Page 88 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

I wanted to reach out and grab Dad’s hand, but I refrained. Irrationally terrified that one wrong move would stop where this was headed.

“That said,” the judge continued, “the boy was not found in a street, but rather in an alley, suggesting the boy may have tried to flee from the accident, or his body may have been moved.”

Maybe that’s the guy my father saw all those years ago—the man who’d moved the body.

“Vehicular homicide is something that should be explored further. In light of the fact that the defendant, Mr. Payne, was confirmed to have no vehicle at the time of the incident and was indeed seen on foot shortly before the occurrence of said incident, it has been determined that there is enough doubt as to his involvement, that this case needs to be re-examined.”

As the judge’s words sank in, the brick that had been on my chest since I was a small girl began to lift.

“Justice,” the judge continued, “is not about rigidly adhering to past decisions, but about ensuring that the truth prevails, no matter how late it comes to light. It’s evident that the original trial was incomplete in its assessment and, therefore, the verdict.”

He paused for a moment, letting his gaze sweep over the silent spectators.

“I have carefully reviewed the evidence and arguments presented. While I am not convinced that a dismissal of all charges is warranted at this juncture, I do find sufficient grounds to grant the defendant a new trial.”

My eyes burned with tears of joy. While it wasn’t a complete dismissal of charges, it was damn close.

“After considering the circumstances,” the judge continued, “and in light of the upcoming new trial, I hereby order that the defendant be released on their own recognizance, pending the proceedings. Conditions for release will be set forth by this court, and I expect the defendant to adhere strictly to them.”

Dad’s eyes shimmered, and as he swayed, I grabbed his elbow—both of us on the verge of something we’d dreamed of for decades.

The judge’s gavel came down with a resounding crack, and the words we had waited two decades to hear echoed.

“You are free to go.”

Warmth spilled down my cheeks, each tear a testament to the years of heartache, relief, and disbelief etched on my father’s face. I grabbed my dad and pulled him into a bear hug. Everything else around me seemed to fade away, and the only thing that existed was the relieved whimpers of my dad, his tears brushing against my ear.

“You did it,” he choked. “You actually did it.”

“I told you I would never give up, Dad.”

The minutes that followed became a blur of faces and congratulations. Sean. Detective Rinaldi. Elizabeth Wood, Hunter, Grayson, Rodney, and his daughter, Charlotte, not to mention other well-wishers.

“Sir,” Hunter said, extending his hand, “congratulations. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Hunter, this is my dad, Dad, this is…Hunter.” I almost saidmy boyfriend.The term lodged in my throat, and I swallowed it down, unwilling to let my confusion over Hunter cast a shadow over this victory.

“The media are out front,” Elizabeth said.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Someone might have tipped them off that an innocent man who has served twenty years in prison might get exonerated today.”

My lip quivered. My whole life, I had felt alone, but I wasn’t alone, was I? Faces filled with warmth smiled, hands reached out, squeezing my shoulders, or patting my back. Every gesture whispered,We’re here for you.

“Do you want to give a statement, Dad?”

Dad shook his head. “I’m done trying to win people over. I just want to celebrate with my daughter.”

I smiled.

“What food have you been daydreaming about for the last twenty years?” I asked.

His eyes were still red, though he was doing a better job composing his emotions than I was.

“A rib eye,” he said.

“Then that’s what we’re going to get.”

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