"Attorneys, your opening statements," Judge Terry announced.

Daniel Brown got up from his seat and buttoned his coat. He was a well-known public defender in South Carolina and Ethan's high schoolmate. After Ethan was incarcerated by the Bluffton P.D. and was told to make his one-time call, he phoned the lawyer.

Daniel drove from his house in shock at the news that his best friend had been arrested. He reached the local police station and was shown to the room Ethan was held.

"How are you holding up?" Dan had worriedly asked the moment he entered the small room with shuttered windows.

"I'm coping."

He sighed, moved to the section he sat, fell on a chair, and said, "This is serious, Eth. I reviewed your case. You're being charged with mass murder. There's no way you're getting out of this easily."

Ethan had dangled the cuffs around his wrist. "I'm being framed. I didn't kill those men in the storehouse." He'd stared at him, his eyes watery with unshed tears. "Damn it, three of the dead men were my colleagues. They shot Ted too."

Dan had been following up with the story on his way to the station. Almost all the papers were saying something about him. But everything he read, he knew they were all a lie, because Ethan Willows was one of the nicest men he'd met in his life. He knew he wasn't letting his sentimental attachment cloud his senses.

"I know, Eth, but they don't know."

Imploringly he had said, "You've got to help me."

"That's why I'm here. In a situation like this, I'd advise you to take the guilty plea, show remorse and you might get life imprisonment instead of the death penalty."

"That's crazy. Why would I admit to something I didn't do?"

"Because you want to live."

"No."

Dan had gotten infuriated for the first time during his tenure of work. Most of his clients weren't this stubborn, and he'd had no trouble cajoling them. Ethan Willows was different, and he knew it was certainly going to be painstaking to convince him that the guilty plea was his way out.

"Look here, Eth," he'd said, a little brusque in his voice, "If we go to court, there's a ninety-nine percent chance we're gonna lose. Why?

"Because your case is high profile. Everyone is following up with the story, and it'd be extremely difficult to prove your innocence when all the evidence proves you killed those men in the storehouse."

Ethan detected a hint of concern in his voice. Dan wanted him to live, and he wanted to vindicate himself. Without sounding offensive he'd said quietly, "No, Dan."

Dan nodded wearily. "Fine, we're going to court."

The thoughts roamed through the bright attorney's mind as he prepared to give his opening statement. He and Ethan shared a tense look before he said, "Your Honor, my client is being framed for a crime he didn't commit, and I'm here to prove it. Hopefully with your cooperation and the jury's, justice would be dispensed."

He sat down by his client and reviewed his notes. The prosecutor was Dan's nemesis. Lucy Sanders was a nonsense lawyer. Over the course of ten years, she had won a good number of cases and had put dangerous criminals behind bars. Dan wasn't afraid to stand up against her. He was only nervous about what she had in store for display. Rumors were that she had an uncanny way of manipulating jurors.

He listened to her long spiel about the justice system and how the deceased families were grieving and finding Ethan guilty was the only way they'd get closure. After a while, she called in a witness.

"A witness?"

Ethan said to his lawyer undertone.
"There was no witness, Dan. Something is wrong."

He darted his eyes to look at the witness being led to the stand by a bailiff. He was a gangly man in his early or late forties, Ethan wasn't sure, but he did notice his hands were shaking. He turned to Dan.

"Can't you do anything?"

"Just calm down. If a witness is brought in, there's nothing I can do other than listen to what he's got to say." He glanced at him and saw that he was tensed. "The jurors are looking at you. Don't give them a reason to doubt you at this point. Trust me, it's a disaster."

The witness was sworn in and the court clerk said, "Do you swear to tell the truth in front of the Court and nothing but the truth, so help me God?"

"Yes."

Hamilton sat slowly, and Lucy Sanders moved to the witness stand with a smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Jerry Hamilton."

"Good morning."

"If you're scared, it's normal. All you have to do is tell the truth and nothing else."

He nodded frantically and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

"You were the person who made the 911 call, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What did you see exactly?"

"I'm the caretaker of that storehouse the crime took place. I was walking to the place as usual and had barely reached my destination when I saw a man move toward the building. Initially, I thought he was my replacement because Mrs. Mann said she'd send a man to inspect the place. I called her, and she confirmed she hasn't. I was confused. Then I saw the man walk in."

Ethan listened attentively. Everything he'd said so far aligned with the truth. Dan took notes.

"What happened next?" Sanders asked.

"For five minutes nothing happened, then I heard gunshots-"

Ethan surged to his feet abruptly and shouted, "Liar!" Then he looked at Judge Terry whose eyes were widening. "You can't possibly believe what he's saying. He's lying. Can't you see?"

"Sit down, Mr. Willows!"

