Free With His Dying Breath by Nancy Hogue

filled in by a file of newspaper articles Aunt Pat had stashed away. What an awful time in my life, but thanks to Aunt Pat for rescuing me.
                  Aunt Pat and Katie drove to the house guarded by police officers parking under a huge maple near the basketball goal. This pristine family setting from a happy Norman Rockwell portrait was now a scene from a Halloween thriller with all the blood and gore. “Wait in the car, okay, sweetie. I’ll just be a minute.” She returned later with boxes of clothes, books and other items Katie might need or want. Poor Aunt Pat, she was so spooked. We both were.
    Sammi thought about her four cats she had left behind due to Uncle Jim’s allergies.              Aunt Pat had said, “Honey we can’t take them with us.” Then the dreaded why?
                  “Honey, Uncle Jim, is allergic. He has a very hard time breathing.
    “But who will feed them and take care of them?”
    “They’ll catch their food.” Katie started crying.
                  “Please,” she begged.
                  “They’ll be okay,” Aunt Pat said, “Maybe we can get a dog.” Katie got in the car, crying, and when the car pulled away, she wouldn’t even look back.
                  She doesn’t know how the police found out it was her brother and his friends. She was in Macon at the time starting a new life with her new puppy.
                  “Mrs. Brockton, your breakfast is here.”
                  “Thank you. Thank you for the coffee, especially. And fruit, how nice.”
                  “Yes ma’am, Deputy James got you some fruit.”              As she drank her coffee and ate the strawberries and banana, her mind turned back to the previous night. Mitch, her yardman, had provided her with a lawyer. She was so grateful. Blake had provided him a good living all these years, and he didn’t believe she was guilty. He wanted the real killer found. JJ and her dad vowing to find her innocence. Bill Fritz offering help with a defense attorney. I wish I had as much faith in me as other people seem to have.
     
    * * *
     
                  JJ left for school early to speak to Dr. Jacob, her favorite school counselor. She parked her VW in the student parking lot next to Mr. Grumman who waiting for her in his little red sports car pretending to read the morning paper. “Morning, Mr. Grumman. What are you doing out here in the student parking lot?”
                  “Hi JJ, Couldn’t find a spot in the faculty lot. I’m just reading your Dad’s article about the excitement in town yesterday. Looks like he’s right in the middle of the story.”
                  “Well, he’s not really in the middle. He just writes the facts. Gets it out there to the reader, you know what I mean.” JJ made a motion with her hands pushing them outward eyeing this man as if she had never seen him before. She’d sat in his class every school day for seven months now listening to him speak passionately about such dull topics as how the world was civilized. She heard sadness when he related historical events of famines and wars. She heard laughter as he recounted tales of the knighthood. She had never heard him speak in this tone before. Sarcasm? Was it flippant? Was it to provoke a response from her?
                  “He quoted lots of neighbors and police, the detectives. Looks like he’s in the middle of it to me. Right smack in the middle.”
                  JJ stared at Mr. Grumman walking toward the building. That was odd, she thought. He’s not even from Georgia. Why would he be interested in an article written by my dad? That’s so odd, she repeated to herself. JJ followed him into the building and turned down the hallway to the Counselors’ offices.
                  Dr. Myra Elaine Jacob was usually the first