If We Dare to Dream (16 page)

“Thanks for the offer, George, but I think I’ll pass. I just woke up.”

His voice deepened. “Long day, huh?”

“Definitely,” she replied with a heavy sigh.

“Well, I’m right here if you change your mind. I’ll be here all night as well, so if you find yourself up and pacing after your little power nap come on over.”

The husky tone to his voice made her slightly uncomfortable. There was no way she was going over tonight of all nights. “Thanks George.”

“Anytime… If I don’t see you tonight I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”

She grimaced into the empty bedroom. “All right then.”

He signed off with a cheerful goodbye, and Jamie set the phone aside. Her eyes drifted closed again. It was a waiting game from here on out, and she wondered if she could handle the strain. Remembering those intense pale eyes, Jamie wondered how Andrew felt. If it was hard on her, she could only imagine how hard it was for him.

***

Andrew lay awake in his bunk, staring at the ceiling as he had done so many times before. He could hear Smack’s nasally snore below him, a sound he had grown very accustomed to. It was almost as normal as the regularity of his breathing. However, after today’s proceedings, for the first time in a long time he had begun to wonder just how much longer he would be sleeping in the same close quarters as the kid.

Though he claimed that he had no dreams of ever being set free, Andrew had concluded that it was human nature to attempt to see something positive out of a negative. He knew it would be a severe blow if he ended up being wrong again, but after watching Jamie Morton on the stand he finally allowed the first glimmer of hope to return to his otherwise jaded existence. Not only had Jamie conducted herself in an honest and composed manner, she had given her testimony in an almost verbatim account to his from five years ago. She remembered everything almost as clearly as he did, and that in itself was gratifying. Even the judge seemed distracted after their lunch break, as though he wondered why they were even there when the facts were proving that his was a case of mistaken identity.

Bell’s team so far had not proven beyond a reasonable doubt that he was behind Kit’s murder – not in the least. Darren had spoken to Andrew after the day’s proceedings, advising him that he was going to recall those witnesses who had identified him again. He wanted them to admit to the jury that the woman he was seen leaving with was Jamie Morton. Now that the jury had seen her as well, they had no choice but to admit the case of mistaken identity. Those witnesses would go from prosecutor’s death knell to defendant’s last chance for victory.

 Not usually a praying man, Andrew thanked God for bringing Jamie back to Phoenix.

Back to him.

She no longer wore a ring on her left hand. He had noticed that as soon as her hands had left the safety of her lap when she spoke. Though he did not know anything for certain, he suspected that something had happened with the man that had brought her so much joy those years ago. Perhaps that was why she had returned to the Valley.

Don’t even think it, he warned his over-eager imagination.

But he was only human, and Jamie Morton was the last beautiful woman he had encountered before being locked away. Of course he had fantasized about her return, her telling the truth… and her more feminine charms. Though he never really expected it to happen in real-life, look at where he was now.

Just like the memory of her face had done following his dreams, the tightness in his chest had eased as soon as she had stepped down from the stand. She had done it – come forward and verified everything he reported. Though accused of being a murderer and a liar, she had vindicated him on the stand today. For that he was eternally grateful. He could be found guilty again and live with the knowledge that Jamie had tried. She had stepped forward when no one else would. She had believed in him when even he no longer did. Most importantly, she had cared. She cared enough to make a statement and put her life on hold in order to fight for his. The woman was an angel, just as he had suspected that night when he saw her for the first time.

“Hey, are you awake?”

So lost in his own thoughts, Andrew had not noticed that Smack’s snoring had ceased, and surprisingly the idea of holding a conversation did not bother him at that moment. “Yeah.”

“Did she show?”

“Yeah,” he said softly.

“Did she talk?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to get out, aren’t you?”

Andrew wanted to snap at Smack for insinuating such a hopeless dream, but he could hear the unspoken fear in the kid’s voice. Suddenly it occurred to him that while Smack was happy for him and had a new level of respect for his story, he would also be the one who would suffer the most if he did get out. Andrew had spent time taking the kid under his wing, protecting him from the gangs and politics outside of their cell. When he left, the impressionable young man would be on his own.

“Nothing’s done yet, Smack.”

“But it’s going to happen. As soon as the trial finishes and the jury finds you not guilty they’ll release you. You only have a few more days here.”

“If they find me not guilty.”

“How can they not?”

Andrew leaned over the side of the bunk and scowled down at Smack. “How could they have before? Everything is an unknown, and I’d rather not consider freedom until I hear the words from the judge and jury.”

Smack’s face shone in the dull light creeping in from small window. His eyes were wide with unspoken fear and remorse for irritating Andrew. “You’re right. People suck. Most of ‘em are too dumb to even be on a jury.”

“Thanks.” Rolling back over, Andrew once again propped his head on his folded arms. “Go back to sleep. We have nothing to worry about for now. When and
if
, and I mean if, the time comes, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Only if you promise me you’ll keep doing your classes and get on the ball of trying to better yourself, so when
you
get out of here you have a chance.”

Smack chuckled. “Sure thing.”

Andrew snorted. “I’m not joking, kid. I’ll be keeping an eye on you the whole time.”

“I bet you will.”

“I have my ways.”

“I wish you’d been my dad,” was Smack’s earnest reply.

Though Andrew was not nearly old enough to be Smack’s father, they had grown fairly close in the years spent in the cell together. He closed his eyes and did not answer, knowing that if he did his voice might shake. Despite Smack’s hero worship of him, Andrew knew better. He was not fit to be anyone’s dad, no matter what this lost kid thought.

