Finding Freedom (Book 4) (Piper Anderson Series)

by Stewart, Danielle

  Finding Freedom

  Book Four of The Piper Anderson Series

  Danielle Stewart

  Copyright Page

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locals, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  An Original work of Danielle Stewart.

  Finding Freedom Copyright 2014 by Danielle Stewart

  Cover Art by: Ginny Gallagher

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  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the readers who have embraced the Piper Anderson Series. If you’ve enjoyed these books it means you believe there is always hope, and you are never truly alone.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Jedda

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jedda

  I killed my parents. I looked down at them as they lay asleep in their bed. I drew in a steadying breath and filled my nose with the stale air of the small apartment bedroom. The stench of neglect, fear, and abuse fueled my resolve. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pulled the trigger—once, twice. The pops were louder than I thought they would be, and my ears rang as the echo of my crime reverberated off the walls. I felt the warm spray of blood as it mixed with the sweat on my face. With my eyes still closed tightly, I continued to grip the gun fiercely as my whole body began to shake. With my back leaning against the wall for support, I slowly lowered myself to the floor to wait for the police to come. Despite my physical reaction to what I had just done, I felt an eerie calmness inside me.

  It was a long road that led me to that moment, and I didn’t travel it alone. Just a room away from the gunpowder and death, at a mere eight years old, was my little sister, Willow. She was the personification of her name: slight, soft, and yielding. I prayed that deep down she had the strength and resilience that also described her namesake. Could she bend to the winds that were trying to blow us over?

  Years before I shot my parents I remember sitting with Willow. We were holding hands on a hard wooden bench outside a government office and overheard how our lives would change. All parental rights were severed. Our mother was given probation. Our father was to serve eight months in prison. That wasn’t even a month for each scar I had on my body as a result of his cruelty. Before I could fully process the injustice of that small sentence, I was met with another blow. Willow and I were separated, quickly ushered away to different foster families.

  As I met my new family, the Wrights, I was already silently planning my escape from them. My damaged heart fought to reject the sincerity that was shown to me by my foster parents and foster brother, Bobby. Slowly though, without realizing it, I softened. I was so hungry for love and attention that I stopped fighting it and I became part of the Wright family. And, no, the irony of their name didn’t escape me, even as a young boy. I knew the Wrights were right for me.

  In the process of becoming part of their family I let my little heart slip away from my sister. Nearly two years went by before I found out, far too late, that because of some kind of glitch in the paperwork, she’d been placed back with our parents. Driven by half-buried instincts, I found her, and that image changed my life forever. I saw her chained to a radiator, lying on a mattress that smelled like death. Her half-starved body wore the marks of hideous abuse, burns and scars etched across her small limbs. I don’t think I really knew what I was feeling at the time; the burning sensation I first felt the day Willow and I were separated was spreading with an intensity I’d never known.

  Three weeks after finding her in that horrific state I sat shaking on the floor of my parents’ bedroom listening to the wailing of police sirens growing closer and closer. It was worth it. I was ready to face my crime. As long as Willow was safe, I didn’t care what happened to me.

  Chapter One

  “Do you have any questions for me?” the mousy victim’s advocate, Delma, in her much too large business suit, asked as she looked expectantly over at Jedda. He was staring down at the pile of clothes in front of him as though he was looking at some kind of Holy Grail. He was lost in the lines and seams of the fabric, the crispness of the denim.

  The conference room they sat in was one normally used for lawyers and clients to discuss their case. When he’d entered a few minutes earlier he’d taken inventory of the nearly empty room: three chairs, a sterile looking metal table, and two-way glass across the far wall. A guard outside the door. It was nothing special, but after sixteen years in prison any change of scenery was welcomed. Even a mundane, nearly empty room.

  “No questions at all?” the woman asked again, her impatient tone shaking Jedda from the spell he was under.

  “I’m not s-s-sure,” he stuttered out, looking over at Michael for direction. “I’m not really sure what to ask.”

  “Well,” Delma hummed out, seeming slightly annoyed, “you’ve been incarcerated for sixteen years. Going out in to society is not a simple transition.”

  “He’s going to have a great support system,” Michael chimed in and shook his head reassuringly back at Jedda. “He’ll do great.”

  “In another situation, Mr. Cooper, I’d say your optimism is refreshing, but in this case I’m going to caution you against it. We’re talking about someone who was put in prison at the age of fifteen for committing a double homicide. He’s had no social development. No formal schooling past that age. You know as well as I do that the technology developed in the last ten years alone would be enough to make someone feel completely overwhelmed. He’ll struggle to find employment, considering he isn’t being exonerated, only paroled early. This will always be on his record. Now, I see he has a younger sister who’s attending a music school here in New York. I don’t imagine she’ll have the means to support him emotionally or financially.” Throughout her speech the woman’s arms remained crossed over her chest with an air of superiority.

