my fingers loose.
“What do you think?” she murmured.
I kept my voice even when I said, “Prosecutor’s done his job.”
“You’d have done it differently,” she teased.
“Not my case to try, Otter.”
“Oh, you’re itching.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
She smiled and threaded her fingers through mine.
The jury didn’t take long. When they filed back, the courtroom held its breath.
Allan Spears:Guilty of the murder of Deborah Sinclair.
Deborah’s mother sobbed openly, and her father wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his eyes fixed on the man who’d taken their daughter.
Spears didn’t even look at them. Or at me. Or at Autumn.
But Autumn looked at him.
And though his stiff neck barely turned, I knew he felt it—the weight of what he’d done, the justice he couldn’t outrun.
Deborah’s mother found us.
She hugged Autumn like she’d been waiting her whole life for that embrace.
“She was everything to us,” she whispered. “Lulu knew something was wrong. She kept leading us back to the trail, but we were lost and hopeless to find our Debbie. It was fate the dog found you.”
“Lulu’s a smart girl,” Autumn said.
“She’s yours now,” Deborah’s mom murmured. “Thank you. For everything.”
We stepped out of the courthouse into the open lot, sunlight spilling across the cracked pavement.
Susan was already waiting near the curb, her bag slung over one shoulder.
“Susan Nolan,” I said, shaking her hand. “You killed it in there.”
She cocked a brow. “How’d it feel, sitting on the sidelines?”
“Itsucked.”
“I’ll bet.” She gave a low laugh. “You looked like a trapped badger the whole time.”
I smirked. “The world doesn’t need me anymore. Not in a courtroom, anyway.”
“Pity.” She crossed her arms. “So, what’s next for Dominic Powell? Candle making? Organic beard oil?”
