Hostile Witness (11 page)

“You can take all your entitlement crap and shove it,” Kip shot back.

“Kip, please,” Linda pleaded, but Kip was on a roll. He ignored her, intent on Josie as if she were responsible for the demon child in their midst.

“From the very beginning we’ve had to wonder if Hannah set that fire, now we have to think that she may have beaten him? This is too much, Linda.  I’m not going to have this woman waltz in here and tell us that we’re heartless and self-centered if we don’t do what she says. I know Cooper will work with us and that’s what I want.”  Kip paced, so angered he could hardly contain himself.

“But there’s a good chance she’ll be acquitted,” Josie objected as he threw himself onto the sofa, pushing into a corner of the couch.

“Then prove it to me now. Prove that, and we’ll go to trial. If you can’t, then I have to believe Hannah’s a murderer and we are at risk if you get her off.  The fact that you’re talented enough to do that makes my blood run cold.”

 Josie was incredulous. What kind of demand was this? Show me the killer; Hannah can be free. It was appalling; a black and white demand with no room to maneuver. Even in court Josie would never have to find an alternative perpetrator.

“My job is to prove that Hannah didn’t murder your father, not find out who did.  You’re acting like Hannah is a natural born killer. She’s never been violent before, has she?”

“Stop pretending.”  Kip stood up quickly. His leg hit the coffee table. The glasses shuddered. One fell, spilling the wine over the glass top.  “She cuts herself up like a piece of meat. I’d say that’s violent.”

“Hannah hurts herself, not other people.” Josie snapped her head toward Linda.  “Linda, for God’s sake, there would have been something big before this. Hannah would have killed small animals, torn the wings off butterflies.”

Kip whirled and leaned on the empty chair next to Josie’s.

“You’re not a psychiatrist.  We’ve spoken to her doctor a thousand times. And what does he say? He says ‘well, I don’t think she’s dangerous, but these situations are unpredictable.’” Kip’s mimic of the doctor was cruel, and his next words bitter. “If he doesn’t know, how in the hell do you?”

His plain face morphed as he pushed away from the chair. He was in charge. He was driven, determined to have his way.

“We’re telling you we need this resolved now. We are the ones responsible for her.  We’re the ones who have to live with her, not you.”

Josie stood up. Kip Rayburn didn’t have enough game to shut her down. She didn’t care whose son he was, or who he was about to become.

“I’m Hannah’s attorney and, as such, I am responsible for the welfare of my client.  So let me tell you what I know.  Hannah won’t last a minute if she serves a sentence in a psychiatric facility. You think she’s got problems now? Just wait until they release her someday and she shows up on your doorstep. I guarantee you won’t turn your lights off at night.  Or are you one of those bleeding hearts that think criminals actually go into those places for treatment?”

Josie’s hands punctuated every word that came out of her mouth. She whipped toward Linda and back to Kip, trying to find one who would stand with her for Hannah.

“Those places are dark, third rate institutions where overworked doctors make out reports and prescribe electroshock and pills that will keep Hannah so doped up she won’t even know when one of the low life orderlies decides she looks like prime pickings. So he’ll rape her, and she won’t even know it.  Or another inmate will…”

“Stop it! Josie, stop it!” Horrified, Linda cried out as she buried her face in her hands. It was Josie who got to her first.  She took Linda’s hands in her own and forced them down.

“Linda, listen to me. . .”

“Wait just a minute,” Kip rushed to the sofa. Josie met him head on, daring him to interfere.

“Back off,” she growled, tired of him now.   “Linda, look at me.  This is your daughter’s life.  It’s not a game. It’s deadly serious and what you do now is going to affect her whole life, Linda.  You’re her mother for God’s sake. Do you really think she did something she should go to jail for?”

Linda’s bright eyes darted everywhere, searching for the right answer. Her lips parted – pink, pink lips – but it was hard for her to speak.  She turned those eyes toward her husband, but Josie put one hand to Linda’s cheek and made her focus on the question.

“Do you want Hannah to suffer?” Josie whispered angrily, pushing for a decision.

“I don’t want her in jail for something she didn’t do,” Linda answered back with words that were dry and fragile. Josie chased after them, collecting Linda’s wishes like fall leaves and bringing them back to drop in Linda’s lap.

