Chapter 6

Last night, I booked a hotel and made do with a night outside.

I instinctively avoided anything that might stir up emotions and mess with my judgment, giving my stressed-out mind a chance to chill for a bit.

The next morning, I woke up and headed back home, changing into a set of black clothes.

The request I made to Leonard over the phone the night before was to attend the hearing as a victim's family member.

I lay on the couch, resting with my eyes closed. The afternoon hearing was crucial, and I needed to be fully focused on the witnesses' statements.

Yesterday's news summary showed that the class reunion was a complete fabrication, and the materials for the forestry bureau's year-end review had been completed last month.

So, what was the connection between Alan's unusual behavior lately and his accident?

I had a nagging feeling that these pieces of information were too neat, and that the investigation was going too smoothly, but ultimately, it was just suspicion without any solid clues.

The sky was gloomy, and the weeping willows outside the window couldn't resist the autumn wind, bowing and swaying their desolate branches as if in apology.

Leaves fell to the ground, driven by the autumn wind, like half-dead drunks, fluttering and stopping, eventually freezing to death in the winter.

Unlike the verdant willows of spring that danced in the breeze, a single leaf falling to the ground signified an end. The shared essence of life and time was marked by their relentless cruelty.

Every time it got cloudy, I felt down. Alan often said I was a sensitive person at heart. Then I would joke that if a sentimental person were to work in law, they might be better off writing romance dramas.

Above the couch, there was a collection of Emily Dickinson's poems that Alan often read.

Alan was a typical idealist, living a simple life with a rich spiritual world. He liked reading poetry, which I didn't understand, but I knew that poetry had little market in the country, barely surviving.

"The market can't explain everything. Of course, I'm not contradicting you, Nancy," Alan said thoughtfully, looking up. "Everyone will encounter it at a special time, either at the end of time or in the darkest moment. A line of poetry is like a lamp, reigniting their life. Of course, I hope you never understand poets or poetry. Whether a reader or a poet, they are always in pain."

I picked up the poetry collection, and one page was folded by Alan. The poem was very short.

[My life closed twice before its close-

It yet remains to see

If Immortality unveil

A third event to me,

So huge, so hopeless to conceive

As these that twice befell.

Parting is all we know of heaven,

And all we need of hell.]

Emily was Alan's favorite poet, a woman who spent almost thirty years in seclusion, accompanied by loneliness.

Alan liked reading poetry. According to him, being forced into rational work dulled one's emotions. Therefore, he occasionally read poetry to me before bed.

He had read this poem to me. Honestly, I couldn't grasp its depth. Looking back now, when Alan read this poem, he seemed to carry a deep sense of loneliness and sorrow.

I didn't know what resonance he shared with this poet and wondered if there was something in his past that he was hiding from me.

I suddenly thought that my husband seemed to be growing more distant from me, somewhat unfamiliar.

It was already 1:30 PM, and the hearing was at 2:30 PM. I couldn't afford to think too much. I changed into black clothes, quickly tidied up, and drove off.

I deliberately arrived half an hour early. Instead of sitting in the audience, I stood in a corner of the courtroom, took out a pair of sunglasses from my pocket, and observed the participants, hoping to find some clues, especially from Mike, Bob, and Frank. My suspicions about them hadn't been dispelled.

As the hearing got closer, I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, but then I saw a familiar face-my apprentice, Zoey.

She was looking around with a camera and spotted me right away. She ran over with red eyes and hugged me tight. "Mrs. Smith, I don't know how to comfort you. The boss said we should give you some space and let you take it easy for a while, but I can't help it. I'm really worried about you."

Zoey, a 22-year-old law intern from Silverlight University, was smart, had good writing skills, and solid professional knowledge, so I took her under my wing.

I was an only child and didn't have many friends, but somehow, Zoey and I had clicked over the past six months, and I'd come to see her as a sister.

Having dealt with the pain alone these past few days, I was really touched by her concern. I patted her shoulder and said, "I'm fine."

Zoey said, "Mrs. Smith, I want to stay with you for a few days."

I replied, "We'll talk about it later. Go sit down; the hearing is about to start."

With that, I walked straight to the audience seat, and the hearing officially began.

The presiding judge, associate judges, jurors, clerk, and prosecutor entered in sequence. This case was a big deal, and it was presided over by the first court of Silverlight City.

The jury had seven people, and the presiding judge was Stephen Jackson, a man in his forties with a stern face, known for his seriousness. He was an experienced criminal judge and a member of the judicial committee. The government was really taking this matter seriously.

The prosecutor was my former boss from the district attorney's office, Leonard. Leonard noticed me and glanced in my direction. I thought for a moment and then greeted him with a nod.

Having the deputy district attorney act as the prosecutor was rare in public prosecution cases. The prosecutor's office was also giving a lot of attention to this case. But personally, this was my husband's case, and I appreciated the gesture.

I felt slightly relieved as Stephen announced the True Love Entertainment Club Arson and Murder Case was officially in session and called the defendant to the court.

This was my first time seeing Laura in person again after ten years of my marriage. Laura seemed a few years younger than Alan, probably in her early thirties.

Time hadn't left any marks on her. She looked the same as ten years ago. Her features weren't particularly delicate, but together, they exuded a natural charm, especially her eyes, filled with wildness, desire, and a hint of ruthlessness.

Escorted by the bailiff, she slowly walked to the defendant's seat, looking around.

I had seen this scene before. In the university drama club, when she took center stage as the lead actress and took her bow, she had the same expression.

I slowly took off my sunglasses and met her gaze. At that moment, I no longer suppressed my emotions, like venomous tongues of fire, ready to engulf her.

Our gaze met briefly, yet she didn't linger, as if she had never seen me before, but the slight smile at the corner of her mouth was caught by me.

I thought, 'The experiences at the police station these past few days haven't affected her at all. Is her mental strength really that strong? If she could commit such inhumane acts, what couldn't she do?'

Thinking of this, a chill ran through me.

After Stephen read out the charges and rights against Laura, Leonard began to accuse her of the arson and murder at the Entertainment Club.

"Honorable Judge, Prosecutor." Laura held her head high, looked directly at Stephen, and said firmly, "I am not guilty!"