Chapter 10

A/N: Grateful thanks to all those who read and reviewed. I hope you enjoy the final chapter.

Seth was stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce and keeping a weather eye on the noodles while Jessica tossed a salad for them. The trip to Boston had been good for her, but her burgeoning confidence appeared to be eroding in the face of their trip to New York. This interview was looming large in her mind, and, not for the first time, he wished there was something more he could do. He glanced at her, noting the preoccupied look on her face.

"Anything on your mind, Jess?" asked Seth mildly.

She turned toward him, a wan smile on her face. "Is it that obvious?"

"You've been fairly quiet all afternoon."

"I'm sorry," said Jessica hastily.

"No need to apologize, woman! All the same, if there's anything on your mind, well...I'm happy to lend an ear."

"I've been thinking about…well, about the future. About what I want. What we might want. Together." Seth stared at her intently. "You know I never intended to become a published author."

"A-yuh," he said carefully.

"If it hadn't been for Grady…" She laughed self-deprecatingly. "I don't think I ever would have considered submitting my novel for publication. I don't think it would have occurred to me. It was something I did to occupy my mind during that first winter. That's all."

Seth nodded. He knew all too well the lengths and breadths of grief.

"But he did," Jessica continued. "And I went along with it. I was…curious, I suppose."

Seth allowed the quiet to grow between them. He grabbed a pair of potholders and drained the water from the noodles. Jessica turned and began tossing the salad again. "I really thought the first book was a fluke," she said quietly, then looked at Seth. "I really did."

Seth smiled. "You've always been too modest, woman. But I can't say it isn't one of my favorite of your many sterling qualities."

Jessica laughed quietly as she pulled two plates and bowls from the cabinet. She handed Seth the plates, then she turned to fill their bowls with salad. "I wasn't sure I could write another book."

"And now you've written six," said Seth proudly. He spooned sauce onto their noodles and carried both plates to the table.

"But I'm not sure I can write another," she said softly. "Not now. Not after…"

Seth looked at her carefully as they both sat down. "How do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, precisely. The actual writing of this book…it was different."

Seth was quiet. He wanted to hear what she had to say; he didn't want to interrupt the flow of her thoughts with his own.

Jessica looked at him apologetically. "I was intrigued by him," she said carefully. "Not in a romantic sense, of course," she added hastily. Seth nodded and covered her hand with his. He felt fairly confident now that she hadn't entertained any such notions about that young man. She turned her palm up and clasped his hand. "I struggled, as you pointed out, but looking back, I think it was because I was resisting the story itself. Does that sound strange?"

Seth barked a laugh. "No stranger than some things I've read in my medical journals lately!" Jessica glanced at him, a curious look on his face. He shook his head. "Never mind. I'll tell you later. All I meant was I think I understand what you're trying to say."

"So many people, readers and journalists, commented about how different this book is. I knew it was, as I was writing it. I'd written a few chapters by the time I arrived in Seattle, and of course he transcribed them."

"I'd forgotten that," mused Seth. "I remember you said he mentioned the difference between the versions."

Jessica looked pensive. "He did. And of course he tried to take credit." She paused. "But…" She trailed off, then looked at Seth. "I'm not so sure he doesn't deserve the credit. I'm not so sure it was me who wrote those words."

Seth's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "Not you? I'd like to know who, then. It surely wasn't that young hustler! You did the work, Jess. You did the hard work of wrestling that idea into the novel it became." He lifted their clasped hands and gestured to her. "You did that, woman," he finished softly. "Don't forget how carefully I've watched you over the years." Jessica laughed, and Seth squeezed her hand before he let it go. "Now let's eat, Jess. Your brain needs fuel if you're ever going to start another book."

She picked up her fork and began twirling pasta around the tines. "But that's just it, Seth. I'm not sure I ever will start another book." She hurried on before he had a chance to interject. "And I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"Yet." Jessica looked at him quizzically, her fork paused in mid-air. "You're not sure how you feel about it yet." He nodded emphatically, then gestured for her to eat her forkful of pasta. "You've got all the time in the world to decide, woman."

