Authors: Rebecca Forster
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Legal, #Suspense
“Did you ever once think about Hannah?”
“That’s all I did, you bitch,” Linda hissed. She threw herself away from Josie and curled up against the wall. “I didn’t mean to kill Fritz. I just wanted him to be reasonable. But he laughed at me. He called me names. He told me I was trash. I hit him. He fell. There was blood. After that, I knew it would be more than a divorce if Fritz had his way. He’d prosecute me, and he’d enjoy it. So I tried to cover it up.” Linda chuckled a little. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder and brushed at it. “I guess it didn’t surprise me when the cops figured out Fritz hadn’t exactly died a natural death, but what did surprise me was Hannah. I thought after a few nights in jail she’d give me up. The stupid little piece of useless baggage loves me. Don’t get me wrong I love her, too. I’m not saying the choice was easy. But the closer you got to trying to put this off on Kip, the more I knew it was her or me. That’s what it really boiled down to. Just survival. It’s always been about that.”
Linda’s voice trailed off. She blinked as if she couldn’t see clearly any longer.
“You know, when Hannah was in the hospital I prayed that she would die. Not just for me, but for her, too. She wouldn’t have to worry anymore. She wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. Hannah could go to heaven and count angels with God.”
“No, Linda. You wanted Hannah to die because it would be easier for you. She’s not the bitch, Linda, but then you’ve known that all along.”
Before she got the last word out Linda flew forward, hand raised, and slapped Josie, catching her behind the ear. Josie fell to the side, her head hitting a chest of drawers. There was a taste of blood but it was inside her mouth, somewhere she couldn’t quite locate. She righted herself. On all fours, Josie let her head hang as she tried to keep still until the room stopped spinning, praying Linda wouldn’t hit her again. Her prayers were answered. Linda stood up and walked circles around Josie.
“You're just as bad as she is. Always passing judgment. Oh, you never said anything when we were in college but that judgmental thing was always there. Just like Hannah. It was in your eyes. In the way you did just the opposite of what I would do. It was always there in the way you wouldn’t say things, Josie. Jesus, you two are like nuns. Like martyrs. I hate martyrs.”
Linda was breathing hard. It took a lot of energy to tell her version of the truth. Josie raised her head. The pain behind her eyes was excruciating, the ringing in her ears agonizing, the story fascinating. She closed her eyes and waited, opening them when she felt a touch. Linda had hunkered down and put her fingers under Josie’s chin. She was lifting it. Josie saw stars when she tried to yank her face away.
“Josie,” Linda said conversationally, “there just wasn’t any choice. What would happen to Hannah if I went to jail? Who would take care of a crazy, half-breed kid like her better than I did? Do you think Kip was going to step up to the plate?”
“There were other choices, Linda,” Josie said. “You could have left Kip.”
Linda barked a laugh. She poked at Josie’s shoulder.
“Oh right, like I was going to leave Kip? I’m forty years old. My looks aren’t going to last forever. I’m not a lawyer. How would I have supported Hannah? How would I have paid for all those doctors?”
“Maybe if you just made a living and loved your kid, she wouldn’t need all those doctors,” Josie answered back.
Linda shook her head; her hand was swift, moving in a knife-like, manic gesture, “Still telling me what’s best for me and mine. God, do you ever stop?”
She grew quiet and thoughtful as she fooled with the fingers of her glove. Her brow furrowed.
“The only thing I feel bad about is Fritz hurting Hannah.” She looked up; her gaze seemed sharper than usual. “The funny thing is, if I had known about it Fritz would still be alive. I could have threatened to tell about the abuse; he’d have to stop messing with Hannah and back off the divorce thing. It would have been a damn simple Mexican standoff.” Linda pushed Josie, clipping her shoulder. She was so angry. “What in the hell are you looking at? What have you been looking at all this time?”
Josie’s head lolled from side to side. She looked disoriented, confused. She slurred her speech.
“Your shoes,” she managed to say.
“What about them?”
Carefully Josie sat back, feigning confusion. Her head still hurt but the nausea caused by Linda’s blow was almost gone. Josie reached for the photos, finally finding the one she wanted. Sitting on her heels, Josie handed it to Linda.
“What is this?”
“Hannah’s footprints outside the door where the fire started,” Josie whispered.
“So?”
“Her footprints are on top of the ash,” Josie said.
“So?” Linda drew the word out until it sounded like an obscenity.
“Underneath the ash are indentations.” Josie took a deep breath trying to clear her head, disgusted at the simplicity of it all. “Just like the soles of those driving shoes you’re wearing. Tod’s. Shallow, rounded cleats.” Josie swung her head up. She felt a hell of a lot better now. “You walked into the west wing before the fire started and you walked out before there was ash on the ground. Hannah saw what you did. She walked through the ash into a burning house to save her paintings. You ran away. Hannah could have died in there. You. . . are. . .such. . . . a bitch.”
With that, Josie lunged for Linda’s leg and swiped it from beneath her, chopping to the back of her knee. Linda’s leg buckled and she let out a cry of surprise and grasped at the side table. The table toppled: the lamp fell. Caught up in it, Linda tried to throw it away but succeeded only in pulling the plug out of the socket.
