The grin on Dr. Lindsey McCall’s face was so broad that it nearly split her face in two as she gazed around the Huntsville Prison Emergency Treatment Center with an unusual sense of pride. McCall had felt no pride in the discovery of her new drug Digipro, yet the irrepressible joy in the new center was a tangible thing. The gleaming technology arrayed in the diagnostic room on her left, the state of the art eight-bed patient care area that dominated the Center filled her with joy.
How can I restore what I have never stolen? — Psalm 69
“I had never sat on a jury before, ever. And I hope I never do again.” Allbrite’s dark blue eyes searched Kate’s brown ones. “Wouldn’t you think that there would be twelve people willing to weigh the evidence? Willing to listen critically to the case presented against him by the DA? “Wouldn’t you think a jury of your peers would begin by assuming innocence? I waited for three hours while the judge, the prosecution, and defense eliminated potential jurors. Over thirty people were dismissed that morning. If they had a relative who was a cop or they’d had prior experience with sexual abuse, they were excused. But we still ended up with eleven people who believed the guy was guilty simply because he was there.”
Suddenly, the dog raced over to Gabe and sat, right in front of his face and slowly, eased his nose to touch McAllister’s face. McAllister’s was not the only face with tears streaming down it.