Jessica finished chewing and gazed at Seth thoughtfully. "I thought you might be happier if I were to give up writing and traveling," she said lightly.

Seth's glance was grave but his demeanor was calm. "If giving up those things makes you happy, Jess, then yes, of course I'd be happy. I love you, Jess. You…the stubborn, obstinate, independent woman who barrels through life on her own steam." He sighed. "I wasn't always the best husband to Ruthie. I don't think she would agree." He grinned at Jessica. "Much. But," he said, growing serious again, "we were both of a time, just like you and Frank. I fell in love with you almost against my will, Jess." She laughed. "I've been in love with you for quite some time, and in that time I've given this a great deal of thought. The disparity in our finances gave me pause." He held up a hand to forestall her interruption. "But we've worked through that. Would I like to be the one to give you the world, Jessica Fletcher? Of course I would. But we've talked through that, and I'm more able than I was to let that go." She squeezed his arm impulsively. "But I did think long and hard about what it might be like if we were to…" He cleared his throat. "Become a couple. How would I feel if you continued working? Traveling? What did I expect? What did I want?" He held her gaze for a long moment. "And I decided that, if I were ever lucky enough to have a chance with you, that I wanted you, Jessica. Just you as you are. So." He cleared his throat. "Write. Don't write. Travel. Stay in Cabot Cove. Do what you want, and know that I'll be right beside you, in spirit, if not in person."

Jessica dashed tears from her eyes. "Oh, Seth."

Seth grunted. "Eat your dinner, woman."

She smiled, and, chin wobbling, finally ate another forkful of pasta. When she finished chewing, she risked a sideways glance at him, her eyes merry. "I can think of a few other things that require fuel, Dr. Hazlitt," she murmured.

"You'll be the death of me, Mrs. Fletcher, but I'll die a happy man."

They smiled at one another, letting a peaceful silence fill the room.

Seth turned in their bed, rolling over to spoon Jessica, when he gradually came awake to the realization that he was alone in their bed. Sighing, he swung his legs over his side of the bed, slipped into his robe and house shoes and made his way carefully downstairs. As he descended, he saw a bar of light from beneath the kitchen door.

He pushed open the door gently and saw Jessica sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea. Her face creased in dismay as she soon as she noticed him.

"Oh, Seth. I didn't want to wake you."

"You didn't wake me, woman," he said gruffly as he walked over to her. He put a hand on her shoulder. "How are you?"

She smiled ruefully up at him, covering his hand with hers and squeezing. "Can't sleep," she said softly.

"So I gathered," said Seth drily. He smiled as he heard her chuckle. "Worried about New York?" She nodded. "A-yuh."

She glanced at him sharply. "Are you?"

He shook his head. "No, Jess. Not at all. I just figured you might be. That's all." He smoothed a hand across her back and was relieved to feel some of the tension there loosen. "Makes sense," he said softly.

"Want a cup of tea?" asked Jessica abruptly.

"No, thank you." Seth sat down next to her, and she leaned into him. He put an arm around her. "What I mean, Jess, is—"

"I know what you meant," she murmured into his neck. "I am worried. Anxious. David has given so many more interviews than I. Susan is concerned that the impression that David has already made will be very difficult to dislodge from the public's mind…I suppose." She felt Seth stiffen, but mercifully he said nothing. Her heart lifted, as it did any time she saw the effort he was making. He had opinions, strong opinions, but he was trying to take a back seat, as it were, and she loved him all the more for that. In those early days, when she'd first begun entertaining ideas about a relationship, she'd immediately dismissed Seth as a potential candidate. Too stubborn, she'd thought. Too set in his ways. A chauvinist, if she were honest. She hadn't any idea of the depth of his tenderness, his empathy—his capacity for love, even when it cost him. She turned her face to place a gentle kiss on his neck.

"What's this?" asked Seth.

"I love you. That I could imagine. But what I never could have imagined is how much you love me."

Seth stared down at her for a long moment, then kissed her gently. "I always will," he rumbled.

She squeezed his hand and sat up. "What time is it?"

Seth glanced at the clock on the wall. "3:45."

