Chapter 1: The verdict

Judge Chambers looked around the Courtroom while tidying up his desk, gathering the pages of evidence from the Trial. Clearing his throat, he looked down at the notes in his hand and then said clearly, "on the 15th of October this year, during an early morning ride along the boundary of his property, Mr Standing's horse reared and bolted. Unable to regain control of his horse, Mr Standing fell, hitting his head on a rock, killing him instantly". The Judge looked at Quinn, compassion in his eyes; he trained his sights on the people in the Courtroom, his eyes roaming around the room. "I have examined all evidence regarding the circumstances of the fall and death of Harold Standing, and I have reached a verdict. My verdict is death by misadventure."

The Courtroom erupted with sound. Voices raised in shock and disbelief.

"Order!" "I will have order in my court," The Judge bellowed as he slammed his gavel down. The loud crack of the gavel and his booming voice pierced through the chatter in the Courtroom, temporarily silencing the noisy crowd. While the shouting and comments slowed then quietened, the angry tension in the group simmered. Judge Carter looked around the packed Courtroom, eyes narrowed, daring anyone to make a sound.

"Miss Standing, I am sorry for the tragic loss of your Father; I have determined, based on the evidence, his death was due to an unintentional accident without any violation of law or criminal negligence. As there is no crime, there can be no charges brought against you, and you are free to go." Having delivered his verdict and addressed Quinn directly, the Judge stood and left the room in a flurry of black robes. The crowd finally reached boiling point, their ugly comments spilling over and onto each other. Quinn couldn't make sense of each person's words, but the conversations around her were thick with judgment and assertions of her guilt.

While the crowd's words were hard to understand, their body language was clear as a bell. The verdict changed nothing in their eyes or hearts. The Trial might be over, but it would never be over for her. The people in this Town would hold onto their opinion of her guilt forever, immovable as a mountain.

Quinn remained standing, staring at the empty Judge's bench. She should feel relief or joy, but she didn't. Quinn's legs were trembling, her heart beating wildly while her face remained passive. The crowd would not have the satisfaction of seeing how deeply she was affected; they deserved nothing but her contempt after turning their backs on her, choosing to believe her capable of wilfully murdering her father, her father.

Quinn wasn't sure who she despised the most now, them for turning their backs on her or her for caring they had. They scrutinised her with blame in their eyes, ugly words in their mouths, shunning her when she was near them. People Quinn had known her whole life, friends, and neighbours, had abandoned her. When she needed their support the most, they had turned away from her, leaving her alone to grieve the loss of her beloved Father.

He was dead. The verdict couldn't change that fact. Nor would being exonerated change that she was alone; the one person who truly loved and supported her was gone. The reality of her situation hit hard, and she sank back onto her hard wooden seat behind the Prosecutor's desk before her shaking legs betrayed her.

"Quinn."

"Quinn?". Quinn heard her name called softly and turned toward the speaker, Sam Madison, her attorney. She had been wrong when she said everyone had turned their backs on her; Sam had stayed with her from the beginning, from the worst day of her life; Quinn couldn't forget the fierce, uncompromising way in which Sam had defended her against the charge of murdering her father. The arresting Constable had stayed too, in his way; she wouldn't forget the compassion and kindness he had shown her and the quiet support he offered throughout the Trial.

Quinn watched in silence as Sam gathered her remaining things, including her journal, the one she carried everywhere with her. The journal with its well-worn cover and pieces of scrap paper randomly slotted between its timeworn pages was important. It contained information on all her cases and something more valuable to her than gold, contact details for those she considered friends or resources, or in some cases, both.

As she collected her items from the desk, her long dark curly hair fell around her face hiding her scrutiny of Quinn; she was worried about her. She was so quiet, different from the way she was before the death of her Father when she had been so full of life and energy. Sam knew it wasn't just the accusations against her that broke Quinn's heart; it was because Mary Fielding had been her accuser. Mary had been a close friend of Quinn's mother; actually, both her parents, their two families were constant companions.

