Doug had left, and Tom wandered the apartment, contemplating how he could try something different this night to sleep, when his cell phone rang. He answered, "Doug, go home! I told you…"

"Tom? It's Scott Hayden."

Tom stood frozen, the phone to his ear, and swallowed hard.

"The jury's back. Court meets at ten tomorrow morning."

It was a long night. The knowledge that the verdict was in…that this would soon be over one way or another…did little to ease Tom's restless mind. In between waking from the dreams, he managed to get what he figured amounted to about 2 hours of sleep. He ate a small breakfast, afraid of both eating too little and too much, but living with his mother had turned the morning meal into a habit, and so he ate. As he grabbed his car keys on the way out the door, he was once again grateful that he had already moved back into his apartment. Whatever happened this morning, he knew he was going to want to retreat back home later to deal with it alone.

Tom took his seat in the courtroom just as he had every other day…between his mother and Doug. Captain Fuller sat on the other side of Doug. Dr. Hirsch had asked if Tom wanted him there for the verdict, but Tom had politely declined. He didn't know how he was going to react, but he knew one thing…he was going to stay in control of his emotions.

Tom watched as Lee Eckert was brought in. The man looked as calm and as sure of himself as he ever had. Judge Andrews asked the defendant to stand and then asked the jury if they had reached a verdict. The foreman answered that they had. Tom's mother reached over and took his hand.

"On the charge of kidnapping in the first degree, how do you find the defendant?" asked the judge.

The foreman replied, "Not guilty."

How's that feel, you fucking nark?

"On the charge of aggravated assault, how do you find the defendant?"

"Not guilty."

Ain't that somethin'?! You fucked me; now I'm fucking you!

"On the charge of aggravated sexual assault, how do you find the defendant?"

"Not guilty."

You enjoyed that, didn't you, you little pervert?

Judge Andrews thanked the jury for their service and then said, "Mr. Eckert, you are free to go. Court is dismissed."

Tom was reeling inside from the words that were spinning in his head and in his ears. His world quickly narrowed down to the spot on the floor in front of him. His eyes were focused on that spot, and everything else around him became nothing more than a dense fog. He did not hear the chorus of surprised "ooooo's" and disappointed "ohhhh's" that came from the crowd in the courtroom. He did not hear his mother's gasp or Doug's curse. He did not see Lee Eckert stand and hug his attorney, Rosa Sheffield, then make his way with her through the courtroom on their way outside to talk to the reporters gathered there. He did not feel Doug as he stood up and moved protectively between Tom and Eckert at the defendant went by, glancing over at the group with a smile and a small wave.

But as the courtroom cleared out, the fog began to lift and Tom realized his mother still had a hold on his hand and sat silently beside him. He could hear Doug and Fuller talking as they stood next to him, the captain's cell phone ringing incessantly as he refused to answer it. And he heard Scott Hayden's voice in front of him, apologizing.

Tom took a deep breath and shook his head a little. He swallowed hard, then turned to look at his mother. He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly, whispering in her ear, "It's okay…everything's okay." He let her go and stood up to face the D.A. Hayden had a devastated look on his face, and Tom saw tears in the man's eyes. Tom smiled at him. "You did your best. It's okay. I know you did everything you could. Thank you."

Hayden nodded appreciatively but didn't trust himself enough to be able to speak without losing it. He had become very emotionally invested in this case despite knowing how unprofessional it was. But he had really wanted to win this one. This case, more than any other he had ever prosecuted, represented for him a clear case of good versus evil, and the good guys had lost. He had lost. But more importantly, Tom had lost. Hayden watched as Tom held his hand out, and as he went to shake it his eyes fell upon the jagged scar that encircled the young man's wrist. He grasped the hand and shook it, raising his eyes to meet Tom's and then uttering "I'm sorry" again before quickly turning away, busying himself by gathering his papers up as he tried to keep his composure.

Doug and Fuller now had their attention on Tom, telling him that they too were sorry. Doug looked toward the back of the room where Eckert had exited and said, "Don't worry…he'll get what's coming to him," and this time Fuller did not caution him about making public threats.