Jessica groaned. "It's probably not even worth trying to go back to sleep."

"What do you have on for today, woman?"

"A couple of calls…one long one with Susan and some of the other media consultants. They want to go over some last minute details. Then I suppose I ought to pack," she said. "What about you, Seth?"

"Tom's going to meet me at the office. There are just a few patient files I need to go over with him. Beverly scheduled my last patient at 1:00 today, so I'll be home sometime around 3, if not before." Jessica didn't think she'd ever tire of hearing Seth refer to Candlewood Lane as home. "Hungry, Jess? I could whip us up some eggs and toast. Freshen up your tea?"

"I should be cooking for you, darling. You have to work today!"

"A-yuh, and so do you." He stood and placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. "Let me cook breakfast, Jess. I hear it's the most important meal of the day."

Jessica smiled wanly, and looked up at him. "I do love you, Seth."

"And who could blame you, woman?" He winked at her, then gestured at himself. "All this, and he cooks, too." He was relieved when she really did laugh this time. He didn't like to wish his life away, and he certainly never wanted to wish time with Jessica away, but he kept repeating to himself: Another 72 hours and this next hard thing will be over.

Seth whistled as he followed Jessica into their suite. "Holy smokes, Jess," he murmured. "This is very nice."

Jessica was quiet until the bell hop deposited their bags in the bedroom, Seth's tip deep in his pocket, and closed the door behind him. She turned to face Seth.

"I think Vaughn's very pleased," she said quietly, "about the sale of the book," and Seth saw her face begin to crumple. He had her in his arms in a moment.

"I'm sorry, Jess. I can only imagine how hard this is."

"You'll think me silly," she murmured.

"Never," said Seth quietly in her ear.

She was quiet for a long moment. "I resent how much credit is given to David for the success of my book," she burst.

Seth tightened his hold on her. He was glad to hear some anger directed toward that dangerous young man. For weeks now, she'd been holding herself responsible for his actions. Seth hoped this was the beginning of true healing.

"A-yuh," he agreed. "I can understand that. I've seen you put a few of these books together now. It's hard work." He smiled as he felt some of the tension in her arms and shoulders melt. He rubbed her back, the late afternoon sun creating pools of golden light in the living room.

After a few moments, Jessica drew apart from him. "This will be a busy few days, Seth."

He smiled at her. "Don't you worry about me, woman. I'll be as quiet as a church mouse."

She laughed, a genuine belly laugh that delighted him. "There's a first time for everything."

He grinned, then glanced at his watch. "What's next on the agenda, Jess?"

"Tonight we're having dinner with Vaughn and his wife, Olga. She's a lovely woman; I think you'll enjoy meeting her."

"I look forward to it! Where will we meet them?"

"Vaughn said he made a reservation for us at seven in the restaurant downstairs. That way," she smiled ruefully. "We won't have to leave the hotel unless we want to." Jessica turned to face the window and hugged herself. "The interview will take place here."

"A-yuh," said Seth softly, then he walked up behind her, putting his arms around her. "I wonder what Barbara will want to ask me about." Jessica laughed; Seth kissed her neck. "I suppose she'll want to know the important things: what size waders you wear, whether you snore." He laughed as Jessica elbowed him playfully. "Like a freight train." He squeezed her around the middle, and she covered his hands with hers.

"Our reservation is for seven o'clock," she said softly.

"So you said." He placed another gentle kiss on her neck. "It's just gone three o'clock, woman," he murmured. "You don't have any meetings, do you?" He kissed her neck again. "Any phone calls?"

Jessica shivered. "No. I had thought of making an appointment for the spa." She turned smoothly in his arms. "A massage might be nice."

Seth walked his fingers across her shoulders and down her back as he put his lips to her ear. "Did you know that happens to be one of my specialties?"

Jessica leaned into Seth's embrace, feeling the tightness in her shoulders relax as his strong fingers kneaded those taut muscles. After a few moments, she drew back and took his hand in hers, and they walked into the bedroom together.

A sliver of moon shone through the drapes. He'd have gotten up to close them completely, but Jessica had just fallen asleep and he didn't want to disturb her.