  “I petitioned the court for Jedda to come back to Edenville, North Carolina, with me. We received word yesterday that he’ll be able to.”

  “Mr. Cooper.” The smug grimace on her face was enough to infuriate anyone, but Jedda was steering clear of the tension in the room. He pushed his lips tightly closed and listened as she continued. “I didn’t peg you for a
bleeding heart attorney taking in strays. You actually think you’re in a position to help him? I’d imagine the only reason the court allowed it is to make him some other state’s problem.”

  “What is your deal?” Michael snapped, narrowing his eyes at her. “You’re a victim’s advocate. If anyone is supposed to have a bleeding heart, it should be you.”

  “The key word there is victim’s advocate. Normally I’d be sitting here with the family of the people murdered. I’d be comforting a person who’d been attacked or someone who’d been exploited. This is the first time I’ve been assigned to a murderer. I don’t really agree with what’s transpired here. He was sentenced to life without parole.”

  Jedda watched as Michael stiffened his back and narrowed his eyes at Delma. “Well then, it’s a damn good thing it’s not your place to agree or disagree. Your role is to offer support to whoever’s case you’re assigned, and if you can’t for some reason, then you should recuse yourself.”

  “Trust me, Mr. Cooper, I tried. No one else in my office was willing to take the case. No one felt he should be let free. He killed his mother and father.”

  “He killed two sex-trafficking abusive monsters who were on the verge of selling his younger sister. She’d have been gone for good into a dark world I’d imagine you know a lot about, considering your job. He’d seen the police in and out of his house, facilitating the workings of the trafficking ring. He’d been surrounded by violence and had seen how snitches were punished. How can you expect him to have found someone he could trust? After he committed the murders, he immediately pleaded guilty and never spoke a word about why he did it.”

  “Exactly, and for that he received a life sentence. He could have had a trial and let the evidence fall where it may. It’s not society’s problem that he chose to not say a word about why he killed them.”

  “He didn’t speak up because he was trying to give his sister a chance at a decent life. One that didn’t include her being dragged through a trial. He wanted his adoptive parents to be left alone, free from retribution or harm. He took this sentence like a burden he had to carry alone. He was a kid. Staying quiet was the wrong choice but he did it for the right reasons. Did you miss the parade of prison guards and staff in there with glowing accounts of the kind of inmate Jedda was? He didn’t have a single infraction while behind bars which is almost unheard of. He’s gotten his GED for God’s sake. If he’d had a good lawyer, if there was a trial, he likely wouldn’t have been convicted, and if he was, his sentence would have been greatly reduced. Obviously I’m right since the court agreed.”

  “Fabulous. We all know how infallible the court system is. They must have gotten it right, this time.” The woman slammed shut her notebook and crammed it firmly into her briefcase. She continued to mutter something about how Jedda would likely do it again.

  “You know what?” Michael cut in with an odd look on his face. “I’m glad we had you here today. It’s great practice for the ignorance we’re likely to face. So while you served absolutely no other purpose today, just know you earned your paycheck in some ass backward way. But as a victim’s advocate you’re about as useful as an inflatable dart board.”

  Jedda’s eyes had grown wide and he could feel the electric energy buzzing through the room. He wasn’t saying a word. Making waves at this point would be crazy, he could practically taste the fresh air, feel the sun on his face. Pissing anyone off when he was so close to freedom would be foolish.

  An exasperated huff escaped the woman’s thin and pursed lips as she yanked open the door to the conference room. The blur of her tan oversized suit was all Jedda saw as she stormed away.

  Jedda still kept his lips sealed as Michael stood up and took a lap around the room. “Sorry, that got a little intense,” he apologized as he paced in frustration.

  “Michael, you never have to apologize to me for anything. You’ve given me my life back.” He hesitated and sucked in his bottom lip, then let it out, unable to hold in his laugh. “An inflatable dart board?”

  “I’ve been spending way too much time with Betty. You’ll see soon enough. It’s like learning a second language. Plus you’ve said thank you so many times already, Jedda, please, it’s my pleasure.”

  “And you’ve said that so many times, but you haven’t told me why. You’ve only known Bobby for almost a year. Why do all this for him? You’ve put your whole life on hold.”

  “Some relationships are about quality, not quantity, of time. That’s the case for Bobby and me. He introduced me to my future wife and mother of my soon-to-be child. He’s always had my back.”

