Out of the Darkness by Bethlee (books for men to read .TXT) 📖

in the hall looking like a freshly scrubbed puppy. Her hair was plastered to the side of her head, and the uniform was hanging off of her. The pants were missing the drawstring, so she had to hold the waistband up as she walked down the hall to her cell.

Hours later, another officer escorted her to the precinct’s interrogation room. After opening the room’s door, he pointed her inside and said, “You need to wait in here. A Sharolette Clayton and a lawyer are here to see you.”

Amelia nodded and slid into one of the metal chairs. Without looking up, she folded her arms on the table and laid her head on them. I hovered beside to her, strongly wanting but unable to comfort her. She raised her head, looked in my direction, then laid it back down.

Her actions startled me, but not enough to convince me to move. I stayed there wishing to protect her from my evil stepmother.

I had hated Sharolette from the moment my father brought her home only three months after my mom died. My feelings weren’t one sided, either. Sharolette had managed to make my life a living hell for exactly one year, four months and twenty-six days until my dad’s death. Even though Amelia was innocent, leave it to Sharolette to hire a defense lawyer to defend the person charged with my murder.

The precinct’s interrogation room was silent when Sharolette entered for their initial meeting; only the humming of the overhead fluorescent lights and the tapping of her stilettos on the concrete floor could be heard. She found Amelia seated slouched over the table, tracing the wood grain patterns with her right index finger. When Amelia saw Sharolette, she buried her head in her folded arms.

Sharolette turned to the guard and whispered, “I’ve known Amelia for years. I’m here to help her. Joseph Crandoff”—she waved at the tall, dark-haired man standing beside her—“is going to defend her.”

The guard nodded and motioned Sharolette to the table. She clicked past him, pulling her companion with her.

Once the guard left, closing the door behind him, Sharolette turned to Amelia and took a deep breath. Placing her purse in an adjacent chair, she leaned across the table. “You sure have got yourself into a mess this time. And your daddy isn’t around to rescue you.”

I couldn’t understand the sarcasm in Sharolette’s voice. Apparently Amelia didn’t either. Her eyes widened as she looked up and said. “What? What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing, honey. I always promised your father I would take care of you. You know—if anything ever happened to him.” Sharolette dramatically waved her manicured hand high into the air. “And—ta-da—here I am.”

Sharolette tucked her tailored skirt beneath her hips and slid into one of the metal chairs across the table from Amelia. Mr. Crandoff sat in a chair beside her.

Placing both of her hands on Amelia’s left hand, Sharolette lowered her voice and said. “Amelia, honey. How are you holding up?”

How dare Sharolette touch her. Move away! Don’t let her touch you!

Attempting to shield Amelia, I hovered in between them.

Amelia looked at Sharolette for a brief moment, then sat up and slid her hands from the table into her lap. Looking down, she shrugged her thin shoulders. “I guess I’m okay. I’m just confused. I don’t understand how they could say I shot Michael.”

Because you never would. I’m here.

I just wish she knew it.

Sharolette took a lace handkerchief from her purse and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Honey, cheer up. This is all a huge mistake. Everyone knows you would never hurt him.” She sniffed loudly. “Please forgive me. This entire ordeal has upset me so. I haven’t slept a wink since it started.”

She tucked her handkerchief into the sleeve of her blouse and continued. “Anyway, Joseph is going to defend your case. He’ll take care of everything. He’s an excellent defense attorney, and he’s going to smooth out this misunderstanding. And I’m sure he’ll be able to explain the letters you wrote Michael. You know—the ones the police found in his apartment.”

Looking at Sharolette, Amelia shook her head. “But I already have a lawyer. My aunt Cat is going to defend me.” She scrunched her eyebrows together as she continued. “Wait a minute. What letters are you talking about? I never wrote any letters.”

“Honey, slow down. Let’s take one thing at a time. Cat can’t defend you. She’s a corporate lawyer. She has no experience in front of a jury. You need a defense attorney. Joseph is the best one for this job. Trust me.” Sharolette removed her handkerchief and dabbed the corner of her eyes again. Then she tucked a strand of her platinum bob behind her ear.

Amelia, don’t trust them. This is wrong!

I thought as loud as my ghostly state would permit, but of course, she didn’t hear me. No one could.

Amelia leaned into the table and whispered, “But who is he?” She turned and looked at Joseph. “I’m sorry—please, don’t take this the wrong way. But I have no idea who you are.”

Turning back to Sharolette, she said, “How do you know him?”

“Honey, I’ve known Joseph for years. He’s the best.”

Joseph leaned forward to meet Amelia’s gaze. “I’ll work hard to get you the verdict you need. You can trust me.” Extending his right hand, he laid it on the table closer to her.

Will you, please, stop telling Amelia to trust you? She doesn’t even know you!