He was surprised by how much he'd enjoyed dinner. Jessica was right; Olga was delightful and she and Vaughn made an interesting couple. Vaughn was witty, urbane, but he had a relaxed, comfortable air that put Seth at ease immediately. Olga had been a dancer; she was lithe, willowy, and whip smart. No wonder Jessica was so fond of her. Of them both.

He was also pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he felt; they were delightful hosts. He thought it might be awkward…Jessica's publisher being obligated to entertain her…what would he call himself? Her lover? Bah. Too European. Her boyfriend? Pfft. They weren't teenagers. At least not chronologically. What was the term he'd read just the other day…significant other. That certainly was a mouthful, even if it did fit better than any others. He wanted to be her husband, and he'd mastered almost all his doubts about her wanting the same.

Jessica murmured something in her sleep, and he tightened his arm around her and spooned in just that much closer, feeling her relax in his arms. He took a long, slow breath, savoring the smell of her shampoo, the silky feel of her gown, and the warm softness that he couldn't seem to get enough of. He was almost embarrassed by his desire for her, but she didn't seem to mind. He smiled wickedly in the dark, remembering her confession the night they'd had their biggest fight to date. I thought perhaps you weren't interested anymore. I wanted to be with you, to make love with you, but you seemed tired or preoccupied. I thought perhaps… He remembered her squeal of delight as he wrapped her in his arms and flipped them so that she was lying on her back, laughing as he peppered her face with kisses. Since then, he'd made a point of complimenting her more often, touching her shoulder or her back, embracing her. At first he was a little worried; he didn't want her to think he was just some lecherous old goat. But he could tell it had made a difference to them both.

In spite of the circumstances, he sighed contentedly. Tomorrow would come, and he would wake with her in his arms or within his reach. He would support her through the interview, the trial, through whatever came next. He belonged to her, completely.

"You're going to be fine. Better than fine, Jess. You've been preparing for weeks. You're ready." Seth stroked her arm reassuringly, but he could feel how tense she was. "I love you."

"I love you," said Jessica, and she put her hand over his. She took a deep breath. She did not want to cry on national television. She straightened her back and pulled her shoulders down and back.

That's my girl, thought Seth as he watched her. It wouldn't be easy, but if anyone could do this, and do it well, it was Jessica.

Susan crept closer to them and reached out a tentative hand. "Jessica? They're ready for you."

Jessica sighed and looked at Seth. He jerked his chin at her and squeezed her hand. "I'll be right here," he said gruffly.

Jessica nodded, then turned to face Susan. "I'm ready, dear," she said in a calm voice that belied her inner turmoil.

"Does the success of this latest book surprise you, Jessica?"

Jessica paused. "Surprise me? I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean this book, in particular, has taken both the fans and the critics by storm. Are you surprised by the critical reaction?"

"I've been pleasantly surprised, yes, by the positive commentary from some very tough readers."

"Readers like Marta James?"

"Yes, I would say she is among the few whose critical opinion of the book surprised and touched me."

"Touched you?"

"Well, it's always nice to have your work appreciated. Elevated, in some sense, by an intelligent person's opinion."

"This book is quite different from your earlier novels, isn't it?"

Jessica shifted slightly in her seat. "Some have commented on that."

"The subject matter is more…adult, perhaps?"

"Well, murder is plenty adult, if you ask me."

"Certainly the book includes murder, but it also includes a fair amount of sex—or at least sexual tension—between the protagonist, Christine Knowles, and Ambrose Pierce, the young, handsome, desirable…well, for the ten or so people who haven't read the book, I won't give any more away."

"Thank you," said Jessica dryly.

"Then there's the real-life component to this fictional story. You met David Tolliver in Seattle, isn't that correct?"

"Yes."

Barbara leaned forward, dangerously warm and empathetic. "Now I know you're under some fairly strict restrictions about the kinds of questions you can and can't answer, but it doesn't appear that young David is under any similar constraints. Bill, would you roll the tape please?"

The magic of television, thought Jessica wildly as she watched the man named Bill wheel one into the cozy interview space. He turned on the television and the VCR, and Jessica watched with mute horror as an image of David appeared onscreen, frozen, until Bill pressed play on the VCR.