"It's okay, guys…really," said Tom. "It's what I expected. It's okay." The others looked at him doubtfully. "Really," he repeated. "Come on…let's go." He took his mother's hand and helped her to her feet before putting his arm around her and heading for the exit."

"Tom, you might want to…" he heard Hayden say.

"I'll do it," Fuller said as he moved past Tom and his mother.

"What?" asked Doug.

Hayden directed his attention back to his briefcase, moving papers here and there. "Reporters," he said quietly.

"Oh," said Doug. As they waited for Fuller to come back and let them know it was clear outside, Doug said to Tom, "So…uh…what are you gonna…I mean…are you just gonna go home?"

"Yeah," Tom answered. His mother gave him a look but said nothing. "I'll be okay."

"Maybe I can come by later?"

"Not today, Doug, okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, sure," said Doug.

An awkward silence ensued as they waited until Fuller finally came back announcing that it was clear for them to leave, but he still suggested that they use the side exit.

Margaret Hanson turned the hot water on as far as it would go to warm up her dishwater that had grown tepid. When the water was warm again, she turned off the faucet and pulled a plate from the sink, washing and then rinsing it before picking up a towel to dry it. But the dish slipped from her shaky hands, falling to the kitchen floor and breaking into four neat pieces. She stared at the broken plate for a moment before reaching into the sink and pulling out another one that she lifted slightly and then threw to the floor, watching it shatter on top of the first plate. She pulled out a third plate and threw it down as well before she leaned against the counter, her face in her hands, and began to cry.

D.A. Scott Hayden took a swig from the bottle of Scotch and then set it down on his desk next to the cardboard box he was slowly filling with papers. He picked up two more files and glanced at them briefly to make sure they belonged in the box and then set them inside. He needed to make sure, but he didn't want to actually have to look closely at them. He didn't need to. He knew what was in them. He picked up another pile of loose papers and files, shuffled through them, and put them in the box as well. He took another drink from the bottle and then put the lid on the box. He sealed the lid securely with clear packing tape, then sighed heavily before picking up a thick, black marker and writing a case number on the side of the box, then "State v. Eckert" in bold, block letters. He set the box in the corner for the courier to pick up and take to the warehouse and then returned to his desk and the bottle.

Doug Penhall threw his right fist out and felt it connect hard with his target. He landed another blow with his right before doing the same with his left. It wasn't enough. Overcome with rage, he began to punch furiously over and over again. He would not be satisfied until his opponent was lying pummeled to death on the ground, but the heavy punching bag still hung in front of him, swinging back and forth, taunting him. Breathing heavily, he pulled his right fist back again, this time throwing an uppercut followed by another with his left. The sweat flew off his face as he danced around the bag, assaulting it from every angle, but he simply couldn't do it enough damage. Once again he began to punch furiously, alternating lefts and rights until he finally fell against the bag, arms around it, exhausted. Defeated.

Captain Adam Fuller stood nodding in Detective Mark Michaels' office. "Yeah…yeah, I understand."

"I'm sorry, Adam," said the detective. "Believe me, I tried every angle and called in every favor I have, but there's no legal reason for us to put a tail on Eckert. He's clean right now, and up until…"

"I know," Fuller interrupted, "he hasn't made a single move or threat toward Hanson. So far."

Michaels sighed. "Look, maybe he's done. Maybe he got what he wanted. He's put that kid through hell and back a hundred different times and ways. And he got away with it. Anything beyond that…from now on…he knows he doesn't have a chance."

"Would that help you sleep at night if you were Hanson right now? With Eckert out there free and clear?"

"Nope." Michaels shook his head. "But he's going back to work soon, right? Maybe things will start to get better for him…more normal then, and he can start to put this behind him."

"Maybe," said Fuller. "Anyway, you're still going to…"

"Yes, we're still going to put a watch on his house…and his mom's…for awhile at least…and see how things go."

"Thank you, Mark."