Chapter 8

It took three days for the jury to decide.

Three days of nail biting and pacing. Three days of torturous thoughts and nightmares of negative responses. Three days of prayers, even though he had long given up on praying.

Despite the ease in his anxiety when he saw Jamie Morton again, it was short lived. The tightness in his chest returned with a vengeance as soon as closing statements were complete and the judge handed down his final directions to the jurors. He had watched on, noticing how two or three of them had glanced his way. Too afraid to dream that was a good sign, he waited with bated breath and restrained frustration that this trial would come to a speedy end.

Every minute was torture. He had to wait for three long days.

Luckily Smack kept his distance out of fear of Andrew’s reaction. In fact, nearly everyone on his block stayed away. Even the corrections officers took some sympathy on him. Because of the rarity of a retrial, the local media had picked up his story and made him into some type of prison folk hero. Almost everyone followed the trial in any manner that they could, and it seemed as though everyone was on edge waiting for the announcement to be made.

But still he had to wait.

On the morning of the third day, a call to review Jamie’s testimony came down. Then there was a request to review the closed circuit camera footage from the night. Hours passed and still nothing.

Just when he thought he had reached his snapping point, the word came down. Everyone was called back to the courtroom to hear the reading. The courthouse itself was busier than normal, with onlookers and media personnel filling up the hallway and waiting in breathless anticipation. Their presence irritated Andrew, for the hypocrisy seemed almost unbearable after his years of isolation. From his seat in the front of the room, Andrew could hear the commotion outside, and it did little to soothe his nerves for he knew that if he was again found guilty they would condemn him once more.

He refused to turn to see who was there, refused to look at any of the faces within his line of sight. Kit’s family was present again, as was his loyal grandmother. Though he had asked her to stay away rather than risk having her heart broken once again, she had remained firm.

“A united front,” she said. “Your brother may not be here, but we’re still your family, Andrew.”

He did not know if he could bear the shame of having his grandmother watch him be convicted a second time around, but he held his tongue. More than anything, he wished he could hear this verdict alone, but that was not possible. He had no rights.

They stood as everyone filed in. The judge took his seat and turned to the jurors. Over the rushing in his ears, Andrew heard him ask if they had reached their verdict. Sucking in a deep, painful breath, Andrew stared down at the pad of paper before him, too afraid to look up even though he knew he should. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that he thought he would faint, and it was difficult to breathe. Wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks, Andrew waited.

Please don’t let my anxiety hit, he thought frantically.

“We have, Your Honor.”

“Would you state for the record how you find the defendant?”

Andrew’s eyes closed for a moment before he raised his head and turned his attention to the foreman. The middle-aged lady with the wide-rimmed glasses looked at him with a small smile before glancing down at the paper in her hand.

She cleared her throat. “We, the Jury, duly empanelled and sworn in the above entitled action, upon our oaths do find the defendant, Andrew Edward Sheehan, not guilty as charged to first degree murder as to Count I of the indictment and not guilty as charged in sexual assault in the first degree as to Count II of the indictment. Each of us has concurred and signed below our signatures on this statement.”

She continued to read the remaining five charges, but Andrew could barely hear her words. Not guilty, not guilty,
not guilty
! The words rung in his ears like the sweet music of a chorus. Behind him, there were cheers and loud gasps of excitement followed by several sharp cries. Who these supporters were, he did not know. Only one thought was certain -

He was a free man.

He was a
goddamn
free man.

It was over.

He had his life back.

Struggling with all his strength to maintain his normally stoic countenance for fear of revealing his true emotions, he turned to Darren to confirm those precious words. His lawyer was beaming from ear to ear, clasping his co-counsel on the shoulder before turning to Andrew. The lawyer had tears in his eyes, and he gripped Andrew’s clammy hand tightly as he waited for the proceedings to finish.

“I told you not to give up,” Darren cried with a joyous laugh.

Andrew reached for Darren and hugged the man that had worked so hard for him. He hugged him with all the strength he had left in his rubbery bones, leaning a little too much as his legs buckled. “You sure as hell did,” he whispered.

The judge was thanking the jury for their service and releasing them to go home when Andrew was once more able to get his legs back under him. He nodded his thanks at the men and women who had seen beyond their prejudice and fear to listen to the facts and determine that he had been telling the truth all along, and several nodded back. His heart felt so raw at that moment that he was not sure if he would cry or shout aloud his joy. He had never felt so liberated.

He was a free man, and it was all due to Jamie Morton. Glancing behind him excitedly, he craned to find the top of her mahogany head, hoping to spot her in the crowd. Eyes frantically scanning the room, he was gripped with disappointment when he could not find her in the jumbled mass of nosy onlookers. Telling himself he should not have expected her to come, he still could not deny that he had yearned to see her there when they announced his triumph – their triumph.

His joy dampened, he turned back around and bit back his regret. There was much to do, and he still had not been released by the judge. Pay attention, he warned himself firmly. Keep it together. Hold on.

But by God, he had his life back!

***

Despite the warnings that had gone off in her head, Jamie had found it impossible to stay away from the courtroom. Fearing her presence was unwelcome, especially during such a highly charged time, she managed to avoid the courts until the evening news announced that jury deliberations had begun. From then on she was on tenterhooks, waiting as nervously as everyone else for the final decision.