You want my impressions of JB Fletcher? Well, she's intelligent, attractive, refined. There's a sort of charisma, a magnetism about her. She's a very compelling woman.

And how would you describe your relationship?

David looked at the camera, clearly amused. Ongoing.

What do you mean by that?

I mean that she'll always be part of my life. And I'll always be part of hers. After all, she memorialized me in her latest book. What does that tell you?

Seth jostled Susan's elbow. "Did you know this was going to happen? Look at her," he hissed.

"We knew it could be ugly," said Susan "It's painful to watch, but ultimately it's good for Jessica."

"Is it?" whispered Seth harshly. "Look at her! She's almost rigid with fear. You've got to get her out of there. You've got to stop the interview."

"Even if I could, I wouldn't." Seth opened his mouth to argue further, but Susan stopped him. "Dr. Hazlitt, it would be much worse if I intervened now. Much worse for her. Better to let this unfold. We practiced. I couldn't get her to watch footage of David, but we did practice." Susan looked at Jessica. "She'll be fine." She continued to watch as Ms. Walters began another round of questioning.

"Looking at that footage, Jessica, what does that tell you?"

Jessica schooled her features as she took a slow, steady breath. "It tells me that he's making a big assumption about the character of Ambrose Pierce."

Barbara looked at her quizzically. "But you must admit, the parallels are quite…striking."

Jessica sat up in her chair, ramrod straight. "You've interviewed many authors, I'm sure. You know that most of us are like magpies…we collect bits of dialogue, eye color, character traits…impressions of many people go into the creation of a character. You have an idea, and it…takes on a life of its own."

"But David Tolliver has given several interviews lately, and in each, he…well, he claims to be the inspiration for Ambrose Pierce. And he claims that you are Christine Knowles."

"That's not correct," said Jessica emphatically.

"It's been reported that he followed you from Seattle to your hometown of Cabot Cove. That he followed you on your most recent book tour."

Jessica fidgeted in her seat. "I'm not at liberty to comment on that."

"Liberty. An interesting word. Liberty. What does it mean to you?"

Jessica looked slightly alarmed. "Liberty?" she repeated. Barbara let the silence spool out between them. "The freedom to act as one chooses. Freedom from constraints."

"And by your definition, you're not free from constraints."

"Not in certain areas."

"But if you listen to David Tolliver's interviews, he claims you were free from constraints. Undoubtedly the character of Christine Knowles was free from certain constraints." Jessica remained quiet. "I understand that you're to testify against this young man."

"That is correct."

"And you, who were at liberty to write a book that could arguably be said to represent real people. You, who benefit financially from the sale of this book. You presumably dispute David's interpretation of those events. Would you agree that you have liberty?"

"Yes."

"Would you agree that David has liberty?"

"He did."

"Yet you won't add anything to your previous statement?"

Jessica held up a finger. "Liberty doesn't absolve one from consequences." She took a breath. "In fact, I would go so far as to say that liberty demands consequences. Real liberty requires them."

Barbara Walters let the silence build for a moment, then she turned to the cameraman. "I think we've got it." She turned to Jessica. "Thank you, Jessica."

Seth had been bouncing on his heels since the footage of David's interview had been played. As soon as Ms. Walters signaled that the interview was over, he rushed to Jessica's side. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him. "Let's go, Jess," he murmured.

Barbara Walters stood as well and extended her hand, but Seth merely glared at her as he steered Jessica out from under the hot lights and out of the room.

As Susan predicted, the interview created a firestorm of additional interest in Jessica and even greater demand for the book. The timing couldn't have been worse. The trial was looming, and everyone felt that any opportunity for the defense to confirm that Seth was living at Jessica's could jeopardize the case against David. Everyone except Jessica.

"Seth Hazlitt, we're not doing anything wrong. It's no one's business but ours."

"In principle, Jess, I agree with you. We're not doing anything wrong. Our relationship is private, not secret. But those distinctions won't matter. Not to the press and not to David's attorneys."

