Page 79 of His Virgin Vessel

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Corinne

I remembered, when I was a little kid, seeing how people reacted when my dad walked into a room. You could spot the ones who were up to something, just from the looks on their faces. Nothing put the fear of God into criminals, like Brian Dugas coming for them. I thought I had seen him at his best, but, it turned out, I hadn't seen anything yet. When Sheriff Brian Dugas strode into the appeal hearing that he himself had set up for Asa, everyone turned to look at him, and, when he spoke, the walls came tumbling down. To see Brian Dugas in full flow, fighting passionately for something he believed in, made you wonder why he hadn't been a lawyer all his life, instead of a sheriff. It was a sight to see. There was no one in that room who could doubt that Asa Covert was a man who had fallen into crime following a troubled childhood, that the 'crime' into which he had fallen was petty, relatively harmless, and in some cases actually helpful to the community, that he had been reformed by the love of a woman, that he was done with that world, and that he wanted nothing more now than to be a father to his unborn child. Above all, there was no one in that room who would dare doubt that Asa had been brave above and beyond the call of sanity during the Frank Rassi case, that he had been willing to sacrifice his life to save an innocent woman, and that he had damn near done so.

"Am I biased?" Sheriff Brian Dugas asked the question that everyone was asking. "Of course I am. He is the father of my grandchild and, without him, my daughter would be dead. Without him, Frank Rassi would still be on the street, and I don't know how many others might be dead. Without him, business owners in my town would have been threatened and cowed for years by mobsters and thugs. Am I biased? I am biased in favor of as brave a man as I have ever known, and I am suspicious of anyone who wouldn't be biased towards such an individual. He has misdirected so much of his potential through his life, and now that he has found direction, are we going to see him squander that potential languishing in jail? No, I say! We can use men like Asa Covert. We should use men like Asa Covert. We need men like Asa Covert."

I watched proudly from the sidelines. I knew that my dad couldn't have delivered such an address if he didn't mean every word of it. There was just one last hurdle left to cross, one thing that Dad would have to do that was contrary to everything he believed. I held my breath as the chairman of the appeals committee spoke.

"Sheriff Dugas, you've spoken eloquently in defense of the prisoner and provided a great deal of evidence backing up your words, as well as the testimonials of the SWAT team who took down Frank Rassi. But what about evidence against Mr. Covert? It is my understanding that there was a book detailing serious criminal activity, which can hardly go overlooked. What do you know about this little Black Book?"

Dad never even blinked. "I've heard rumors about it, as one always hears rumors. But what sort of criminal keeps a record like that? I've never met anyone who has verifiably seen this book. It's my opinion that it doesn't even exist."

My heart was fluttering in my chest as I sat outside the prison. It seemed unlikely that anything could go wrong now, but I didn't want to jinx anything by saying that, or even thinking it. A week ago, I would have said that such an outcome was impossible, but that was before I heard dad speak. A local sheriff's demands might not carry a great deal of weight with an independent appeals committee, but the right words delivered by the right man can accomplish almost anything.

# # #

The gate swung open. Dad came out, and, a step behind him, Asa. I held my breath, as if at any second an arm might reach out from the gate and drag him back in. But no arm came.

I couldn't wait any longer. I sprang out of the car and ran to meet Asa, hurling myself into his arms.

"Well, that can't be good for the baby," Dad said, laughing to himself.

"Quiet, Grandpa," I said, my face buried in Asa's neck.

Dad shook his head. "That one's going to take some getting used to."

We headed back to where I had parked, and Dad and Asa shook hands.

"Thank you, Sheriff."

Dad smiled. "I think maybe you can stop calling me that."

"Call him, dad," I suggested.

"I'd rather not," Asa said, honestly. "Bad associations, you know."

"Brian will do fine," said Dad.

Asa looked uncertain. "I sort of feel like I should call you 'sir'. Brian is very..."

"Familiar?" Dad suggested.

"I was going to say 'equal’."

Dad shrugged. "That seems about right, son."

"Thank you," Asa said fervently.

Asa and I got into the car.

"You need a lift?" I asked Dad.

"No. You two could probably use some time alone, and I don't want to intrude. I really don't." He leaned in through the window by Asa. "You'll take good care of her?" It wasn't said sternly. He was really asking.

"I will.”

"I can take care of myself," I pointed out.

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