When she was born, their mothers had planned a wedding between Mary's son Joshua and Quinn to unite them as a family - not just friends or business associates. After Quinn's mother died when she was just four, her Mary had stepped in, treating her as a daughter, providing the love and guidance she was missing. Sam knew that Mary had not spoken to Quinn after her father's death, refusing to look her way during his funeral, nor had she visited her in the Jail. Mary, and the rest of her family, had shunned Quinn; only Joshua had attended the Courthouse and only once for the verdict.

Sam wasn't sure whether Joshua and Quinn had been courting, but they had been close friends; Quinn had trusted Joshua; it was to him she had run for help and comfort when her father had died. Joshua told his mother what Quinn had told him; Mary then used Quinn's words to discredit her, introducing doubt about her version of the accident. The townspeople believed her, knowing how close she was to Quinn and her father.

Quinn had never asked Mary why she thought her capable of murder and why she convinced the Town of the same, but Sam had; Mary, supported by her husband, refused to answer her, confirming her suspicions something wasn't right.

Immediately after the verdict, Sam looked at Joshua, curious about his reaction; his face turned ashen at the outcome; Sam realised Joshua was devastated at the news but wasn't sure why. Was it because he realised, he had let Quinn down or something more sinister? Sam knew there was an ulterior motive for the accusations against Quinn, but not what it was. The usual reasons, money, and revenge didn't appear valid in this case. If Quinn had been found guilty of murdering her father, his estate would have gone to his brother as Quinn was an only child. The Fielding's were wealthy. There had never been the slightest rumour of discord between the families, which would rule out revenge. Sam knew she was missing something; she didn't know what it was.

Quinn could sense Sam observing her out of the corner of her eye and, she looked down at her folded hands; she knew Sam was concerned about her silence. She couldn't help it; she had spent all her energy controlling her emotions throughout the Trial, so now she didn't know how to release them.

"Quinn, we need to go now." "It's time to leave," stated Sam quietly.

Quinn looked at Sam, looked into her eyes. Sam always looked at her and saw her, not a case, not a criminal; her. Sometimes knowing Sam saw behind the mask she held up for everyone else was disconcerting, but not this time. This time Quinn was glad. Quinn had only had that same connection to one other person, Joshua Fielding. Thinking about Joshua disturbed and confused her. Trying to understand his actions, how he could have turned his back on her, got Quinn nowhere, and she was no closer to understanding. Why would he twist her words? Quinn thought back over their friendship, trying to identify what she could have done to make his family hate her.

Quinn's thoughts were interrupted by Sam's light touch on her arm, and she blinked, coming back to the present; Sam smiled gently at her while tilting her head towards the door, indicating they needed to go. Quinn nodded in understanding and looked away from Sam towards the exit. She saw that the Courtroom was empty, she hadn't heard everyone leave, but that wasn't surprising. She was glad she wouldn't have to look at anyone as they left the room; she needed time and space to gather herself.

Quinn silently followed Sam from the Courtroom and out into the bright spring day, she assumed they would go to Sam's Office, so when Sam turned left, steering them in the opposite direction, she was surprised. There weren't many shops or businesses to the left of the Courthouse, just the Judge's chambers in the Council building and the Mountie office, which also contained the Town Jail. Quinn couldn't imagine why they would need to go to any of them, and she was not going back to the Mountie office. The Mountie Office, which held the Jail, filled Quinn with anxiety. Never had something made her feel so terrified; the thought of seeing the jail cell, hearing the door clanging shut behind her, being trapped inside the cage of steel bars again, sent shivers like icy fingers running down her spine.

Quinn halted on the boardwalk outside the Courthouse, stepping back into the shadows of its imposing structure. "Where are we going, Sam?" she asked. "I just want to go home; "Please."