She turned to face him, eyes blazing and chin up. "I won't be separated from you, Seth. And I won't apologize or beg forgiveness or any of the other dozen things anyone asks of me." She took a deep breath. "I'd be too embarrassed anyway."

"Embarrassed?"

She walked over to him. "Yes, embarrassed. I don't want the whole world, and in particular Loretta's ladies, to know you turned down my proposal!"

Seth guffawed and grabbed her in a bear hug. "I didn't exactly turn you down, Jess."

"That distinction won't matter to Eve or Phyllis," she said, laughing quietly. She drew back and stroked his cheek. "I understand you want to protect me. But I have to face this. Unfortunately, we have to face this."

Seth sighed. "I wish I could make it all disappear, Jess."

"I know you do, darling. So do I. But if this defense attorney thinks he can make me feel ashamed of what we are, he's got another thing coming."

Seth kissed her, trying to convey everything he felt for her at that moment. He drew back slowly. "I love you, Jessica."

"I know," she said softly and drew him back into her warm embrace.

Seth waited until Jessica was in the bath, then he quickly dialed Ron's number.

"Hello?"

"Ron, it's Seth."

"Seth! How are you? How's Jessica?"

"We're alright. I suppose you saw the interview?"

"I did. Jessica did a fine job. A helluva job."

"I agree, but it took a lot out of her. The interview itself, and all the attention that came with it."

"What do you need?"

"Ron, I—"

"Just tell me, Doc. Remember, this is for Jessica."

Seth sighed. Ron was right; he just hated the feeling of being beholden to anyone. He wished he could do everything for Jessica, but he knew how unrealistic that was. "You know the trial's coming up," he said quietly.

"Seth," said Ron impatiently. "You know I'll be there. You don't even need to ask!"

Seth cleared his throat. "A-yuh. It's just—"

"I understand. I really do," said Ron quietly. "It's gonna be hell on her, being in the same room with that kid. Having to testify."

"That's just it. I have to testify, too. I can't be in the courtroom with her! The prosecution's already warned us both about what we can expect from the defense attorneys."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean they're going to try to discredit us both. Use our…relationship…against us."

"That's completely irrelevant!"

Seth sighed. "That's exactly what I told the D.A. He dismissed it as a tactic, a ploy by the defense to call Jessica's character into question." He paused for a long moment. "Not for the first time, I wish I'd handled things differently."

"You're not one to cry over spilt milk, Doc. All you have to do now is hold onto your temper during the trial." Seth barked a laugh. "You don't have a choice. Besides, I'll be there watching. Think of the hell I'll give you every day for the rest of your long life." Seth laughed again, and Ron was relieved to hear a more genuine tone.

"Thanks, Ron," said Seth gruffly.

"Not necessary. Call me next week with the details. I'll be there. In fact, I can escort Jessica into and out of the courtroom. The less you're seen and photographed together, the better."

"That's a good thought, Ron. Thanks."

"Not a problem. Good night."

Seth hung up the phone quietly, grateful for Ron's help.

"Are you nervous?"

Seth rubbed the back of Jessica's neck and was relieved to feel some of the tension ebb away. "A-yuh," he said softly. "You?"

He felt her nod against his chin, and his heart clenched, both in acknowledgement of the love he felt for her, powerful and strong, and the fear and concern he felt on her behalf, equally as powerful. He was afraid…

"I can feel your heart, Seth," murmured Jessica. "It's beating quick and fast." She lifted her head. They both preferred leaving the hall light on while keeping the rest of the bedroom in relative darkness. In the dim light, she could just make out his face. "I love you. I hope you'll remember that tomorrow."

Seth squeezed her shoulders. "It's what's going to get me through, woman," he said gruffly. "The thought of you and this, here. Together."

She rested her chin on his chest. "I'm afraid it's going to be ugly," she said quietly.

Seth stroked her cheek with his finger. "They can try, Jess, but they can't hurt us. They can't touch this," he said. "We won't let them."

"Seth?"

"Mmm?" he murmured, stroking her cheek. He loved the feel of her skin.

"Could we…do you think we could…"

Their eyes met in the weak light coming from the hall. "If you're asking what I think you are, woman, then yes. Yes, I think we can get married."

