Expert Witness (20 page)

He tilted his head to see if that would dispel the illusion, but it was Max the Dog ambling up to her that did it. Hannah bent down to hold his collar, and when she faced Archer again the light was harsher. She was an angel tumbled down from heaven who found that earth was not the most pleasant place to be. In this new light, Hannah Sheraton looked scared and, as he knew, she didn’t scare easy.

Hannah held the door a little wider, and Archer stepped over the threshold. Max’s tail wagged so wildly at the sight of Archer that the old dog’s entire body shook. He took Max’s face in his hands and rubbed those jowls until he was sure the animal smiled.

“Thanks for coming,” Hannah whispered.

“Josie here?” Archer lowered his tone to match hers, moving in far enough so she could close the door.

Hannah shook her head then cut her eyes toward the living room. He looked over casually.  The room was as it always was: clean, striking in style and opulent in its simplicity. Above the modest fireplace was a painting of featureless woman.  It was huge and unframed, and even Archer understood its allure for the two women who lived in this house. Hannah had painted it as a gift to Josie.  Someday Archer imagined there would be a companion piece: Woman with a Face.

Then Archer saw a middle-aged woman standing near the French doors that led out to the back patio.  He bristled when she jiggled the handle it as if to test the lock, as if she could go wherever she wanted in Josie’s house. She clasped her hands behind her back and moved out of view. The woman was no friend of Josie’s that much Archer knew. Hannah knew the rest.

“Child protective services,” Hannah informed him quietly. “She’s been asking about Josie. I told her she was on a business trip.”

“Got it.”

Hannah fell back, closed the door then walked with Archer to meet the lady. Her fingers tapped, keeping time with her internal drummer.

The California Mountains

He felt much better after a little work, some good quiet time in his own surroundings, before hitting the road again. Everything was right as rain because sometime during the night, after his initial terror, he had an epiphany: Josie Bates being free was not a problem. Even if she had managed to release her companion, that was no problem. They couldn’t go anywhere. However, there were things they could do that would make all this so much more satisfying. This had never been a simple quest for justice. It was more complicated than that. Full satisfaction would only come when they were punished and degraded and humiliated the way he had been. Now, with their hands free, there was an opportunity for fun. They were animals in his own little zoo, dependent upon him for food and water. Well, they would have it. They would be rewarded as long as they danced to his tune. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?  Fun was something he hadn't anticipated.

The position of the hut was perfect for him to carry out his new plan. The land on the outside had moved over the last fifty years or so that he could easily stand outside and look through the opening in the wall.  On the inside, the ground was a foot and a half lower. The women couldn’t get up to him, but he could look down on them.

When he arrived, he put down the backpack, unzipped it and waited.  They must be deaf. He had taken no precautions during his approach. He had hoped to hear them calling to him long before he actually arrived. Tiring of the wait, he jumped easily atop the little berm and peered through the opening in the wall. Even if they looked right at him they wouldn’t know who he was given the way he was dressed and the light. He would look like Satan, dark and evil in the gear he had taken from the back of the car.

He needn’t have worried what they would see because when he peered into the darkened interior he saw that they were asleep, face to face, curled close. They looked like Hansel and Gretel in the witch’s house. Only it was two Gretel’s, and they couldn’t munch their way out of this place.

Wait. No. They looked like the women in that video he liked to watch when he was alone. Girls Do Girls. Maybe there was more fun to be had than even he imagined.

He tiptoed up, put his face against the hole and moved his eyes, taking in as much as he could.  He saw that Josie Bates’ wrists were still bound. He couldn’t see Erika’s, but he had to assume she had not managed to loosen the rope. By his calculations, if they had drunk all that water they might still sleep for another hour or so.

But then Josie Bates stirred. She raised her head as if she sensed him, and carefully eased herself away from Erika. She was a smart woman not to alarm her housemate until she knew what was what. It took all of his discipline – which was mighty – not to call out to her. Or laugh. No, no, bark at her like one animal calling to another animal. She was lucky he had self-control. Besides, there was immense satisfaction in seeing her try and figure it out. Her eyes were clicking to each corner as she looked for the thing that disturbed her.

No, not there.

Not in that corner.

No, not over there either.

Up. Look up.

He willed it and she did it. His will was amazing. He wanted to giggle. She was staring right at him. His dark visage filled the space that was only the size of a brick. They stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity and then, with exquisite timing, he leaned away and brought his hand up. He put a small bottle of ice-cold water on the little ledge.

“There’s nothing in it,” he assured her quietly. “You won’t sleep anymore.”

The Christian Broadcast Complex, Orange County

Isaiah Wilson held his bible in both hands at crotch level. His head was lowered. The cameras had stopped running, and as always the cameraman, producer, and sound tech remained respectfully silent. What wasn’t usual was the length of time Isaiah remained stationary. The three other people in the room glanced at one another. One of them shrugged, and all of them held their breath. Another minute passed and another. They had never seen a human being stay as still as this man. When it seemed that one of them was going to have to inquire after the reverend’s health, Wilson raised his head revealing a fearsome visage. His head turned to the young man in the doorway. Peter Siddon was fully awake now. His hair was neatly combed. He was calmer than when he had arrived. Isaiah smiled at him.

“I’m so glad you came to me.” Isaiah opened his arms and the young man walked into them. “Let us finish what you have started.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:

Josie Bates’ House, Hermosa Beach

“Hello! Hello there! I’m afraid Hannah was a little reluctant to talk to me without an adult present. That is completely understandable. I didn’t mind waiting in the least.” The woman who had been perusing Josie’s bookshelf seemed to be psychic. She popped up right in front of Archer just as he stepped into the living room. Her hand was out, her greeting chirpy and totally annoying. “Oh, I startled you. So sorry.”

