Presumed Guilty. Dana R. Lynn

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      “I’m fine. Thank you for agreeing to drive me home.”

      He threw a furious scowl her way. “Yeah,” he retorted, sarcasm heavy in his voice, “this is exactly what I wanted to be doing today.”

      “I’m sor—” She halted. No way would she apologize for any of this. Whether he believed it or not, she was the victim, and had been for a long time. Fueled by indignation, she found her anger and became bold. “Why are you even here? It’s obvious you agree with those nuts out there.”

      His eyes widened, but were just as quickly shuttered.

      Had she surprised him with her candor?

      “It’s my job. My boss felt you were in danger. Whether or not I agree, the chief wanted someone here. I drew the short straw. So here I am...a glorified babysitter for an ex-con.”

      That hurt. Melanie looked out the window as frustration clawed at her throat, making her voice tight when she spoke.

      “I am not a criminal.”

      “A jury of your peers disagreed.”

      “I don’t care.” Her voice was low and husky. “I never sold drugs to anyone, especially not to teenagers.”

      He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. You were just a victim of circumstances.”

      “I was!”

      “Look, lady...”

      “My name is Melanie, not Lady.”

      “Whatever. The point is, Melanie, no matter how innocent you claim to be, all the evidence implicated you. I collected it myself.”

      “I know,” Melanie responded bitterly. “But it was all circumstantial. What absolute proof was there?”

      The lieutenant made a disgusted sound. “If you were so innocent, why the suicide attempt?”

      Distress filled Melanie. An inarticulate sound of pain escaped from her throat, almost like that of a wounded animal. “I didn’t... I wouldn’t...” she choked out, and turned to face the window. This time, the tears would not be held back. They trickled in a slow stream down her cheek.

      She heard him sigh again but was determined to ignore him. Awful man. How dare he treat her this way? Even if she had been guilty, she had served her sentence and paid her debt to society. She knew in her heart, though, that she was not guilty. Proving it, however, had been beyond her power. Maybe if she could have remembered the night in question...she shook her head. She needed to move on.

      “Melanie.”

      She refused to acknowledge him.

      “Melanie, I’m sorry.” The words sounded somewhat strangled.

      She turned around from the window and glared at him. “Don’t choke on your apology.”

      Unexpectedly, he chuckled. A shiver went down her spine at the pleasant sound. Under different circumstances, she might have been attracted to him. As it was, she couldn’t help but view him as an adversary.

      “I won’t say that I don’t think you’re guilty, because I do.” Melanie turned away from him. “I will apologize for my unprofessional behavior.”

      She nodded in acknowledgment. What else could she say?

      The remainder of the thirty-minute drive from Erie to LaMar Pond was silent. Uncomfortable. Melanie kept her gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside her window. Only a few more minutes, she told herself when she saw the sign for LaMar Pond. The car slowed as the lieutenant maneuvered past two Amish buggies. Lieutenant Tucker and Melanie both sighed in relief when her aunt’s house came into view. It would have been humorous if the circumstances had been different.

      Dear Aunt Sarah. Even with all the supposed “evidence,” she had refused to believe her only niece could have committed the vile acts of which she was accused. Everyone else abandoned Mel. Her friends, her coworkers at the restaurant, even her fiancé. But not Aunt Sarah. For that alone, Melanie would be forever grateful.

      The cruiser turned onto the gravel path that led up to the small cottage Sarah Swanson had built with her husband thirty years earlier. The area remained remarkably untouched in the years that followed. The closest neighbor was half a mile away. Melanie had always loved the peacefulness. The lack of people around appealed to her. Especially now. Impatience grabbed her. She tried to open her door. Locked. Throwing Lieutenant Tucker a scowl, she gestured toward the door. He rolled his eyes as he unlocked it. Ignoring him, she pushed the door open and ran up the front steps.

      She stopped. Uneasiness shivered through her. The front door was open. Aunt Sarah never left doors open.

      “What’s the holdup?”

      She whirled to face the grim-faced man stalking toward her.

      “Lieutenant,” she started. Stopped. If she shared her suspicions, he would think she was playing games. Her aunt had probably felt tired and left the door open so her niece wouldn’t have to wait for her to maneuver through the house in her wheelchair. Mel remembered how drama wore her aunt out.

      Melanie flattened her mouth into a determined line. Straightening her shoulders, she pushed the door open and entered. And screamed.

      * * *

      Melanie’s scream pushed Jace into action. He bolted up the stairs. He found Melanie kneeling on the floor beside her aunt’s unconscious body. Tears streamed down her face. She was shaking her aunt’s shoulder and calling her name. No response. Jace glanced around, his eyes alert. Sarah’s chair was still where it had been when she fell out of it. A shattered mug was on the floor. Sarah herself was lying in a puddle of what looked like hot chocolate. Her wispy white curls were matted with the liquid.

      Instinctively, Jace fell back on his first-aid training. He glanced around the room, making sure no other dangers lurked before falling to his knees beside Melanie. He could hear the elderly woman’s labored breathing. Together, they carefully turned her onto her back. Melanie gasped at the sight, and Jace could hardly blame her. Sarah Swanson’s eyelids and lips were swollen to three times their normal size.

      “Anaphylactic shock?” Jace queried.

      Mel nodded in agreement. She raced to the desk against the wall and tore open her aunt’s purse, desperately riffling through its contents.

      “Yes!” Triumphantly, Mel held up the object she had been searching for. An EpiPen. Jace made room for her as she rushed back. Throwing herself on her knees next to the prone woman, she jabbed the needle into her aunt’s thigh. Then she sat back on her heels. Jace watched the desperation leave her face as her aunt’s breathing became more natural. Holding Melanie’s eyes, he flipped open his phone and called for an ambulance. Releasing her gaze, he stood. He needed to call the chief and give him an update.

       Smash!

      Mel screamed again. The brick that had been flung through the window landed with a thud beside her. Glass shards glistened in her hair. In the midmorning sunlight, they resembled diamonds.

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