“Then don’t throw her away. Don’t abandon her. A mother can’t do anything worse than that.” 

Linda glanced at Kip. She hung her head and curved toward Josie.  They were a conspiracy of two, excluding Kip.  This was between them, women who understood a child’s life was at stake.

“Can you win?” Linda whispered, and the undercurrent of absolute terror didn’t escape Josie’s notice. She felt it, too. 

“I’ll give it everything I’ve got, Linda.  Your gut said to trust me, so trust your gut now.”  There was a heartbeat of silence, a bubble of apprehension surrounded Josie and Linda. Josie held tighter, whispered more urgently. “Let me try.”

Linda slid one hand from Josie’s and then the other. She put her fingers to her lips.  They trembled. From behind them she called to her husband who stood apart, his eyes shuttered, his body taut.

“Kip?”

“You decide, Linda. She’s your daughter.”

Josie closed her eyes. Those words were so cruel, so unnecessary.  She willed Kip Rayburn to give his wife a sign that he would stand beside her. He didn’t. Linda would have to stand on her own. She did it well.

“I want you to try, Josie. I owe Hannah so much.”

Josie dropped her head. Linda’s pain of indecision was real, but Josie couldn’t believe there was even a choice here. If Hannah were her daughter, Kip Rayburn would have eaten their dust.

Exhausted, relieved, Josie stood up. She walked back to her chair and picked up her briefcase. She had to pass Kip Rayburn as she left. She stopped beside him. They would need him.

“It’s for the best, Mr. Rayburn.  I promise you. No one will think differently.”

“We all have to do what we think is right,” he said quietly, his back to her. Josie started to leave but he called to her, walked toward her, and spoke to her.  “Just so we’re clear. I don’t like the way you’re playing with our lives. My father is dead, and I think Hannah had something to do with it. I don’t know what it was, I don’t know how she did it, I don’t know if she actually lit the match, but I’m telling you she’s trouble. So, go ahead and prepare your case. I’ll pay your fee. I’ll sit in that courtroom and support my wife, but don’t you expect me to root for you after what you did to my family tonight.  Do you understand?”

“Sure,” Josie muttered, knowing she didn’t understand anything about this family – especially where Hannah fit in.

12

Josie breathed deep, filling lungs that seemed to have had all the air sucked out of them. This was not the triumph of architectural living space she originally thought. It was an exquisite tomb, and the time spent in it made her feel intellectually brittle and emotionally dry.  Hannah, Kip and Linda, all with their own issues, their own guilt, their own needs, were now going to be locked together through the eternity of this trial because Josie had forced the issue.

The things Josie had known when she arrived - the trial schedule, the essence of her strategy – now seemed less the beginning of a stunningly constructed defense and more a desperate attempt to dazzle a jury that would have the same concerns that Kip had. Worst of all, she hated Kip for making this so damned personal. Josie didn’t know if she fought hard because she believed in Hannah, because she wanted to prove that she could win, or because Kip Rayburn’s reticence seemed inhuman even under the circumstances.

Still, it bothered Josie that she hadn’t acknowledged the fundamental problem. In this family the accused and the victim’s survivor were linked together by the tenuous thread of Linda. One of them would lose – or perhaps all of them – and still Josie would be standing. She could retreat to her office at Baxter & Associates when this was all over. She had an escape route. She wasn’t in danger of losing a husband, or a daughter. That realization put Linda in a whole new light. She deserved a heck of a lot of respect for what she’d done tonight.

Josie walked back over the flesh colored tiles, past the horridly graphic statue and thought of Hannah, a girl who had no say in her future.  Hannah was Fritz Rayburn’s charity case; not even a blip on the radar for Kip. Maybe that was what bothered Josie the most. They spoke of Hannah as if she was a leaking faucet that annoyed everyone, but not enough to fix it once and for all.

Josie pushed open the huge copper door and walked back out to the real world.

The stars were brilliant.  A near full moon made the white sand sparkle, and spilled a shimmering path of light right down the center of the ocean. Josie lifted her face as a surprisingly cool breeze sifted through her hair.  The night was pungent with sea smells, but still she was ill at ease. Something was forgotten. It wasn’t until Josie saw Hannah sitting behind the wheel of her Jeep that Josie remembered what it was. She should have said goodbye to her client.