I screamed at Joseph.

Leaning back, Amelia crossed her arms in front of her and scrunched her eye brows tighter as she looked at him. Slowly shaking her head, she said, “So, how long have you been practicing law?”

“I have over ten years’ experience with criminal law. I’m excellent at getting what I want.” Adjusting his posture, he placed his clasped hands on the table.

Amelia looked at Joseph a moment, and then turned to Sharolette, “You’re right. I guess I need a defense attorney. Is he the best?”

“Honey, believe me. He’s the best one for this job.” Extending her right hand, she waited for Amelia to shake it.

Hovering between her and Sharolette, I said, Whatever you do, don’t take her hand. Trust me!

Turning away from Sharolette’s outstretched hand, Amelia nodded at Joseph. “All right, if you’re as good as she says, I guess you’re hired. But I want Cat to sit as co-council.”

“Agreed.” Joseph nodded his head as he took a recorder out of his suit’s pocket. He turned it on and placed it on the table. Next he flipped on an I-pad, opened a file and said. “Now, can you tell me what happened? Where did you get the gun?” He typed notes as Amelia spoke.

“When I arrived, Michael had already been shot and there was blood everywhere. My phone wouldn’t work and I didn’t have anything to stop the bleeding. I didn’t see anyone around to help, so I looked in his car to see if he had an old shirt or something.” Looking down at her hands she shivered, then lowered her voice and continued. “That was when I found the gun. It was under the front seat of his car.”

How did a gun get under the front seat of my car? I didn’t own a gun.

Joseph looked up. “The police’s lab report said you’d fired the gun. Why did you fire it?”
“I heard a loud noise behind us. It almost sounded like a. . .a laugh. I was afraid the murderer had returned, so I whirled around and shot into the air.” Her voice caught as tears ran down her face. “I was so scared, I wasn’t thinking. I just reacted.”


Joseph looked at the I-pad. “Why were you there in the first place? In a previous statement, you told the police you had been at a fundraiser committee meeting and had planned to meet Michael at Zoe’s Chinese restaurant.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I went to the restaurant and Michael wasn’t there. He was late, and that wasn’t like him. He’d told me he was spending the afternoon at the library, so I went to look for him. I knew something was wrong.” Tears streaked her face as she began to hiccup, unable to catch her breath.

Joseph exchanged a quick look with Sharolette. “It’s okay. Take your time.”

I knelt beside her. Amelia, I’m sorry. Please calm down.

If only she could hear me. How could anyone believe her capable of murder? Can’t they see she’s innocent?

A few moments after Amelia caught her breath, Joseph interrupted the silence. “I know this is hard, but we need to continue. Can you tell me about the letters they found in Michael’s apartment? The police said you had threatened Michael in the letters.”

Amelia wrapped her arms around herself and huddled in her chair. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. The last time I wrote Michael was a year ago, when he was away in college at Nashville. I didn’t threaten him. I was just trying to goad him into responding back—it was playful. Other than those, I have no idea what letters they’re talking about.”

How could I have been this stupid not to realize those letters could come back and hurt you? Amelia, I’m sorry. They were so warm and endearing. Meaningless threats to our friendship if I didn’t respond to your letters, they were harmless.

But they were my lifeline connecting me to you.

Joseph leaned into the table and gestured toward Amelia. “I only have one more question and then we’ll be finished for now. This may be hard, but can you think of anyone that would want Michael dead?”

Amelia looked down, exhaled and shook her head. “For the life of me, I can’t think of anyone that would kill Michael.” She looked at Joseph. “I’ve tried to come up with a list of people that would do this, but he simply didn’t have any enemies.”

I’m so sorry you have to go through this.

I wish you knew I was here. But she was right. I couldn’t think of anyone that would want me dead either.

Amelia wiped stray tears from her face with her sleeve. “I just can’t believe they think I killed Michael.” She pulled her knees up into her chair and wrapped her arms around them.
Sharolette stood, pulling Joseph beside her. “Amelia, honey, don’t worry. We’ll be back to talk again soon, and we’ll take care of everything.”

Their footsteps echoed through the room as they left.

Helpless, unable to do anything, I watched as Amelia collapsed on to the table, crying so hard it broke my silent heart.
*
For the next three weeks, I hovered in the background observing more interrogations. Her attorney, Joseph, planned strategies, questioned motives and hunted for evidence. When the trial began it was like watching a circus. The media in one ring, the prosecutors in another and Joseph in the third.

From the far side of the courtroom, I watched everything unfold. Amelia deteriorated quickly when the prosecutors presented their case. All of their evidence was circumstantial, but her lawyer never objected, and the judge did not seem to notice. As the trial progressed she became a fixture in her chair, never looking up or responding to anything the lawyers said. She appeared as if she would break if someone touched her. The only color to her face was the ruptured