Those Cold Eyes ✓

Epilogue

I sat at the edge of my seat in the crowded courtroom, watching Zach clad in a dark suit next to a young girl. She was only 18 but the bravery in her heart made her appear far older. Having faced more than what a teenager ever should have to endure, she represented so many girls and boys who never got this far—their voices silenced before they had a chance at closure.

It was Zach's first case as the sole prosecutor. Before, he had always been accompanied by senior members of the office he belonged to. He'd come a long way since he finished his degree, but this was the ultimate trial, not only because he sat there alone, but because the man on the other side of the isle was far too familiar.

Clive sat with his back straight, staring at the girl with malice. She refused to meet his eyes, but I believe that to be a sign of strength rather than one of weakness. She didn't need to meet his challenge. She already had him nailed down, and hopefully, she would see him walk out through that large door with cuffs around his wrists.

Their case was already made. Zach had had his final say, and now we were all waiting for the verdict. Clive's lawyer kept writing notes, but I was fairly certain that he was writing to keep himself occupied. He was clearly uncomfortable beside his client, probably aware that Clive faced long years in prison after the jury announced their verdict.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Clive's friends two rows behind me. Their glum faces betrayed their fear. Obviously, the case wasn't just clear to Zach and me, it was also clear to those who attended the trial.

The girl's parents sat close to their daughter, hands clasped. They appeared nervous. Her dad had been particularly helpful during the months leading up to the trial, showing just how much he cared about his family. They hadn't blamed her for what happened, something that seemed far too common.

Of course, Clive's lawyer had asked a number of offensive questions, such as what clothes she wore, why she was out at night and how often she had sex with men upon their first encounter. He had tried to paint the picture of a slut, but even if she was sexually active, she hadn't given him fodder for such accusations. The judge had stopped his line of questioning when it got too far. She seemed like a decent judge, and I knew Zach had great respect for her.

The jury was a wild card, however. No one knew what they would rule. Rape cases were still difficult. Often it was one man's word against another—her statement of being subdued, and Clive's defense that she had complied.

Evidence proved that they did have sex, so there were no questions concerning that part. Zach had presented one other evidence that weighed in our favor—a recording that the girl had somehow managed to get. She had been sane enough to reach for her phone and started a video recording. The video showed nothing, but you could clearly hear her pleas for him to stop.

The recording was difficult to listen to because the sheer terror in her voice evoked terror in others. You could hear her pain and how defenseless she was beneath the man twice her size.

Zach met my gaze, nodding with confidence. I hoped he was right. She deserved justice, and Clive certainly deserved to go to jail. I also knew that Zach felt partially responsible for what happened to the girl. If we had found evidence of what Clive did to his sister all those years ago, perhaps the man wouldn't have been able to harm yet another girl—and who knew how many he had raped or assaulted in between.

The courtroom stirred when the jury returned to their seats. We all rose to greet the judge, and then it was time to hear the final verdict.

She rambled a long while, and even if I tried to get what exactly she was saying, my focus kept shifting to Zach. He looked somber, patient. Then, all of a sudden, he smiled wide, including his client first, and then me. Pure relief shone from his eyes. She cried, letting go of her stoic appearance to embrace the truth of her victory.