Sam looked at her. Quinn knew that Sam understood why she felt that way but could see the apology in Sam's eyes before she spoke. "I am sorry, Quinn," she said gently, "but the Judge must sign off on your paperwork before he leaves town."

Quinn stubbornly shook her head no, her sun-streaked honey brown curls swirling around her small, stiff shoulders. "Surely I don't need to be there to watch him sign the papers?"

Sam sighed patiently, "You're right; you don't need to be there for the signing, but someone is waiting there for us, and I want you to meet him; No, I need you to meet him." Quinn crossed her arms across her chest and looked at Sam, her almond-shaped, hazel-coloured eyes filling with angry unshed tears.

"Who is it, Sam?" she asked sadly. "Surely this can wait until tomorrow or next week; Her unshed tears threatened to fall; Quinn felt a dull aching in her heart; she spent was utterly spent. She put her head down and tried to gather herself, collect her thoughts and emotions. She felt Sam's arm come around her trembling shoulders, drawing her into a warm embrace.

Sam was calm when she said, "I understand how you're feeling, Quinn, I do, and I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't important." "Will you trust me?" she pleaded quietly.

Quinn did trust her; she was one of the only people she did trust right now, but even so, she didn't want to meet some stranger. "Who do you want me to meet and why? I am not going anywhere until you tell me." Quinn stated firmly, stepping back out of the hug. Quinn again crossed her arms over her chest; this time, it was in determination, not fear.

"I want you to meet an old friend of mine; his name is Bill Avery." "I met Bill during one of my first Trials. The Town's widows, from Coal Valley, now Hope Valley, took the mining company responsible for the death of their husbands to court over covering-up safety concerns, which resulted in the death of over 70 men. Bill was the forensic investigator looking into the matter."

Sighing, Sam took a deep breath, "I want you to meet Bill for two reasons, first because he is a thorough and skilled investigator and ex Mountie, who became a Judge and when you are ready, I want you to talk to him about what happened with your father." "Secondly," Sam paused and looked nervously at Quinn, clearly unsure whether to finish her sentence.

"Just say it, Sam," Quinn said.

In a rush of breath, Sam said, "I was hoping you would listen to an opportunity he has available for you."

Quinn sputtered incredulously, "an opportunity? What is it? and why would you think I would accept it?"

Sam looked at her pleadingly and said, "I am not saying you should accept, just hear him out," and then she smiled somewhat artfully to make Quinn smile, "and once you meet him, he won't be a stranger."

Quinn shook her head, trying to hide her amusement at that last comment; she appreciated what Sam was trying to do to lift her mood and couldn't deny what she said; no one is a stranger once you have met them.

Quinn knew deep down Sam was introducing her to this man from a genuine desire to help her, so her reluctance had nothing to do with Sam's motives. She knew she owed Sam for her loyalty and support throughout her ordeal; Sam was more than just her Lawyer; they were friends. Before this all began, Quinn had worked with Sam after graduating from her Alma Mater, Stanford University. Quinn used her Economics degree to help Sam run her legal practice and assist the Town council. Quinn knew she would never do anything to hurt her. Quinn's hesitation was due to not wanting to expose herself to another person who might want to judge her. She was so tired of being judged by others.

"Please, Quinn, will you trust me one more time?" asked Sam gently. "I would never do anything I thought would hurt you. I just want...".

Quinn reached out a hand to Sam, touching her hand softly, stopping her midsentence. "It's okay, Sam," she smiled, barely. "I trust you; you are the only person I do trust right now." "If you think I should meet your Bill Avery, I will."

Sam laughed "he is not my Bill Avery, but he is a good man, you'll see. Whatever you do, don't let the outside fool you; his bark is much worse than his bite!". "Come on," Sam said, "you two can get acquainted while I get the Judge to sign off on the final documents." She watched as Quinn shook her head, a tiny grin forming on her face at Sam's upbeat tone. Sam reached out and took Quinn's arm, guiding her toward the Council building and Bill Avery.