“Bring him forward.”
Vanessa half rose from her seat.
“Ethan, sit down.”
He didn’t even look at her.
He walked forward, breathing hard, and held out his hand.
In it was my old silver thimble.
My heart stopped.
“Your Honor,” he said in a trembling voice, “Clara never touched Vanessa’s jewelry.”
Ethan turned toward her.
The judge asked, “What is that?”
“It’s Clara’s thimble. From her sewing basket.” He swallowed. “I found it in Vanessa’s locked drawer. With a memory card.”
The entire room changed.
Vanessa said too quickly, “That proves nothing.”
Ethan turned toward her, and for the first time I saw something in him stronger than fear.
“A few nights before the necklace was found, I woke up and saw you in the hallway with the jewelry box.”
The judge raised a hand for silence.
Vanessa froze.
“I followed you,” Ethan continued. “You went into Clara’s room. You stopped beside the wardrobe and put something into her sewing basket.”
Adam stood.
“Ethan…”
“You told me not to tell anyone,” Ethan said, keeping his eyes on Vanessa. “You said Clara was ruining everything.”
His voice trembled, but he continued.
“Back then, I didn’t understand what I was seeing. I only understood after they took Clara away.”
My lawyer asked gently, “And the memory card?”
Ethan nodded.
“Later, Vanessa made me help her look for something in the foyer. She left me alone for a moment. I opened the top drawer because I saw Clara’s thimble. The memory card was underneath.”
The judge asked, “Do you know what is on that card?”
Ethan took a breath.
“A video. There was a small motion camera hidden on a shelf in the bedroom hallway. It was pointed toward Clara’s door. I think she kept it there to watch who came and went.”
The court clerk took the card.
Vanessa said sharply, “That’s a lie.”
Ethan flinched but continued.
“I put the card in my backpack. At lunch, I asked my computer teacher to help me open it because I told him I had found it. He played the file.”
He looked toward the judge.
“It shows Vanessa entering Clara’s room with the jewelry box. When she leaves, she has Clara’s thimble in her hand.”
The court clerk took the card.
My lawyer looked as though someone had finally given him oxygen.
That was the clean break.
No drama.
Evidence.
Before anyone took Ethan away, I asked him, “Did she touch anything else in my room?”
He looked confused, then nodded.
“Your photo tin.”
A chill ran through me.
That tin contained letters from Adam’s mother.
