four months later

The incessant ringing of my phone woke me up too early.

"Ugh," I grumbled, rolling over and grabbing it from the nightstand. I squinted to see who was calling.

1 (850) 233-5000.

A Panama City Beach phone number. I slid to answer without pause, sitting up and wiping the sleep from my eyes. 

"Hi, this is Charlotte Emerson."

"Mrs. Emerson, hello. It's Detective Davidson from the Panama City Police Department. How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you," I answered, putting my hand on my belly, which was considerably bigger now that I was going on six months pregnant.

"Excellent," he said. He cleared his throat and continued. "Well, I'm calling with some good news. Liam Covington's murder trial will begin in two weeks. I will need you to come down and testify, considering you are the sole eyewitness for the prosecution. Your Uncle Jeff has already been subpoenaed as well. Can you be here next week? That way you can meet the DA and get prepared for the process."

"I—uh, yes, of course. Andrew can come, right?" I asked, chewing my lip.

"Of course he can. We will provide you with accommodations while you're here, and hopefully this trial will be pretty open-and-shut."

"Okay. Has he confessed?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

"No ma'am. He has been a rather volatile inmate—frequent violent outbursts, emotional meltdowns, refusal to follow rules. But we hope that a confession will come sooner rather than later."

"All right, Detective. We will be there this coming Monday morning, and we'll meet you as soon as we get settled in. Will that be okay?"

"Yes, Mrs. Emerson. That will be perfect. Thank you for your cooperation in this matter."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

With that, we hung up. My stomach was full of little coils of anticipation—the thought of seeing Liam pay for what he had done filled me with joy. Joy that almost trumped the onslaught of fear that crept in—the fear of once more seeing those evil green eyes.

A week later, as we walked up the sidewalk to the Bay County Courthouse, I stopped, like my feet were glued to the concrete. We'd met DA Murphy, and she assured us that this case would be an easy win. That didn't calm my nerves, though; the thought of seeing Liam was horrifying.

The next morning, the four of us entered the courtroom, flanked by DA Murphy. She had prepped us on what was going to happen, but nothing could prepare me for walking down that aisle and seeing Liam's broad shoulders and black hair. My insides turned to jelly.

"Oh my God," I whispered to Andrew. "There he is."

He slid his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. "Don't worry, babe; he won't get near you."

I nodded and sat on the first row reserved for witnesses with Uncle Jeff. Andrew and Aunt Rose sat one row back next to Julia's parents. I couldn't bear to make eye contact with them. Slumping a little in my seat, and I felt Andrew's hand slip onto my shoulder. 

Swallowing hard, I sat up, steeling myself. I could face this monster. There was no way I was going to let him take me down now—not after I'd suffered so much already at his hand. Andrew must've felt my strength return, because he squeezed me once and removed his hand so he could sit back comfortably. Uncle Jeff patted my knee reassuringly, and I placed my hand on top of his.

At that moment, the doors behind the judge's bench opened, and a tall, bald gentleman of about 60 came out with a bailiff and court reporter. We all stood out of respect as the bailiff announced, "All rise for the honorable Judge Bradley." The judge took a seat and motioned for us to sit down. We did, and when he spoke, I trusted him immediately. His voice was low but powerful, kind but firm.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today shall begin the case of the People of the State of Florida versus Liam Bryce Covington. Are both sides prepared to begin?" Judge Bradley asked, folding his hands on top of the bench.

"The prosecution is ready," answered DA Murphy. I stared at the back of her head. We had met her only yesterday, but I already trusted that she was going to fight as hard as she could for a guilty verdict.

"The defense is ready," answered Liam's attorney, and I recognized him as George Robbins, one of the most sought-after defense attorneys in Middle Tennessee.

I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs at the ankles, my hand resting on my belly. I hated that our unborn child was in the same room as Liam. After the clerk swore in the jury, DA Murphy stood and faced them.

"Your Honor and ladies and gentlemen of the jury: Liam Covington, the defendant in this case, has been charged with the first-degree murder of Julia Noel Stone. The evidence will show that on the night of May 20th of this year, Mr. Covington showed up on the beach on the west end of Panama City with a loaded handgun. His fingerprints will later be found on that handgun, which had been recently fired. The bullet fired from that gun is the bullet that killed Ms. Stone. The evidence I present to you will prove that the defendant is guilty as charged."

When DA Murphy sat down, I let my breath out in a low whoosh. But before I could recover, Mr. Robbins was up and addressing the jury.

