J.D. Trafford - Michael Collins 03 - No Time To Hide (30 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTY
EIGHT

Michael Collins did not even get out of the building. Notice came down to the holding area in the basement of the courthouse just an hour after Quentin had finished his closing argument. 

The jury had reached a verdict.

Michael followed the U.S. Marshals into the elevator. He watched the doors slide close in front of him, and Michael knew that this was going to be the last time that he’d see the inside of a jail. He knew that he wasn’t going to be coming back down that elevator or see the inside of Pod 3 at the MDC.

He knew that he was going to walk into the courtroom, hear the verdict, and then walk out the main courtroom door and never come back.

A bell rang. The doors slid open and the Marshals led him toward his seat at counsel’s table. Michael shook hands with Quentin. Ordinarily, a quick verdict was good news for the prosecution, but not this time.

Michael glanced over his shoulder. He saw Andie and Kermit sitting in the back row. Michael almost didn’t recognize Kermit without his dreadlocks, but Kermit’s broad smile and bobbling head gave him away.

Judge Husk was led into the courtroom by his clerk, who helped him up a step and lowered the old man into his seat. The strength and spark that Judge Husk had shown throughout the trial was now gone. He looked tired.

“Bring the jury in.” Judge Husk instructed the court clerk. She obliged. 

“Please rise.” Judge Husk raised his hand and everybody in the courtroom stood.

The jurors filed in and walked to their seats. The judge directed everybody to sit down, and then he cleared his throat. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are back on the record in the United States versus Michael Collins.” Judge Husk turned to look at the jurors. “Members of the jury, have you selected a foreperson?”

The jurors all nodded their heads, and then a man in the back row stood.

“I was selected the foreperson, Your Honor.”

“Good,” Judge Husk nodded. “And have you reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.”

“And what say you.”

The foreman turned away from Judge Husk and looked directly at Michael. For all Michael’s confidence, a moment of doubt crept in and he felt his heart stop as the verdict was pronounced.

“We, the members of the jury, find the Defendant, Michael John Collins, not guilty of all charges.”

“Very well,” Judge Husk smiled. “You may be seated.” He looked at Brenda Gadd. “Ms. Gadd would you like the jurors polled?”

“Yes.” Brenda Gadd stood. “I would ask that the jurors be individually polled, Your Honor.”

“Fine. Starting with you,” Judge Husk looked at a woman in the first row at the bottom left corner. “Will you rise and state your decision, and then we will go down the row.”

Each of the jurors stood and declared that Michael Collins was not guilty of all charges. Then Judge Husk gave them a final word of thanks and dismissed them from the court. Michael rose and watched them leave, and then he remained standing as Judge Husk released him from custody.

“You are free to go, Mr. Collins, and good luck to you.”

“Thank you, judge.” Michael turned and gave Quentin a hug, and soon they were joined by Kermit and Andie.

Michael took Andie into his arms. He squeezed her and kissed her.

“It’s over,” he said. “I don’t have to hide anymore.” Michael closed his eyes and thought about getting on a plane back to the Sunset Resort. He thought about Hut No. 7. He thought about drinking a beer on the Point, and then he thought about Brea Krane, her brother, and her lawyer.

He was found not guilty, but nobody would say that he was innocent.

CHAPTER EIGHTY NINE

Michael stared out at the blue Caribbean water. It never got old. He was never tired of sitting. The waves rolled past the rocky peninsula and onto the shore. The view was never boring.

He took a sip of Corona, and the sun cooked away the white paste that had developed after three months in custody.

“This place isn’t exactly handicap accessible.”

The sound of the voice sent a shiver up his spine. Michael Collins had to remind himself that he was safe. It was all in the past.
“Francis,” he said, knowing that Agent Frank Vatch hated the name Francis. “Wondering when you would pay me a visit.”

“Just wanted to see where all the misfits and losers hang out.” Vatch rolled his wheelchair forward. He stopped at the edge where the stone path ended and the beach began. “I also figured you missed me.”

Michael Collins shook his head.

“Not so much.” He set down his beer on a small wooden table next to his chair. Michael then stood, picked up the chair, and brought it back to Vatch.

He set the chair down next to Vatch, and then sat.

“This is better. No wait …” Michael got back up and reclaimed his beer, then sat
down again. He took a sip and nodded. “Now that’s better.”

The two enemies sat together side-by-side for about five minutes. Michael was in no hurry, and so he waited. Eventually, Vatch broke the silence.

“It’s nice here.” Vatch looked out at the water, and then took in a deep breath of air. “Except for the fact that you’re not in compliance with the Americans with Disabilities Act, but other than that, it’s nice here.”

“Yep,” Michael agreed, and he resisted the temptation to point out that the Americans With Disabilities Act doesn’t apply to resorts in Mexico.

“So this is home?” Vatch asked.

“I wish it was.” Michael took a sip of beer. “Took the civil lawyers about two minutes before I got served with all sorts of civil lawsuits and garnishments. Looks like they’re going to sell this place, divide the proceeds, keep me out.” Michael took another sip of beer. “But I’ve got some time. I’ll fight it.”

“Lawyers,” Vatch said it with such disgust that Michael could only laugh.

“Why are you here, Francis?”

“Got nothing better to do,” Vatch looked at Michael. “Took early retirement.”

“Congratulations,” Michael said. “I’ll buy you a beer whenever our server notices us.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Vatch rubbed the back of his neck.  “It was time for me to go. The good guys and the bad guys weren’t so easy to distinguish anymore.”

“Well, I’m a bad guy, just in case you were confused.” Michael looked over at Frank Vatch. The two made eye contact, and Vatch’s eyes narrowed.

“I wasn’t ever confused about you,” he said. “But after five years, I was done. And after your trial, it seemed like I’d be sent to the mailroom for my foreseeable future.”

“So you’re not here on business,” Michael thought for a moment. “No point in harassing me anymore. All the trust assets are frozen. The resort is on the auction block. You’re on
permanent sabbatical. The government is barred from prosecuting me, again.” Michael finished his beer. “So what gives?”

“Just wanted to see it.” Vatch looked out at blue water. He watched the seagulls chase each other. “I just wanted to see it. See if this was really worth it.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Michael said as Vatch turned his wheelchair around and started back down the path.

“No thanks,” Vatch waved his hand. “I got what I was looking for.”

“Good,” Michael leaned back. He looked at the clear expanse of peaceful water. Then he looked at the wedding ring on his finger and closed his eyes. “That makes two of us.”

THANK YOU FOR READING “NO TIME TO HIDE”

Contact J.D. TRAFFORD at
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