legal history.”
She blinked, clearly not expecting a comment like that, and drew back. “And?”
“It should.” He fished in his back pocket for his billfold and withdrew a folded photocopy of a newspaper article, smoothed it out on the counter and then handed it to her. “Read this.”
Her mouth dropped open at the headline. She darted a quick look at him then read the brief article he already knew by heart, word for word.
Texan Connor Rafferty, sentenced to life without parole for the murder of Sheriff Carl Dornan, has served five years in the Eagle Creek State Prison. Recent DNA evidence has exonerated Rafferty of all charges and he has been released. No one else has been charged, but state investigators say the case is ongoing...
“Five years,” she breathed, giving him a searching look. “Five years of your life gone and they were wrong?”
He’d expected doubt, suspicion, even instant fear of a man she might still believe to be a cop killer despite laboratory evidence to the contrary. He’d expected her to order him out of her store. He hadn’t expected to see the sympathy in her eyes.
He hitched a shoulder. “That’s about it. But right now I’m just thankful to be free.”
“I can’t imagine what it was like for you.” She shook her head slowly. “And for your poor family.”
“Nothing good.” He tucked the article back into his wallet. “I don’t think you want a guy fresh out of prison at your cash register.”
Her brows drew together as she searched his face. “But you weren’t guilty, right?”
“No. But I spent five years behind bars and I’ll be marked by that injustice forever.”
“Maybe you should give people a chance to prove you wrong.”
“Is it worth the risk? If word about my past spreads, people might be afraid to come into your store.”
“You aren’t exactly unique. Marvella Peters is a beautician in town, and one of her nephews in Chicago was released from prison for burglary two years ago. The same situation—based on DNA.” She thought for a moment. “And I saw a television show about this sort of thing, too. At least you aren’t the poor man who put in thirty years before proven innocent.”
He’d spent his years in prison knowing he’d never be freed, given the enormity of the charges against him and a federal sentence without chance of parole. A bleak, suffocating sense of hopelessness had weighed on his chest every minute of every day.
God had forgotten him well before his incarceration and he’d given up on prayer long before that. But now he felt a tentative flare of hope and silent words began to form into a rusty, awkward plea. Was it really possible to start over? To be given a chance?
Please, God. Let it be true. But even as he breathed that prayer, he knew it wasn’t possible.
His own father had never cared enough to forgive him and offer him another chance, so why would the Almighty?
“I’m really sorry, and I hope you won’t be offended, but—” Keeley bit her lower lip. “I—I do need to check out your story. Can I photocopy that article?”
“Of course.”
It would be an easy way out for her, once she thought this through a little longer. A delay, followed by a tactful withdrawal of her job offer.
He didn’t expect anything more.
The next day Keeley stopped at the sheriff’s office during her lunch break feeling decidedly upbeat. Finally. An employee—and one she felt good about hiring. Was God finally answering her prayers and maybe using her to give this man a new start?
It didn’t take long to receive a second opinion on Connor Rafferty.
“How much worse could this guy be?” Deputy Todd Hansmann shoved the job application back across his desk and threw up his hands in disgust. “An ex-con? Are you crazy?”
Keeley rolled her eyes. His irritable tone confirmed that she’d been right to firmly decline Todd’s occasional offers for dinner or a movie when she’d first moved back to Aspen Creek.
Now he was engaged to a take-charge redhead named Nina, who didn’t take sass from anyone and who managed the one grocery store in town. They seemed like a perfect match.
“No, I’m not crazy.” She stabbed her forefinger at the photocopied newspaper clipping. “If I was, I would’ve hired him without checking out his story. But I’ve read about counterfeiters making currency with a computer, so I wanted to make sure this newspaper article wasn’t faked. Can you verify this for me?”
He snorted. “Lorraine is running a background check right now. But since he spent five years in the slammer, there must have been some mighty compelling evidence to lock him up in the first place. If he got released on some technicality—”
“DNA is not a technicality. It’s proof. Right?”
“But he got arrested, Keel. The cops must have had good reason to be suspicious. If he was just some innocent, random guy, why did they ever consider him? Maybe he has a long history of being a troublemaker.”
“Exonerated, it says,” Keeley repeated, her light mood dissipating.
“That aside, prison changes a man, Keel. And not for the better. I still think—” At the buzz of the intercom on his desk, Todd pushed his chair back. “Just hold on a minute.”
Five minutes later he was back with several pages of printouts in hand, his mouth twisted into an unpleasant grimace. “Lorraine finished the background check. Apparently his story is true.”
“So someone in law enforcement was careless and he paid for their mistakes?”
“There were DNA errors, apparently. His legal record has been wiped clean. Uh... Lorraine even found some articles about the case and his release through the National Registry of Exonerations.”
A feeling of jubilation bubbled up in Keeley’s chest. “I told you!”
“You still shouldn’t take any chances.”
“Really, Todd.”
“Think about the kind of prisoners he’s been associating with...and about that last new employee of yours. Mandy. Candy—whatever her name was.”
“Mindy. I hardly think this guy would abscond with froufrou from the store.”
Todd’s eyes narrowed on her. “No, but he might run off with the cash register. Does your brother know about this? Your sister?”
They’d all gone to elementary through high school together here in town, so he knew her siblings well enough to track them down and give each a call.
Brad, a doctor in Cleveland, and Liza, a tax attorney in St. Paul, would have plenty to say if they learned of Keeley’s plans, and knowing Todd, they would probably be finding out all too soon.
She tried to hold back her rising irritation. “Why would this matter to them? They aren’t partners in my store, Todd. I don’t answer to anyone but myself.”
“Still—”
“I appreciate your concern, but this is my decision.” She reached across the counter and gave his hand a squeeze. “Thanks for the background check.”
He glowered at her. “So you’re going to hire a felon.”
She bit back a sharp retort and summoned a more reasonable tone. “Is he still a felon if proved innocent via irrefutable proof?”
She’d come here to make sure Connor’s story was true. That accomplished, it was time to leave before she