Daughter Saves Father

“I’m not confused!” Hope shouted. The sudden volume silenced Reynolds. “I’m not! I did the work!”

She held the folder up like a shield.

“It’s all in here,” she said, tears finally starting to well in her eyes. “The times. The signatures. And the secret.”

Callaghan stared at her. He saw something in her face—a desperate, terrifying bravery that he hadn’t seen in years. Most people looked at him with pity or fear. This girl looked at him with expectation.

“The secret?” Callaghan asked, his voice dropping an octave.

“About Mr. Harlow,” Hope said. She pointed a small finger at the prosecution’s table, where Martin Harlow, the shop owner, sat. Harlow was a thick-necked man who had spent the trial looking smug and bored. Now, he stiffened.

“The secret about the other times he lied,” Hope finished.

The room went dead silent. The laughter evaporated.

Callaghan looked at the bailiff, who was reaching for Hope’s arm. “Wait,” the judge commanded.

He looked back at the girl. “Come to the bench.”

The Evidence

Hope pushed through the gate. She walked past her father, giving him a quick, brave nod, and approached the looming wooden structure of the judge’s bench. She was so small that Callaghan had to lean over the edge of his wheelchair to see her.

“Hand it to me,” Callaghan said.

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