In the dark Josie scrambled up, balancing herself on the tips of her fingers. She took the first step in a sprint for the door but the glossy photographs were like black ice. Her front foot slid out from beneath her. Josie landed in a split that sent her sprawling before she tucked into a roll, protecting her head as she hit the doorjamb. A second later she scrambled up, grabbed for the door and pulled herself forward. Behind her, Linda swallowed a bellow of rage.
Just as determined, Linda charged. A bigger woman, she hit the wall hard with her shoulder but Josie was faster. She threw herself into the living room, lost her balance then righted herself. The sense of triumph didn’t last long. Linda was on her, clutching at Josie’s leg, pulling hard enough to lay Josie face down and flat. In a second, Linda had Josie’s left arm in a lock behind her back. Straddling her, Linda Rayburn leaned over until she was lying on top of Josie, pushing the breath out of her. Linda’s cheek was against Josie’s hair, her lips near Josie’s ear.
“What are we going to do now, Josie?” Linda pulled harder, wrenching Josie’s arm until it felt like it was being pulled from its socket.
“Don’t be stupid, Linda.” Josie huffed, barely able to breathe much less speak. “You’ve left enough trace evidence in this place to make a case.”
“And so has that idiot, Miggy. He’ll be the first one they go after if I kill you. Your friend Archer will back me up, won’t he? Bet he knows Miggy was here. My fingerprints aren’t on anything but I’d bet a million that his are. I’d bet. . . “
Josie heard it before Linda did. Max’s growl. Josie strained to see him but her face was pressed hard into the floor. She caught a glimpse of him struggling to his feet. He barked loud and long.
“Shut up!” Linda screamed and yanked harder on Josie’s arm. “Shut him up!”
Josie cried out in pain. Max lunged but he was old and didn’t get very far. He growled and snapped as Linda fought him off, scuttling off Josie long enough to kick the animal in the chest. Max yelped, and then the yelp turned to a whimper. Josie looked back in time to see him stumble and Linda go after him in a blind fury. Linda screamed and kicked him again and again. She picked up a lamp and clubbed him. Max went down, his legs giving out as he backed away.
It was all the time Josie needed. She ran to the hall and into the dining room heading for the back door. Linda was on her in a second but Josie twisted away and reeled into the dining room wall. Above her, her mother’s plates shook loose. One hit Josie’s shoulder, the other hit the floor with the crack of gunfire as it shattered.
Linda whirled toward the sound. Locked in on Josie, Linda hurtled across the room, tossing chairs out of her way. Her hip hit the table and threw it off center. Josie pushed back against the wall and sank to the floor, steeling herself for the assault. Linda would be on her before Josie knew it. She watched. She waited. Linda drove forward, thinking of nothing but keeping Josie from telling her secrets, thinking only of herself, and that was Linda Rayburn’s downfall.
No strategy.
No patience.
No game.
She lunged.
Terrified, Josie still held her ground, judged Linda’s trajectory and moved at the last possible moment. Gripping a shard of pottery Josie raised her hand and slashed. She felt the give as the sharp edge of the plate fragment hit skin and tore through veins; Josie prayed she could hold on long enough for it to work through an artery. Instantly, Josie’s hand was covered in blood. It spurted onto her face and into her hair.
Josie turned her face away but it was too late. The blood was in her mouth, her eyes, on Linda Rayburn as she fell into Josie Baylor-Bates’ arms. The impact sent them both skidding across the wooden floor, crashing into the corner of the room.
Josie’s hand was still on the shard of porcelain and that shard was still buried in Linda Rayburn’s throat when the outside door was kicked open. The last thing Josie saw was a gun, a man in blue and Linda Rayburn’s bloody neck as she was lifted off her.
40
“In a stunning turn of events, Linda Rayburn was indicted for the murder of California State Supreme Court Justice, Fritz Rayburn. She is being held without bail pending her trial. You may recall that her daughter, Hannah Sheraton, pled guilty to the crime but new evidence showed that . . .” ABC News
Josie turned off the ignition. She knew the story by heart. Newspapers, radio, television, there wasn’t a reporter in the country who hadn’t called her for a comment. She had declined them all.
The sun had come back with a vengeance and October was looking like a record setter. Taking off her baseball cap Josie tossed it in the back seat, slid her sunglasses down her nose and checked out her black eye in the rear-view mirror. It wasn’t looking too bad. More green than purple, the bruise should be gone in another week. Her left arm was in a sling but she cheated and opened the door with her left hand anyway. After all, her arm wasn’t broken, just a good old-fashioned dislocation.
She took a deep breath and stepped down from the Jeep. It seemed a lifetime ago since she’d been here to meet Hannah. Thanks to Archer she was alive to remember the first time. Surprised by Linda, Josie hadn’t hung up the phone just right. When Archer got back from Burt’s his answering machine was still recording the sounds of a struggle. He led the charge. He brought the cavalry. Archer wrapped Josie up in his arms and carried her to the ambulance. Not a word was said. What he felt was in his touch, and in his eyes. That was Archer’s way. He found Max and got him to the vet. Since then he had nursed them both with such tenderness, in such watchful silence, that Josie wept with gratitude when she was alone. No one had ever treated her as if they were afraid to lose her. But now she was well and Archer had kissed her goodbye, knowing what was being done today had to be done alone.