  “Still, that doesn’t seem enough. You’ve moved your wedding day back twice. Won’t Jules want to wring your neck?”

  “The funny thing about Jules is she’d whoop my ass for leaving my socks hanging around, but this stuff she understands. Well, she has up until this point. She’s about a month from her due date and all she wants is to be married before she goes into labor. She said she’s holding that little girl in until we’ve said ‘I do.’ You and I are flying out in the morning so we’ll be back in plenty of time to pull off a wedding.”

  “Flying?” Jedda’s face grew hot, and sweat began to bead across his back.

  “Yes, we need to be at the airport early. I’ve got all our paperwork ready and we’ve got clearance from the court. When you’re ready we’ll get out of here. You’re free to go.”

  Jedda reached down and ran his thumb over the seam of the jeans sitting in front of him. “Do you know how weird it is to have these clothes here?”

  “I’m sorry if they’re not your style. I didn’t have much time to shop this morning. They should fit though, and we can buy you something else when we get to Edenville.”

  “No, they’re perfect. I just mean that it’s been so long since I’ve worn actual clothes. I’ve been in prison orange since I was fifteen years old. Getting these clothes, it just . . .” Jedda swallowed back his emotions as he pulled the green sweatshirt against his chest.

  At the feel of Michael’s hand clamping down on his shoulder, Jedda pulled in a deep breath. Michael’s grip on him was grounding, exactly what he needed at that moment. “I’ve never flown before,” Jedda managed to mutter as he stood.

  “You’ll be the second person this year I’ve had to fly with who wasn’t quite ready. I’ve got a sneaking suspicion you’ll be better at it than Betty was. I’ll let you change. I’ll be right outside the door.” Michael’s small smile was the first Jedda had seen from him. Up until this point it had been all business. His voice was softer now as he reminded Jedda, “You’re about to walk out of here a free man.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk. My legs are shaking.”

  “You’ve got this,” Michael assured him as he stepped outside of the small room. “You’re going to do great.”

  Chapter Two

  The flight was more redemptive than terrifying. Not by much, but enough to help Jedda get through it. There was something therapeutic about ascending into the sky, away from the darkest place he’d ever been. The clouds were like a protective blanket, wrapping around him. No one could get him up here. His ever-present fear that this was all a big mistake and he’d be thrown back in jail was like a ghost that followed him around, constantly whispering doubt in his ear. But up in the sky, the humming of the plane engine seemed to drown the worry.

  His mind rambled through the last two months and how he’d ended up here, flying through the wide-open sky as a free man. It was easy to remember everyone who’d spoken out against him. All the people who wrote him angry letters or fought to keep him in prison. But there was someone he was trying to forget who kept creeping to the forefront of his mind.

  Crystal Wardyga was the only person who’d shown even the slightest bit of kindness toward Michael and Jedda while they worked on his case. During the preparation for Jedda’s court appearances, Michael was a near constant presence at the prison and courthouse. Jedda still remembered the morning Micha
el relayed the story of his meeting Crystal, a courtroom stenographer. Michael had spilled a full cup of coffee on himself and was trying to pat it dry when she came into the hallway. She’d directed him to the lost and found, a good place to shop for a new shirt in a pinch. When Michael told Crystal about Jedda and what they were trying to accomplish she listened intently. Soon she was coming to see Jedda during visiting hours and doing what she could to help them both. Often it was just pointing them in the right direction or warning them about people to avoid if possible. She knew the politics and drama of this courthouse, and it helped them tremendously.

  At some point, she became personally invested in Jedda’s freedom. The more details that came out about the circumstances of his crime, the more she believed he should go free.

  Though he frequently missed social cues, Crystal’s kindness was not lost on Jedda. The softness in her blue eyes was comforting on days when he felt nothing could calm him. Her visits were flooded with blind optimism. Her belief in his freedom was the only thing that carried him through some days. Michael was there out of friendship for Bobby, and although he and Jedda had certainly grown close, Crystal was something different. She didn’t have to be there, she chose to visit. She chose to help.

  Saying goodbye to her was harder than Jedda had expected. He could still smell her jasmine perfume on the collar of his shirt. They hadn’t talked about what it would look like once he actually was free. She knew they were going to petition the court for Jedda to be allowed to go to Edenville with Michael, but no one knew if it would be approved. When it was, Crystal and Jedda realized it might be the end of the road for their friendship. She tried to talk about the future but he avoided it.

  The tears that had gathered in the corner of her ocean blue eyes never fell. She held them, pushed them back, and managed a smile. So he did the same. He certainly wasn’t in the position to start a relationship with anyone. In reality, no matter how attracted to her he was, the forced distance might be the best thing that ever happened to her.