Tom jumped as the phone rang. He laughed a little at himself. He wasn't nervous, he told himself. But the phone broke the silence he had been sitting in all afternoon. He was surprised, actually. He had expected everyone to be calling and checking on him, but so far this was the first call he had received. Curiosity got the best of him, and he answered the phone.

"Hi Tom. It's Dr. Hirsch."

"Hi," said Tom. "You heard?"

"Yeah, I did. How are you doing?"

"I'm okay."

"I'm not going to push you on that, Tom," said Hirsch, "but I do want to see you…either tonight or in the morning."

Tom hesitated. "I don't know…"

"If you say you're all right, then we'll wait until tomorrow, but we do need to talk, okay?"

Tom sighed but did not answer.

"You know you can't go back to work until you're cleared by me, right?" continued Hirsch. "And that's not happening until I see you again." When he got no answer, he asked, "Tom?"

"Yeah…yeah…okay. In the morning. What time?"

"10:00?"

"I'll see you then," said Tom.

After hanging up the phone, Tom wandered the apartment some more, wondering what to do. He tried to read, but couldn't concentrate. He tried listening to music, but it only irritated him. He couldn't for the life of him remember what he had ever spent time doing in this place before…just…before. He took one more phone call that evening, talking to Fuller about the watch that was going to be put into place. He also assured the captain that he was ready to come back to work and that he would be seeing the psychologist in the morning. After that, he settled into what had become his routine the past couple of days…trying to find a place and a way to sleep.

"How was your night?" asked Dr. Hirsch.

Tom looked at the man, knowing there was no sense in trying to fool him. "Crappy."

The doctor nodded. "I figured as much. You look like you haven't had any sleep. Do you need some medication?"

Tom shook his head.

"I think it might help you get some rest. How are you going to work if you can't sleep?"

"It…it just…I took some the other night, and…I went to sleep, but I still had the dreams. And then…I couldn't wake up. I couldn't get away." Tom looked down at his hands that were gripping his knees as he sat across from Hirsch.

"Okay…well, we can try something else. There are a lot of options. We'll find something that works for you." Hirsch studied the young man in front of him for a moment before saying, "Tom, I'm sorry. About the trial. It shouldn't have ended that way."

Tom nodded without looking up. "Yeah…but it did."

"How do you feel about it?"

Tom shrugged. "I just have to deal with it. Like everything else."

"Yes, I guess you do," said Hirsch. "But how does it make you feel?"

"How do you think?" Tom laughed a little. "It makes me mad. It makes me sick. It makes me…I just want to know…how does that happen? How do…I mean, I arrest people all the time…what's the point then if they just let them go again?"

"The perils of the system."

"Yeah, well…the system sucks. This guy…look what he did…to a cop…and he gets off like nothing happened. He sits up there and lies and I tell the truth and it doesn't matter."

"Tom, what happened…what they did…," said Hirsch. "It doesn't matter if they believed him. You know the truth, and so does everyone else who counts. It doesn't matter if they didn't believe you."

Tom sniffed and said something so quietly that the doctor had to ask him to repeat it. Tom looked up at him. "They believed me."

"What?"

"I saw them. On the news. They talked to some of the jury members, and they said…they said they believed me…there just wasn't any proof."

"Oh," said Hirsch. "Well…does that make it any easier for you to accept it?"

Tom shook his head. "It's worse. They believed everything I said this bastard did to me and they still let him go. What the fuck kind of justice is that?!"

"Listen, Tom…"

Tom stood up and reached for his jacket. "Look…I uh…I gotta go."

"We aren't done, Tom," said Hirsch.

"Yeah…uh…I've got some things I need to get done today. I'll uh…I'll call you later, okay?"

The doctor watched as Tom left the office without waiting for an answer.

I know! I know! Some of you want to kill me! I'm sorry, but it's the way it had to be...for now. Just trust me and hang in there, okay? I really, really appreciate everyone who is still reading and especially reviewing! It helps a lot to get feedback on how you're feeling about the story. So let me know what you think! And thanks again! :-)