I knew that silver watch.
And I knew the dent along the side of the black pickup parked behind him.
It was Howard.
My aunt’s husband.
The same man who had just sat in a courtroom and told everyone he wanted to give my little sister “the loving home she deserved.”
My chair scraped against the floor.
“That’s him.”
My voice sounded strangely far away.
The judge raised her eyes.
“Michael?”
I pointed at the picture.
“That’s Howard.”
Howard immediately stood.
“That’s ridiculous.”
His attorney grabbed his arm.
“Sit down.”
“I wasn’t there!”
Denise stared at the photograph.
Something changed in her face.
Until that moment, she had looked furious.
Now she looked frightened.
Not embarrassed.
Not cornered.
Frightened.
Howard noticed me watching her.
“Denise,” he said sharply.
She swallowed.
The judge studied them both.
“Mr. Parker, sit down immediately.”
Howard obeyed.
Barely.
My lawyer, Daniel Mercer, placed another sheet beside the photograph.
