NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 27: Delay
The air in the room was oppressive. The heat from outside was trapped, making it hot and humid. Nicholas paced from one corner to another, the cold stone walls pressing in on him. He turned to face the man seated across the small, rusted table. The dull afternoon light from the window illuminated the room but struggled to highlight the policeman’s grim expression.
“You don’t understand,” Nicholas began, his voice tight with urgency. “This execution—it can’t happen yet.”
The man, a broad-shouldered figure in a crisp uniform, sat with arms crossed. His badge glinted faintly in the pale light, alongside multiple honorary awards. He was the best of the best. “The court has ruled, Nicholas,” he said, his tone firm but tired. “The execution is scheduled. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
Nicholas ground his teeth. “You can delay it,” he insisted. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a folded letter, its edges frayed from frequent handling—only Nicholas could count how many times he’d read it. He placed it on the table, his hand lingering on the paper. “This letter contains evidence—evidence that could change everything. If you move forward with the execution before this is reviewed, it will be a travesty of justice.”
“There is nothing special about this letter, Mr. Vials. It changes nothing,” the policeman said, his head held high as his words echoed against the concrete walls.
“That’s because you don’t want to see anything special about it,” Nicholas retorted, his mind racing to conclusions.
“Mrs. Eva is a relative, a cousin to my mother,” Nicholas explained. “She was aware that Michael hadn’t been present at the institute, and Joaquin Sherrels had claimed on multiple occasions that he and Michael never shared a living space.”
“That was proven false,” the officer replied.
“No, it wasn’t. You simply argued that since he had no place of his own, he must have lived with my brother,” Nicholas shot back, pacing the room.
“And that would be a valid conclusion.”
“No, it’s not,” Nicholas countered, stopping to face the policeman. His eyes were hollow, dead set. “Joaquin stayed at brothels. I’ve read the statements. He told his lawyers about his living arrangements.”
“Then why didn’t he make it known in court?”
“Because it damages his image. No noble wants to be known as an adulterer—it wouldn’t help his case,” Nicholas said, his face pale in the evening light.
“That’s not a very convincing argument, Mr. Vials.”
“No, but that’s why this letter is so important. A count in attendance confirmed they’d been missing from the institute for a long time. He was killed five hours after a police report was filed. Despite Eva’s threats, no audit was conducted; instead, the police were informed immediately. This letter wasn’t at the scene—it was delivered to Michael’s address.” Nicholas spoke in one breath, pausing to collect his thoughts. His hands shook as he tried to relay everything before losing his voice.
“They believed Joaquin Sherrels lived at the same address. It had been posted and received. I have reason to believe it was retrieved before the police were informed,” he continued.
“Nicholas, I don’t know what to say. It’s a big leap. The most I can do is convince Mr. Sherrels to appeal for a lighter sentence. And—” The policeman glanced out the window before meeting Nicholas’s eyes again. He knew it wouldn’t do much but could reopen the case.
He looked down at the letter but didn’t reach for it. His jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “Even if what you’re saying is true, it’s not enough to stop what’s already in motion. The court’s decision stands. I can’t overturn it with a letter you’ve just decided to show me.”
Nicholas stepped closer, his voice dropping to a sharp whisper, his eyes burning with conviction. “Listen to me. The man they’re about to execute is innocent—I know it, and you know it. If he dies before the truth comes out, his blood will stain your hands as much as anyone else’s. Is that what you want?”
The man’s expression faltered—a crack in his stoic demeanor. He glanced again at the letter, then back at Nicholas. “You’re asking me to risk my position, my career, for this. Do you have any idea what you’re asking?”
Nicholas leaned forward, palms flat on the table. “I’m asking you to do the right thing. Delay the execution, even for a day. That’s all I need to get this into the right hands.”
The man exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping as he considered the plea. Finally, he reached for the letter, his fingers brushing the worn paper. “I’ll see what I can do,” he muttered, his voice tinged with reluctance. “But this better be worth it, Nicholas. We don’t have much time.”
Relief washed over Nicholas, though his heart still pounded. “I won’t be long. I’ll try.”