“A man’s family becomes important when you get married.”

“Nobody said anything about getting married.” I hadn’t let my mind wander that far into the future. I didn’t want to jinx us.

Violet’s face softened. “Look, Rose. Joe’s the first man you’ve dated. You’re young. Have some fun.”

“But Mike was the first boy you ever dated and look at you now.”

The shower water turned off. Violet stared at me for several moments before she put her knife down and opened the back door. “Ashley, come inside and wash your hands for dinner.” She picked Mikey up from the floor and set him in the high chair. Pausing, she looked around the kitchen, then turned to me, a sadness creeping into her eyes. “Give yourself a chance to explore your choices, Rose. Just don’t settle, okay?”

The unspoken like me hung in the air, even more ominous in its silence. My chest filled with dread. Violet and Mike were one of the happiest couples I knew. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Okay, Vi. I’ll think about what you said.”

Mike carried in a giggling Ashley and we sat down to eat. Without mentioning the details of the trial, I told them about my day at the courthouse, leaving out my vision in the men’s restroom. Violet would have had a stroke that I’d gone in there in the first place, and if she found out I’d been so close to a potential murderer again, she’d probably try to send a note to get me excused. I had a feeling no matter my age, Violet would always see me as the little girl who needed protecting from the world.

I went home sad and confused, and even more eager to talk to Joe. I tried him again at ten o’clock with no answer. Just as I was starting to get worried, he texted.

I can’t talk right now. Still working. I miss you, too.

Joe told me little about his job, but he rarely worked this late, and he always called. The only time he’d had irregular hours like this since I’d know him was when he’d lived next door and worked undercover. But Joe told me he wasn’t working undercover this week and he promised that he’d never lie to me. I desperately clung to my belief in him.

Chapter Six

The air conditioning was still out in the courthouse the next morning and tempers were short. Mr. Deveraux called Detective Taylor back to the stand to finish his questioning. He didn’t ask about the lapel pin the detective found in the safe. Perhaps it was out of concern that I might pass out again, but more likely he thought it unimportant. My only hope was Mr. Yates would ask about the pin in cross-examination.

Mr. Deveraux took up his usual pacing. “Detective Taylor, did you find any fingerprints at the scene?”

“We found multiple prints and ran them all. Most belonged to store employees, but we also found Mr. Decker’s. We had his prints on file, seeing how Mr. Decker has a lengthy record with the Henryetta police department.”

“So you proceeded to question the defendant?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Deveraux paused and turned to face the jury. “And how did you know where to find Mr. Decker?”

Detective Taylor looked at the defendant. “I got his last known address from his parole officer.”

“Objection, You Honor!” Mr. Yates shouted, his face reddening beyond the pink flush he already had. “The counselor is trying to sway the jury with the details of my client’s past instead of focusing on the facts at hand.”

“Overruled.” The judge frowned. “The details of your client’s past are how the police linked your client to the crime scene.” He looked down at Mr. Deveraux. “Proceed.”

“So you went to Mr. Decker’s home and questioned him?”

“Yes.”

“And what happened during the interview?”

“Mr. Decker seemed exceptionally nervous. Nervousness is to be expected considering his past record—”

“Objection!”

“Overruled.”

The corners of Mr. Deveraux’s mouth lifted slightly as he titled his head toward Mr. Yates. “Go on, Detective. You were mentioning the defendant’s overly abundant nervousness.”

Detective Taylor cleared his throat. “Yes, as I was saying, a certain amount of nervousness is to be expected from a repeat offender such as Mr. Decker, but his was more so than the usual.”

Judge McClary pointed his gavel at Mr. Yates, whose mouth had dropped open about to protest. He pressed his lips together in an angry grimace.

“I pushed harder with my questioning about Mr. Decker’s whereabouts the night before until he contradicted himself. He first stated that he’d been home all night then said he went to the Short Stop convenience store on the corner.”

Mr. Deveraux began to pace in front of the jury box, stopping in front of the stinky man to my right. “Stopping at the convenience store is hardly a suspicious activity, Detective Taylor. What made you question his story?”

“The convenience store was closed for parking lot resurfacing that night.”

A satisfied look filled Mr. Deveraux’s eyes, and he nodded his head toward the jurors. “So… Mr. Decker was lying?”

“Yes.”

A woman behind me mumbled under her breath. “Um, mm, mm.”

“Did Mr. Decker confess?”

“No, and even though we knew he was lying, we didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him at the time.”

“Yet here he is in our fine courtroom. You must have discovered evidence to tie him to the crime.”