If We Dare to Dream by Collette Scott Page A

situations was to find a routine and stick with it. Once he had overcome the biting sting of his depression, he had been able to find one rather quickly. An opportunity to remain busy appeared through work. While it was in the bakery, it was still something to occupy his time and prevent him from going completely mad from frustration. He woke early in the mornings and made his way to work where he spent the next several hours preparing baked goods. Instead of cleaning guns, he cleaned pans. Rather than rounding up bad guys, he was the bad guy. How dramatically his life had changed in such a short time.
    Late at night as he lay awake listening to other’s snores, he wondered what exactly the universe was trying to tell him. What was his purpose in life? Was it to be the valiant war hero he had come home as, or a convicted felon of a crime he did not commit? The more he thought, the more incensed he got. How ironic life was.
    The irony of his life seemed exceptionally enhanced today. What had begun as another tedious morning was abruptly interrupted with the surprise call from his lawyer the day before. He had not spoken to Darren Walters in… he could no longer remember. It had to be at least since he had announced that he was no longer interested in fighting his conviction. If the authorities wanted him to rot in jail for a crime he did not commit, so be it. When his own brother believed the worst, he realized it was time to be done fighting to non-listening ears. His announcement had promptly led to an argument with probably his last remaining friend and advocate beyond his grandmother, but Andrew had held firm. They had not spoken since the holidays for sure because Andrew did not receive anything that year for Christmas.
    Out of the blue Darren called to tell him that he made an appointment to come out to see him. His lawyer was not forthcoming with why, but Andrew suspected that Darren felt enough time had passed for them to discuss his appeal. All Darren would admit was that new information had been received.
    Andrew was suspicious. What this information could possibly be was unknown. He had learned a lot over the last decade and believing the impossible was not one of them. However, he did find himself staring at the clock every few minutes, anxiously waiting until it was time to go down to the visitation room.
    A practice in patience and fortitude, he stood silently as he was patted down by a stone-faced and hard-headed guard, and his face was completely shuttered when he caught sight of his attorney entering the room a few moments later. Darren’s eyes were glowing with excitement, and he looked as though he was ready to burst at the seams. Despite his best efforts, Andrew felt a leap in his heart at the sight. He forced it back in disgust.
    Taking a seat across from him, Darren immediately sat forward. He was grinning from ear to ear. His glasses were spotted with what appeared to be rain drops, and his suit was crumpled as though he had slept in it. One button was open, granting Andrew a view of his paunch belly. The urgency with which he had approached coupled with his disheveled appearance again gave Andrew pause. Darren was not normally one to appear so out of sorts. His excitement alone caught Andrew off guard, for Darren was one of the most composed men he knew.
    “We found her.”
    Andrew was not sure he heard correctly. “What did you say?”
    “We found her, Andrew,” Darren said quickly. He waved a hand impatiently. “Or rather she found us. Whatever the case, she’s here and she’s talking.”
    Though they were words he had longed to hear ever since he had left that bar the evening of Kit’s murder, he doubted his ears just as he doubted Darren. “Who are you talking about?”
    Still in disbelief, Andrew noticed that his hands had started to shake. Though he warned himself against raising his hopes, he could not stop the rapid tattoo of his heart or the sweat that moistened his palms. His body