“Hey,” Hannah called as Josie ambled toward the Jeep. The floodlights made the black finish look like onyx and Hannah like a vision.

“I thought you were going to leave without saying anything to me.” Hannah’s lashes covered her eyes in a long, languid motion. Her head swirled and when she looked at Josie again her expression was almost vacant.

“I was,” Josie admitted.  Whoever said the truth never hurt anyone was wrong.  It hurt Josie. She wasn’t sure what it did to Hannah. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forgotten. I was just thrown off base a little by our meeting.”

“Still trying to figure out what happened?”

“I guess so,” Josie admitted. She put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder and gave her a gentle shove. “Move over.”

Hannah crawled over the gearshift into the passenger seat. Her right hand touched the door handle as she settled herself in the new place. Josie waited, forcing herself not to count along.  When Hannah was done, she said:

“Kip’s jealous, that’s what it is. He’s supposed to be getting all the attention and everything, but I’m getting it.  Plus, he doesn’t like things to be complicated. I’m the complication. The trial is a complication and now you are, too.”

“What about your mom? She doesn’t think you’re a complication, does she?”

Hannah whispered. “My mom loves me. Nobody can say different.”

“I didn’t mean to imply that.”  Josie put her head back on the seat and looked up at the sky. Hannah’s defensiveness was familiar.  Josie had been that way about her own mother at Hannah’s age. The difference was that Josie wasn’t sure if her mother actually did love her.

“She wants to make sure we stay safe,” Hannah went on as if she hadn’t heard Josie. “She’d do anything to make sure we stay safe. I know she thinks it would be better for both of us if you could just get the District Attorney to send me to a hospital. Kip just thinks it would be easier.”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s messed up and so do you,” Hannah laughed. It was the first time Josie had heard her do that. It was a beautiful sound and gone too quickly.

“How do you know that’s what I think?” Josie laughed, too. It felt good on a night like this when everything else looked so dark and desperate.

“The master control on the intercom is in the kitchen.  I heard you fight for me. I didn’t hear all of it. I thought mom was coming. She thinks I don’t know about the hospital thing.”

Josie sat up, retrieved her baseball hat and took her keys out of the console. “So, now that we’ve got that out of the way, is there something you want to tell me?”

“Yeah, I came out here to check on your car twelve times. Then I sat in it and waited for you,” Hannah said.

 “And….” Josie prodded, not quite getting the point, anxious to be home.

“Twelve times. Not twenty. Shit, twelve times!” Hannah threw up her hands.  She shook her head, angry and frustrated. Her burned hand hit the console hard, keeping double time with her words.  “Shit, shit, shit! I thought you’d get it. That’s a good thing.”

Josie laughed again in spite of herself. She stopped Hannah. Held her hand before the girl reached twenty hits.

“A breakthrough,” Josie said softly.

“It’s not funny,” Hannah jerked away.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m proud of you. Twelve is better than twenty and two would be better than twelve. Hey, simple arithmetic,” Josie assured her.

 “Do you think I could do that?” Hannah stared straight ahead, rigid next to Josie, waiting for her to predict failure.

“Sure, why not?” Josie put her key in the ignition. She turned her head and looked at Hannah. “We’ve got a couple of weeks before things get going, Hannah. If you could get to two that would be good. If you didn’t count at all that would be great.”

“Maybe. I won’t promise.”

Sadly Hannah’s expression was blank again, the laughter gone. Josie would have given anything to know what was behind that beautiful mask. Some lies, some information withheld, but the bottom line was real; Hannah wanted to be defended and that’s all Josie had to know.

“No problem. I know there aren’t any promises, so don’t worry.”   They sat in silence. The night was so big Josie felt as if it could sallow up their problems. Hannah had a different thought altogether.

“I’m not an idiot, you know.”

“I never said you were,” Josie sighed. Children were hard to deal with; children who were on the verge of adulthood must be the hardest of all.  Maybe she’d been too difficult for Emily, and that was a sad thought.

“I just want you to know that I’m afraid. I would be a real idiot if I wasn’t. I can’t show it, but for me to know I’m afraid is good. That’s a big step.”

“Then I’m glad because you should be afraid,” Josie said quietly.

“Are you?”  Hannah asked.

“Afraid?”  Josie kept her eyes on the stars. It wasn’t a hard question; it was just hard to answer out loud.