"Oh, Seth," she breathed, shifting to embrace him. "There's nothing I want more."

He tightened his grasp on her. "It's the same for me, Jessica," he said hoarsely. "Let's call for a license and get married as soon as we can." He felt her nod against him. "We can have a church wedding later or a reception—whatever you want—but let's be married soon." He felt her lips press against his neck, against the hollow of his jaw.

"I'd like that," she murmured. "Let's do it soon, Seth. As soon as we can." She kissed him lightly. "I don't care about anything else. I just want to be married, Seth. It's time."

He drew back a little so he could see her face. There was nothing in her eyes except the love he knew she saw in his own eyes. He kissed her tenderly. "A-yuh," he agreed. "It's time."

The judge glanced at his notes, then looked out over the gallery before he addressed the prosecutor.

"I understand, Mr. Adams, that an impact statement is to be read aloud in court before today's sentencing?"

"That is correct, your honor. Ron Masak is carrying a letter from one of the victims. We'd like that read into the record today."

The judge appeared thoughtful, then glanced at the defendant. "Very well. Bailiff, will you call Mr. Ron Masak into the courtroom?"

The bailiff nodded and exited the courtroom, only to return moments later with Ron. The judge nodded to Ron. "Mr. Masak, you may approach the bench."

"Thank you, your honor." Ron walked down the aisle, careful not to glance at David.

"You may begin when ready," said the judge.

Ron nodded, then unfolded the piece of paper he'd been carrying and began to read.

To the honorable Judge Andrew McWilliams,

My name is Dr. Seth Hazlitt. I am married to Jessica Hazlitt, formerly Jessica Fletcher and known professionally as JB Fletcher.

I appreciate the opportunity to address the court through my impact statement, which the court has graciously permitted to be read into the official record by Ron Masak.

The defendant spent months harassing Mrs. Hazlitt, traveling across the country with the aim of forcing his unwanted attention on her, attempting to make her feel unsafe while carrying out her obligations to her publisher and her readers, as well as attempting to destroy the tranquility of her home in the small town of Cabot Cove, Maine. It seems clear, and the court agrees, that this campaign of harassment was designed to undermine Mrs. Hazlitt's confidence and resolve, to induce in her a general feeling of fragility with the hope of "rescuing" her from the defendant's own deleterious assaults on her emotional and potentially physical wellbeing.

It is with great pride in my wife's capabilities that I happily report that the defendant's aim was not realized. Not at all. My wife possesses an unassailable character. She is a vibrant, intelligent and independent woman whose open and friendly nature is attractive to all who are fortunate enough to meet her. It would take more ability than the defendant possesses to diminish her in any way.

I appreciate the court's indulgence in this matter, as my wife and I are enjoying an extended honeymoon trip and as such are unavailable to attend today's sentencing hearing.

Ron carefully folded the letter as he waited for the judge to dismiss him. He was planning to enjoy the rest of this sentencing hearing. Tolliver already had a life sentence hanging over him, but Ron thought there was a good chance this judge would add another five to ten years onto that, and he relished the opportunity to witness it and carry the good news back to Jessica and Seth. When they return from their honeymoon, that is.

Epilogue

It was a beautiful morning. The weather was fine and the sun was sparkling across the Penobscot. He might ask his bride if a day of fishing suited her.

He carried two cups of coffee to the screened-in porch and attempted, unsuccessfully, to slide the screen door open with his foot. He could see Jessica seated at the table. Her head was bent, and she appeared to be writing furiously. He called to her several times, and finally had to raise his voice before she turned, startled and a bit annoyed, if he was being honest. Her expression softened considerably when she saw him looking comically forlorn holding two cups of coffee on the opposite side of the screened porch.

Flustered, she came to the door and opened it quickly. "I'm sorry, Seth."

"Not a problem, sweetheart. I'm sorry I had to raise my voice. What were you doing?"

Jessica looked at him, her eyes glittering with an expression Seth couldn't quite place, but his heart lifted all the same. She looked hopeful and a little apprehensive. "I've got an idea for a book."

The End