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movements were well documented. What’s more, the man had placed a verified call from his home at exactly 9:45, a call that had lasted thirty-seven minutes.
    Throughout the trial, Mariana had argued that Ethan could have theoretically committed the murder at any time in the given window, quite easily made it outside by 9:30, where he was seen by the two witnesses, had plenty of time to stop at the store, and still make it home in time to place his phone call. But in light of this new evidence and her own calculations, even assuming the crime had occurred at the earliest possible point of 9:05, she knew the killer couldn’t have left the scene until at least five minutes until ten, probably much later
    The grim realization was beginning to sink in. Mariana absent-mindedly sorted through photos and then she noticed something else. Something she’d missed. In one of the pictures, a reflection could be seen in the glass of the grandfather clock. The reflection of a man holding a camera. The image was simply too faint to make any kind of ID, but it was obvious the man wasn’t Ethan!
    She knew it then. The man she had in custody, the one she was prosecuting, wasn’t the killer. The cold hard truth was difficult to face. Six months of work and sweat she’d poured into this case, and now it appeared to have all been for nothing. The whole investigation and trial had been a complete waste of time and effort.
    Or, had it? The trial was nearly over, with the consensus being she was only a day or two away from winning. The only thing that threatened a victory for the state was this collection of pictures. But what if no one was to ever see them?
    Without hesitation, Mariana made her choice. Stuffing the glossy photos back into the envelope, she slipped it into the pocket of her blue denim jacket. Quickly replacing the panel, she locked the door and exited the house through the rear door. In a frenzied rush, the conniving officer of the court wasted no time in driving away.
    Back home, mulling over the possible ramifications of her dilemma with a bowl of ice cream, she tried to ease her troubled mind with a careful step-by-step analysis. The pictures were definite proof that the defendant in her case was not guilty, but what should she do with them? Obviously, the ethical and moral answer was to present the new evidence to the judge and the defense attorney, and then bow out gracefully by making a motion for dismissal. She also knew that wasn’t going to happen. She’d look like a fool! The case was in the bag. With all the evidence she’d presented, the jury would have to be insane to return anything but a guilty verdict. Even the defense attorney knew it and had been urging his client to take a plea. So far, Ethan had vehemently refused, adamantly maintaining his innocence and now she knew why. If things continued as they were, Mariana Clark, Lincoln County District Attorney, would win her first significant case; decisively and convincingly, in rather grand fashion; an impressive success in her burgeoning career.
    But allowing the case to proceed would mean sending an innocent man to prison. Could she live with that? She could, she decided. She’d have to. Making her final decision, Mariana abruptly slid the pack of photos into a larger Manila envelope. Pulling open the bottom drawer of the closest filing cabinet, she buried the evidence in the back. Then with a dramatic flair, she slammed the door shut. No one would ever need to know. Monday morning she’d show up in court and take the win. She deserved it. No small time murderer was going to jeopardize her career!
     
    ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
     
    Reliving the events of sixteen years ago, Mariana was startled by the striking of her own grandfather clock, a guilt purchase acquired as a memento of the Rafferty case. Blinking her eyes, she smiled bleakly at the edginess she felt. The nervousness was all so silly. She had nothing to worry about. The odds that Ethan would come directly to her