"Your Honor and ladies and gentlemen of the jury: I want to remind you that under the law, my client is to be presumed innocent until proven guilty. During this trial, I will show you evidence that Mr. Covington acted out of self-defense. The evidence will show that Ms. Stone had been plotting a crime of her own. Therefore, Mr. Covington had no choice but to protect himself."

I heard Sheila's sharp intake of breath behind me, and it matched my own. Self-defense? Really? This guy had to be fucking kidding. I struggled to remain calm; I knew I would be thrown out of this courtroom if I made any sort of rebuttal. So I bit my lip and waited for the judge to speak.

Judge Bradley broke through my thoughts. "The prosecution may call its first witness."

DA Murphy stood up and cleared her throat. "The People call Jeff Taylor."

Uncle Jeff stood up and squeezed my shoulder before he strode to the stand. After the bailiff swore him in, he stated his full name for the record before sitting in the chair behind the stand, his eyes never leaving DA Murphy's.

"Mr. Taylor, can you please state your relationship to Ms. Stone?" DA Murphy began.

"She was my niece's best friend."

DA Murphy nodded. "What about to Liam Covington?"

"I don't have a relationship with him. He was my niece's ex-boyfriend, but I never met him."

"Okay then. How did you come to meet Mr. Covington on the night of May 20th?"

"After my niece's wedding, my new nephew approached me, telling me he had lost his wallet and needed me to pay the wedding officiant. I went back down the beach to find the officiant when I ran into Mr. Covington. He had just dropped something behind a sand dune. I recognized him from the photos Charlotte had shown me. I apprehended him because I just knew he had been up to no good." At DA Murphy's small nod, Uncle Jeff stopped speaking.

"And what was it you thought he had been up to?"

"Well, I—I knew he was dangerous. After what happened in Tennessee, I knew he couldn't have had any honorable intentions. Then, I realized what he had dropped behind the sand dune—a handgun. I figured then that he had used that gun to hurt someone."

"Objection!" Mr. Robbins was on his feet. "Speculation."

Judge Bradley nodded. "Sustained. The witness will refrain from making any speculative statements about the actions of the defendant."

"Very well, Your Honor. Mr. Taylor, did you see Mr. Covington hurt anyone with the gun you found behind the sand dune?"

"No ma'am."

"I'd like to enter Exhibit A—the handgun registered to the defendant.

"Does the defense have any objection?" Judge Bradley asked Mr. Robbins.

"None, Your Honor."

"The handgun will be submitted as People's Exhibit A."

"Mr. Taylor, is this the handgun you retrieved from behind the sand dunes when the police arrived at the scene?"

Uncle Jeff leaned forward to get a closer look. The handgun had a distinctive handle and was silver where most guns I've seen are black. "Yes. It is."

"Thank you. Your Honor, I would now like to enter Exhibit B. A record of fingerprints found on the gun. Among those fingerprints are the defendant's."

A murmur went through the courtroom. I glanced back at Andrew, who gave me a confident grin.

Judge Bradley banged his gavel. "Silence in the courtroom. Defense, do you have any objections?"

Mr. Robbins looked pained to say it, but he croaked, "None, Your Honor."

"The fingerprints will be submitted as People's Exhibit B."

"Thank you, Your Honor. I have no further questions."

"Does the defense have any questions?" Judge Bradley asked Mr. Robbins.

"Just a couple, Your Honor," Mr. Robbins said, rising from his chair. I stole a glance at Liam, and he was shifting in his seat.

"Mr. Taylor, why did you find it necessary to apprehend my client?" he asked, pacing in front of the stand.

"Like I said before, I recognized Mr. Covington from the photos my niece had shown me. I knew he had no business being near that beach, and the way he was running was suspicious to me," Uncle Jeff said with the utmost confidence.

"Is that why you thought you should take it upon yourself to pull a gun on him?" Mr. Robbins spat. 

"Objection!" DA Murphy cried. "Argumentative!"

"Sustained. Mr. Robbins, rephrase your question," the judge ordered.

Mr. Robbins straightened his tie. "Did you, Mr. Taylor, apprehend my client with a gun?"

Uncle Jeff didn't blink. "Yes. I did. This man has hurt my niece in the past—in ways that aren't to be mentioned at this trial, I know. That gun is registered in my name, and I have a permit to carry it. I did not harm him; I merely used it to keep him from struggling with me while I waited for the police."

Mr. Robbins scoffed under his breath. "No further questions."

"The witness is excused," Judge Bradley said, and Uncle Jeff made his way back to his spot next to me. I leaned my head on his shoulder and he kissed my forehead.

"Prosecution, please call your next witness," the judge said.

DA Murphy stood up. My heart stopped for a millisecond when she said, "The People call Charlotte Emerson."