Josie crossed the parking lot, opened the door to Sybil Brand prison, checked with the officer in charge and waited for Hannah Sheraton to be released.
Ten minutes later, Hannah stood in the doorway and for the hundredth time Josie Baylor-Bates was struck by her beauty. That skin was still the color of milk chocolate; her green eyes were still as clear and bright as an emerald. The only thing that was different was Hannah Sheraton walked toward Josie Baylor-Bates and stopped only twice to step back and begin again.
Hannah smiled softly, sadly. She put out her hand. It was completely healed but still carried the scars of the fire. Josie nodded. She smiled. She touched Hannah’s hand and then her hair.
“I think you’re going to start a trend.”
Hannah’s hand went to the tight curls of the new hair that was growing in over her scar. Broken, mended, always a scar. Just like the hula girl plate. The tongue and nose studs were gone. The heavy bandages on her arm were gone. The make-up was gone. Everything about her was bare and fragile as if she was rice paper waiting for the gentle stroke of a brush to define her.
“Maybe,” Hannah said shyly. Awkwardly, she pointed to Josie’s eye. “You’re hurt, too.”
“So, I guess we’ve got something in common,” Josie said. She put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Together they walked out the door. The prison was behind them, the Jeep in front. Josie rounded to the driver’s side. She took her time getting in and winced when she reached in the back for her hat. Hannah stopped her. She was the one who got the baseball cap and put it on Josie. Hannah leaned back and made sure it was straight.
“Okay?” Josie asked, touched by the gesture. Hannah nodded and both of them sat in silence, looking at the prison.
“Josie?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry for my mom. I’m sorry for everything. ”
“It’s all right.”
Josie took the keys from her pocket. But Hannah wouldn’t leave it at that.
“I just couldn’t tell you what really happened. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever understand it. I can’t imagine giving up my life for anyone, not even my mother,” Josie said. She fiddled with the keys, knowing they had to have this conversation but somehow wanting to just skip over it, leave it behind. “If you’re asking if I’m upset with you, I’m not. Everybody does what they have to do.”
“You’re not even mad about what she tried to do to you?” Hannah asked.
Josie twisted, sitting gingerly so she could look Hannah in the eye.
“I’m not exactly happy. In fact, I’m royally ticked off. I’ve never had anyone try to kill me before. But, Hannah, that’s what your mother did and you are not your mother. I’m not my mother. How can I be angry with you for something she did?”
Hannah lowered her lashes, “Because I am her. I lied like my mother lies. If I told you the truth, then you wouldn’t be hurt.”
“That doesn’t make you her, Hannah,” Josie assured her. “You stayed quiet because you loved her. Your mom wanted to protect her money and her security. She was willing to gamble with your life and all the while you were protecting hers. There’s a big difference.”
Hannah’s eyes were trained on the low-slung building where she could have possibly spent the rest of her life.
“I don’t think she thought of it as gambling. She had a plan, but it just didn’t work out the right way and she got scared. You know that snowball thing? First she figured she wouldn’t get caught. Then she figured you would get me off. When you wanted to go to trial you just painted her into a corner. You have to understand, my mom has been scared her whole life.”
“And you haven’t been scared?” Josie asked quietly.
“Not the way she is. I’ve never been scared like that.”
Josie touched the bill of her cap; she tipped her face toward the sun. It was so hot. It felt so good. She wanted to be on Archer’s balcony. Instead, she was back in school, rooming with Linda Rayburn. Josie spoke more to herself than to Hannah.
“Your mom used to act like she had the world on a string. I don’t know what happened.”
“Nothing happened,” Hannah answered. “She was always afraid of being alone, of having nothing. She used to curl up in a corner and cry when she didn’t have someone to take care of her. I took care of her. That was my job because she gave me life. I would have taken care of her forever.” Hannah sniffed. She put her elbow up on the window. “Who’ll take care of her in there? Who’ll take care of her when she’s scared?”
“I don’t know, honey,” Josie said truthfully.
“I don’t think she deserves to go to prison,” Hannah whispered. “Not really.”
Josie looked toward the prison. They didn’t speak. They looked at that place the same way they had watched the stars in Malibu the night Hannah counted only to two. The night Hannah had touched Josie’s hand and her heart and her mind. Finally Josie asked the question that seemed so obvious to her but had flown under Hannah’s radar.
“Did you deserve to be there?”
Hannah closed her eyes and pulled her bottom lip under her teeth. So like her mother but so much her own, brave woman. Josie didn’t wait for a response because it would be a long, long time before Hannah would be honest enough with herself to answer it.
Josie put the key in the ignition and started the car. Hannah opened her eyes. She put on her seat belt and looked straight ahead. Josie wondered if Hannah was well enough to see the future, or was just taking a last look at a place she never wanted to see again.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they turned toward the freeway.
“Haven’t got a clue,” Josie answered. “Let’s try to figure it out at my place.”
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