“Yeah,” Josie whispered. “I am, but probably not for the reasons you think. You’re so young. You have such a long life ahead. There’s always a chance I won’t win.”

“And then there’s the thing you told me about that other person you defended, the person who shouldn’t have gotten off.”

“Sure. There’s that.  It’s history,” Josie said quietly. She wouldn’t burden Hannah with the story of the crime; she wouldn’t scare her with the story of Rudy Klein’s desire to avenge that loss.

“Good. You have to think about me as someone who deserves to win, Josie. Someone who is totally, totally innocent. I want you to think about me that way, okay?”

 With that, Hannah climbed out of the car.  She didn’t get far before she turned and came back. She touched the Jeep and left again.

“Goodnight, Hannah,” Josie called and started the car.

Once again Hannah ran back toward the Jeep but this time she went to the driver’s side. One of Josie’s hands was on the gearshift; the other was on the steering wheel. Hannah stood so close Josie couldn’t have left without backing over her. Fast as lightening Hannah touched Josie twice, near caresses given with such gentleness, such hope, such raw need and intimacy they unnerved Josie.

“Two times,” Hannah whispered and then she was gone.

Kip Rayburn pulled the little chain on the desk lamp and opened the drawer to his right. Inside was his Los Angeles BAR address book.  He took it out and turned the pages, found the number he wanted, and dialed.

He crossed his legs and waited. The phone was answered on the second ring and Kip asked to speak to Rudy Klein. Kip’s hand was clammy. His heart beat just a little faster. The things he had done tonight: challenging people, becoming angry, thinking ahead, taking his shot - were so out of character.  It felt good; it was frightening.  He could still hang up, but then Rudy said hello.

“Yes. Mr. Klein. This is Kip Rayburn.”

Rudy Klein didn’t seem surprised to hear from him but then that was the sign of a good lawyer. Nothing should surprise a good lawyer - or a good criminal for that matter. Minimal pleasantries were exchanged before Rudy asked what he could do for Kip.

“I received a call from your office some days ago, Mr. Klein,” Kip said. “I understand you would like to interview me.”

“I’m hoping you’ll cooperate.  I know it will be difficult given your relationship with Ms. Sheraton. I promise to do everything I can to get information I need from other sources, but . . .

“That’s fine, Mr. Klein. You don’t have to worry.  You’ll have no problem with me. I’ll cooperate in any interview and will answer a subpoena if necessary,” Kip interrupted. To his credit, Rudy asked no questions. He thanked Kip.

The two men hung up.  Kip Rayburn kept his hand on the receiver, thinking he might actually pick it up again and tell Klein that it had all been a mistake. There really wasn’t any need to testify. Not yet. Maybe he should have waited to see how things went before putting himself out there. Then he thought again. Ian Frank had been right. Preemptive strikes were weapons of the powerful. Only fools waited until they were on the spot and Kip had been a fool for years, waiting until things with his father got out of hand before trying to put a stop to them. No, he’d done the right thing. Expedite. Expedite.

“Kip? Are you coming to bed?”

Startled, Kip took his hand off the phone. Linda stood in the doorway – tall and gorgeous - looking at him curiously. She was different since Hannah had been arrested; they were different together, too, and not in a bad way. Kip took a deep breath. He would have to tell her. He would have to tell her soon what he was doing.

“Don’t you want to come to bed?” She asked and those long fingers of hers trailed across the deep neckline of her negligee.

Yes. He’d have to tell her sooner - or later.

“Was that business, daddy?”

“Yeah, sport, that was business.” Rudy Klein scooped up his son and threw him over his shoulder.  Mikey giggled, the way five-year-old boys will, as Rudy twirled him around once for good measure. “Yeah, that was business, and now I’m going to give you the business.”

Mikey laughed louder as Rudy carted him down the hall like a sack of potatoes. He sang a song about the wheels on a bus and bounced on his dad’s shoulder.  Rudy breathed in the scent of his boy as they went.  Soap and powder, the smell of a child’s soft skin that would disappear in the next few years; there was nothing like it. Rudy never wanted to forget any of it. The same way he wouldn’t forget the sound of Mikey’s laughter, the feel of those chubby hands against his back, the voice that was as clear as an angel’s, the all too precious moments of childhood that Rudy was allowed to share as his little boy was shuttled between mother and father.