Billy Frayne, a criminology student has a lot of attitude and particularly about the Clarke murder case. Convinced his theory of the case is correct, he takes a sucker bet to prove it. What begins as a sure thing and summer adventure, quickly becomes a mystery within a mystery with Billy’s past at the core of it all.
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PROLOGUE - Oxford, Mississippi - August 9, 1993
“The jury’s in!” echoed through the halls of the old courthouse. The courtroom hummed with murmured voices and shuffling feet. Announcing the arrival of the Honorable Josiah Memphis, the bailiff said, “All rise.”
Like the dinosaur that he was, Memphis moved at a slow and awkward pace. He took his perch above the gallery, arranged his robes and nodded to the bailiff.
“Be seated.” Murmurs melted to a hush.
Overhead fans groaned and squeaked as they fought to move the hot, humid air.
“Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?” Memphis looked to Sam Quigley - a hardware store owner who’d never been important until that moment.
“We have, Your Honor,” Quigley struck a solemn pose.
“The defendant will please rise,” Memphis drawled.
Beautiful and beleaguered Rachel Clarke, rose with her attorney, Tommy Hicks. She clutched Tommy’s jacket sleeve with one hand and the gold locket around her neck with the other. Tommy whispered in her ear and smiled at her. Rachel nodded and stared straight ahead.
A collective breath caught in the throats of the gallery spectators. The bailiff, yoked by the heat and old age, lumbered to the jury box and then back to the bench.
Memphis opened the scrap of paper that held Rachel’s fate. His expression conveyed nothing when he folded the paper, gave it to the bailiff and nodded. When Quigley held the verdict in his hand again, Memphis cleared his throat. “How say you?”
Quigley swallowed and answered. “We, the jury, in the above-entitled action, on the sole charge of the indictment of murder in the first degree, find the defendant, Rachel Clarke . . . not guilty.”
Voices, bodies and flashguns exploded like a summer thunderstorm. Arms and legs flailing to get to the exit. Rachel Clarke had beat the odds and the news was exploding on lips, tape recorders, tv cameras and radio stations. The silence came quickly.
Rachel let go of a breath she’d held in for what seemed hours. “We did it, darlin’” Tommy hugged her then let her go. “Now go on out of here and get your life back.”
Rachel nodded and watched as he too left the room that had been her life for so many months.
She turned to the one remaining person, her sister, Elizabeth. “It’s over.” Tears flooded her vision. “It’s finally over.”
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PROLOGUE - Oxford, Mississippi - August 9, 1993
“The jury’s in!” echoed through the halls of the old courthouse. The courtroom hummed with murmured voices and shuffling feet. Announcing the arrival of the Honorable Josiah Memphis, the bailiff said, “All rise.”
Like the dinosaur that he was, Memphis moved at a slow and awkward pace. He took his perch above the gallery, arranged his robes and nodded to the bailiff.
“Be seated.” Murmurs melted to a hush.
Overhead fans groaned and squeaked as they fought to move the hot, humid air.
“Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?” Memphis looked to Sam Quigley - a hardware store owner who’d never been important until that moment.
“We have, Your Honor,” Quigley struck a solemn pose.
“The defendant will please rise,” Memphis drawled.
Beautiful and beleaguered Rachel Clarke, rose with her attorney, Tommy Hicks. She clutched Tommy’s jacket sleeve with one hand and the gold locket around her neck with the other. Tommy whispered in her ear and smiled at her. Rachel nodded and stared straight ahead.
A collective breath caught in the throats of the gallery spectators. The bailiff, yoked by the heat and old age, lumbered to the jury box and then back to the bench.
Memphis opened the scrap of paper that held Rachel’s fate. His expression conveyed nothing when he folded the paper, gave it to the bailiff and nodded. When Quigley held the verdict in his hand again, Memphis cleared his throat. “How say you?”
Quigley swallowed and answered. “We, the jury, in the above-entitled action, on the sole charge of the indictment of murder in the first degree, find the defendant, Rachel Clarke . . . not guilty.”
Voices, bodies and flashguns exploded like a summer thunderstorm. Arms and legs flailing to get to the exit. Rachel Clarke had beat the odds and the news was exploding on lips, tape recorders, tv cameras and radio stations. The silence came quickly.
Rachel let go of a breath she’d held in for what seemed hours. “We did it, darlin’” Tommy hugged her then let her go. “Now go on out of here and get your life back.”
Rachel nodded and watched as he too left the room that had been her life for so many months.
She turned to the one remaining person, her sister, Elizabeth. “It’s over.” Tears flooded her vision. “It’s finally over.”