Ethan didn't. Clothes rustled as a chatter emanated from the jury panel and the spectators seated in pews. Terry reached for the gavel and struck the desk repeatedly. After she garnered attention, she said, "Attorney Brown, I won't allow unnecessary interruptions in my courtroom. Control your client else I'll be forced to control him."

Dan stared daggers at Ethan. The look on his face spoke implicit words to him. He sat slowly. Dan turned to Judge Terry with remorse. "Apologies, Your Honor. This won't happen again."

"I hope so, because the next time this repeats itself I'll charge your client with contempt of the law. Understood?"

Dan nodded and resumed his seat.

Terry turned to the witness. "Please continue."

Hamilton nodded. "I was scared, so I called the cops."

"You're doing great," Sanders said, "my last question. Can you identify the man you saw on the eve of the mass murder if you see him again?"

"Yes."

"Is he in the courtroom here with us today?"

"Yes, he is."

Sanders smirked. "The jurors want to see him, so do I and Judge Terry. Can you point to him?"

Hamilton fingered Ethan. Members from the jury panel stared at him. Terry's eyes fell on him and for the first time they made contact. She lost focus, then quickly drew back her eyes from him and spent two minutes processing everything she'd heard so far. Her mind was interrupted when Sanders said, "Your Honor, I have no further questions."

She nodded in acknowledgment and faced the defense table. "Attorney Brown, do you wish to cross-examine the witness?"

Hastily he murmured, "Yes," and rose from his seat. He walked to the witness box.

"So Mr. Hamilton," he began, "from your previous statements, you said you saw my client walk into the storehouse where the crime took place. Is that correct?"

"Yes, I did say that."

"Right. Immediately after you heard gunshots, you called the cops. Did you?"

"Yes."

"How many were the gunshots?"

His brows puckered and he tried peeping at the prosecuting table. Members of the jury waited for a reply. A palpable tension spread across the room.

Dan said sardonically, "The answer isn't there, Mr. Hamilton. Maybe I should rephrase. The gunshots you heard, how many were they?"

He didn't answer and Terry chipped in, "We're waiting, Mr. Hamilton."

He shrugged. "I-I. . . I don't know. Maybe five. . . or four." He sighed. "I wasn't paying attention to the number of gunshots. I was scared, you know."

"Maybe five. . . maybe four, which means you don't know the exact number of times my client supposedly shot the victims," Dan said, gaining a little leverage now. He turned to the jury panel.

"Seven dead bodies were discovered in that storehouse, each having been shot twice. There was Ted Baker too. He had a bullet in his abdominal region. So in all, we have fifteen gunshots."

Dan faced the witness. "After my client shot them as you claim, did he leave the storehouse?"

"I don't know. I was scared so I left the place."

"Okay. The cops arrived fifteen minutes after my client allegedly shot the men dead."

He got to his desk and retrieved two files. Then he gave one to Judge Terry and the other to the court clerk.

"This is an official statement from the officer in charge," he said, sauntering across the room.

"Fifteen good minutes. . . and my client was still in that storehouse. What was he doing exactly while he had an opportunity to flee the scene of the crime?"

The jury panel had curious faces now. Dan kept them in suspense for about a minute, letting them absorb everything they'd heard. Then slowly, he said, "Saving a man's life. A man he supposedly shot."

"Mr. Hamilton, I have only one question left. I hope you answer correctly. Were you forced to take the stand?"

Hamilton looked completely taken aback.

Saunders lurched to her feet and said, "Objection, Your Honor. Relevance? I don't see what Attorney Brown is getting at with this question."

Terry heaved a sigh. "Objection sustained." She shot Dan a look. "Get to the point, Attorney Brown."

Dan turned to Terry. "No further questions, Your Honor."

She nodded. "Court is adjourned. It'll convene tomorrow at the scheduled times. No delays." Terry struck the gavel on the desk.

#. #. #

Terry got into her office and took off the gown, then hung it on the wall. The side effect of the drugs she'd taken to kill the migraine hadn't gone permanently. She still felt drowsy.

She lazily walked to the swivel chair and sat down. Her table had always been neatly arranged. Books at one side, files at the other-nothing interspersed, so it wasn't difficult to tell that the white envelope on the table shouldn't have been there. She couldn't remember receiving any envelopes too, and she knew she'd locked her door before she left for the trial.

Terry didn't want to pick up the envelope, in case something. . . She dreaded the words, so she cut off her thought. Was the envelope for her? Possibly. Perhaps someone had mistakenly left it there, but she'd locked her door, and no one had the keys to her office. Her secretary was on break too.

When she saw her name scrawled on it, her curiosity reached a climax. She grabbed it, pulled off the string, and reached for the contents. There was a letter and a photograph. She read the letter and her eyes widened. The photograph almost scared her to death.