“This is Mrs. Crane.” Hannah mumbled to Archer before raising her voice. “And I wasn’t reluctant to talk to you. I told you, Josie is out of town.”

The woman graced Hannah with a smile that turned Archer’s stomach. One thing he hated worse than a bad guy was a sadistic good guy.

“Yes, Sarah Crane. Child Protective Services. Hannah’s caseworker. Well, I’m newly assigned. Mrs. Davis quit. Not a job for a weak constitution.”

With surprising grace, the woman whipped out a calling card from her standard issue government portfolio. 

“Mrs. Manning at Hannah’s school called me. She was concerned that, perhaps, something was wrong, and that Ms. Bates might not have the same enthusiasm for guardianship that she originally exhibited. We so appreciate that kind of concern from an educator, so I wanted to have a look-see for myself. You know, make sure that everything was hunky-dory.  I’ve read Hannah’s file, and she hasn’t always had such personal attention, so I am bound and determined to make up for that.”

Archer took the card and kept moving until he was standing in front of the sofa. He sat down, feet planted, arms on his knees, and his eyes still riveted on the card. He didn’t need a card to tell him who this woman was because she was precise and clear about that. Archer just thought the card gave him a great excuse to think for a minute as he waded through the bullshit she was shoveling. Then he thought he should ask her to leave, and then he reconsidered. She could cause him a whole lot more grief than he needed right now, so giving her some time was the better course of action.

He flipped the card between his fingers as his eyes went to Mrs. Crane. She had taken the leather chair across from him, perching herself primly on the edge of the seat, and balancing her portfolio on her knees as she waited patiently for his attention. When she had it, Mrs. Crane opened her portfolio and withdrew a pen. Her gaze pegged Archer then clicked up a degree to Hannah who had positioned herself behind him.  He applauded the girl’s self-restraint. If someone were talking about him like he was a rescue animal he would have made it real clear he didn’t appreciate the tone or the implications. The only indication Hannah gave that she was upset was the almost imperceptible tapping on the back of the sofa.

“So, Mr. …”

“Archer.”

“You’re Ms. Bates’ partner, I believe.”

Her chin swung up as she said this. It swung so far that she looked down her nose at him. Aggravation flickered deep in Archer’s eyes; satisfaction twinkled in Mrs. Crane’s. He didn’t like labels, and he sure didn’t like them being slapped on by someone like her.

“The length of my relationship with Josie isn’t relevant to why you’re here, so you wasted a trip. Josie is out of town, but she’s dedicated to this guardianship. No question.” Archer tossed the card on the glass coffee table and gave her what he hoped passed for an expression of assurance. “You can see Hannah has a support system. She’s been in school, and I live close. There’s Faye, Josie’s law partner.  She checks in.”

“Yes, yes, I do have Ms. Baxter’s information. In fact, I called over to her office to chat with her. I like to cover my bases. Most people don’t think government workers aren’t thorough, but in my experience we are very good at covering our bases. So many misconceptions.”

She flashed a grin. She might as well have tattooed ‘look how special I am’ on her forehead. Hannah moved her head slightly. She hated this cheery woman who was so proud of her good deeds, so damn dedicated to saving Hannah when Hannah was already saved. Archer’s assessment was simpler; this woman was evil and he had to take care with her.

“It seems Faye Baxter has been out of town for some time. Business down south and seeing her daughter.” Mrs. Crane waved a little circle in the air. “So, as you say, that leaves you as Hannah’s ad hoc guardian if the guardian is not on the premises. Wouldn’t you imagine that would be the case, Mr. Archer?”

Archer’s teeth were on a grind; the back of his neck was flushed and warm. Hannah’s finger touched his shoulder as if in warning, and then he felt her tapping the back of the sofa once more. Knowing him well enough, not wanting any more trouble than was necessary, Hannah stepped in.

“Josie’s not missing. She’s just got caught up.”

“Do you want me to call her?” Archer asked.

“Really, Mr. Archer. Do you think that would do any good?”

 Mrs. Crane morphed from songbird to falcon as she called his bluff. Her eyes narrowed to mere slits in a face that had seemed narrow and fleshy, yet, in reality, was sharp boned and sunken. That beak of hers, sweetly chirping her concern only moments before was now closed tight and turned up sharply in a satisfied smirk. This, Archer imagined, was what prey saw in the instant before the predator struck. It was an ugly and fearful sight and her prey was Hannah.

“Hannah, dear, it really would be better if you didn’t tell tales
.” Mrs. Crane’s head swung away from the teenager to the man.  “And Mr. Archer, I think you might do well to heed that lesson also. Especially when you are speaking to a representative of the government.”

“Honesty is usually the best policy.” The only way he would give an inch was if she came over and ripped it away from him. But she stayed put and smiled drily.

“Excellent.” She drew the word out to a fine point. “I’m so glad we agree about telling the truth, because I picked this up on the way over. Well, not really picked it up. I took it off a telephone pole.”

From her ever-so-practical portfolio she withdrew a piece of paper that was just a little larger than her case. Mrs. Crane looked at it admiringly. No matter what it was, Archer knew he and Hannah were screwed.

“I’ll bet you did this Hannah, didn’t you? Beautiful work. Definitely noticeable. These seem to be all over Hermosa Beach.”

Slowly, Mrs. Crane turned the paper, holding it by the edges so that her hawk-like face was half hidden. Archer put his fingers to his forehead. He didn’t want to look at it, but it was preferable to looking at Hannah.

In Mrs. Crane’s dry fingers was a poster with Josie’s picture and the word MISSING! block printed in bright red letters above it.