defendant?”
“We find the defendant guilty.” Each time I hear the word guilty, a small sense of relief washes over me. He’s guilty. I’m safe. Please, let me be safe from him.
“Madam Foreperson,” the judge says, “ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for your time.” With that, the jury stands up and walks in single file back out the door they entered through, allowing the judge to continue on with sentencing.
Once the door closes, leaving the focus solely on the judge, he places his glasses back over the bridge of his nose and crosses his hands over his desk. “Arson is a very serious crime. However, murder in the first degree and attempted murder are much larger crimes.” The judge looks from Tanner to those of us sitting behind the prosecutor, and then back to Tanner again. “Mr. Holt,” the judge takes a brief pause. I take the moment to look at Tanner once more, even though I told myself to stop. He appears bored, like whatever the outcome is, won’t matter to him. How can someone not care this much? I don’t get it. “In the state of Rhode Island, the charge of murder in the first degree carries with it a mandatory life sentence. Considering you were found guilty of arson, attempted murder, and murder in the first degree, you’re being sentenced to life in prison, but with the possibility of parole after twenty-five years.”
Tanner’s attorney has his head bowed toward his chest and his hands squeezing around the back of his neck.
The bailiff grabs Tanner by the arm, pulling him up from his seat. Tanner’s eyes are settled on mine, a smile pulling at his lips as he says loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I still love you, Liss. And I will until the day you die.” The Bailiff promptly shoves Tanner out the door and tells him not to say another word.
Multiple sets of arms wrap around me, but I can’t focus. I can’t comprehend this. It’s too big. It’s too much. Muffled words are spoken into my ears, but I can’t make out what anyone’s saying. All I can hear is Tanner saying, I still love you, Liss. And I will until the day you die.
Shit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SINCE MY APARTMENT is under repair, they offered to move me to another unit, which I’ve done. Life is falling back into place, slowly. Very slowly.
With the help of a therapist, I’m trying to forgive myself for not being able to help Blake. Regardless of not knowing he was home, I still feel responsible. He was right next door. I could have woken him up and dragged him out with me. Instead, I let the fire ravage his unconscious body. The therapist tells me I have control over the red hue in the sky. That’s a little harder to wrap my head around, though. She said when I forgive myself and accept that Tanner and only Tanner is to blame for Blake’s death, it’ll disappear. But I think the reason I still see red is because part of me is afraid to let it go. I feel like I’ll be moving on and away, leaving Blake behind in the fire.
“Ready to go?” Hayes asks, holding my purse out to me.
I can’t wait to get this cast off my arm. Along with my emotional traumas, I also have an itch I haven’t been able to scratch in weeks. “Yeah.” I want every reminder of Tanner, gone. Every time I look down at my wrist, I know he did this to me. Maybe after this, I can try to move forward. I have to.
“I’ll go grab our coats in case it’s cold,” Hayes says, walking into the bedroom.
“After the appointment, I want to go thank Detective Earnst. I have a card for him.” I sent one to Mr. Michaels last week, too. It’s the least I can do for them.
“Sure thing,” Hayes says, eyeing me warily as he returns from the bedroom. “This isn’t a little ploy to get me back into the station is it?” He’s asking because, over the past few weeks, I’ve been urging him to go back to work. He’s damn good at what he does, and I think he’d be happy moving on from the murder case he was on and getting back into the swing of things. Plus, I may or may not have asked Earnst and a couple of the other guys to try their hand at persuading him, too. They want