by A R Kennedy
With more conviction this time, he asked, “Why did Bobby Gabbert choose to attack Cecilia Chandler?”
“I know who you’re talking about Pugliese.” There were no other people this town was talking about. “I’m asking what you’re talking about. What does it matter why?”
“I guess it doesn’t. But it bothers me.” The why—the why always bothered Vinnie.
“Bothers you? A woman is arrested after being attacked on her property and this is what bothers you!” He slammed the coffeepot back onto the burner.
“I was just wondering—”
“I got enough to deal with without your ruminations. Get back to work.” Owens finished stirring the sugar into his coffee and threw the stirrer into the trash. The same question had floated through his mind the first night. If he thought it could help Cecilia, he’d look into it in a heartbeat. But why Gabbert attacked her didn’t matter.
“I’m off duty,” Pugliese explained.
Owens headed out of the break room. “Then get out of the station.”
“Well, I was wondering, could I look into it?” he asked.
“Look into it? Do we not have enough to do!” Owens stomped away, murmuring under his breath.
“Well, I didn’t hear a no,” Pugliese mumbled when the Chief was out of earshot.
With a few quick taps on her phone and a brief phone call, Abigail ordered lunch.
Cecilia didn’t know any restaurants in town that delivered. Maybe for her, they wouldn’t have. For the famous Wyatt Sewell, rules were different.
Cecilia wasn’t hungry. Having been forced to sit all morning, recounting the attack, the pain in her back was severe. She lay down on the couch, Ferris at her side, until Michael called her back in.
The remnants of their lunch were gone and they were ready to get back to work. Michael and Abigail set up their devices for round two. Mr. Sewell didn’t speak until they both nodded, signaling they were ready.
“Thank you for your thorough recollection of the attack. I’m sure that was difficult for you,” Mr. Sewell told her. Cecilia nodded. “Now I have some additional questions.”
He pulled out a transcript of the morning’s proceedings. It was typed, with areas highlighted in yellow. She could see neat handwritten notes on the margins.
Cecilia looked around her dining room. It no longer resembled the dining room where she had held romantic dinners with Joey. Or where holiday dinners were hosted, before JJ died. It was now an office. In the lunch break, besides eating, they had set up a printer, two laptops, and a router.
“When the Chief came to speak to you, did he read you your rights?” Mr. Sewell began.
She paused and furrowed her eyebrows. “You mean, ‘You have the right to remain silent’?”
“Yes, did one of them read you your Miranda rights?”
She thought for a moment before answering. “No, he and the other officer just came in to talk to me.” Cecilia had never felt she was in danger of being arrested. When they had started, she hadn’t even known the intruder was dead. Regardless, she thought she was protected by the law Joey had once told her about. She had protected herself and her family on her property. If they had read her the Miranda rights, she would have known she was in trouble.
She didn’t miss the smiles the three exchanged. “Love a small town, right?” Michael whispered. Abigail nodded agreement.
“Did you feel your life was at risk during the attack by the intruder?” Mr. Sewell asked.
“Of course I did.” Had they not listened to her recounting of the night? “He had a knife. He had me pinned to the ground. He was beating me. He was going to rape me. He would have killed me if he didn’t get what he wanted.”
“At the moment you shot,” he clarified, “did you feel your life was in immediate danger?”
“Of course, I was still in danger. Well, not my life exactly…but Ferris. His life was in immediate danger. He had a knife to his throat.”
Again, they exchanged glances. This time they weren’t as pleased.
“It was either he raped me or he killed Ferris,” Cecilia said. “That was my choice.”
“At any point was the intruder in your home?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen. She could see the mess the kitchen had been, covered in her blood. “I…I never saw him in the house.”
“Could he have been in the house?” Mr. Sewell asked.
“You mean that night? Or at any time?”
“That night,” Sewell clarified.
“I…I don’t know. I left the door open when I ran in for the gun. I should have closed the door, I should have locked the door. I should have—”
Noticing the oncoming emotions, Sewell interrupted her and asked, “How did the intruder get Ferris?”
“I…I don’t know.” The intruder could have come in and taken him out or Ferris could have run out after him. Cecilia didn’t know.
It had been bad enough recounting the attack. But this was worse, questions she didn’t have answers for. Realizing her errors. What she should have done. She looked at her watch. They’d only been back from lunch fifteen minutes.
Sewell whispered to Abigail, “Check the crime scene photos.” She nodded and made a note. Abigail’s list of things to do must be enormous.
Abigail’s phone rang and she looked to Sewell. He nodded for her to take it. “Okay, let’s take ten,” he told them. Abigail left the room to take the phone call.
“Anyone thirsty?” Michael asked as he headed to the kitchen. Ferris followed him.
“No,” Sewell answered. He remained in his chair and flipped through a file in front of him. Cecilia remained glued to her chair. She didn’t think her legs could support her if she tried to stand.
“Something on your mind, Cecilia?” Sewell asked.
That was a loaded question. There was a lot on her mind, not least of which was the possibility of spending the rest of her life in prison.
“Why was I arrested, Mr. Sewell? I thought it was a justified shooting.”
He motioned for her to sit in the chair next to him. She slowly got up, glad her legs could support her. Using the table for support, she walked around to his side of the table. He turned the chairs so they were looking at each other. “First, call me Wyatt.”
She nodded. “Joey told me that if I ever shot someone in our home it would be alright. Some Castle law, defending a man’s castle. Something like that.”
“There’s some interpretation within the law.” He took a moment to collect his thoughts so he could explain this to a layman as best he could. “Every state is a bit different and we’ve been familiarizing ourselves with this state’s laws. Self-defense laws vary by state. Some states have stand your ground laws, meaning you don’t have to retreat if you’re threatened, even if you’re not on your property. Some have the Castle Doctrine, where you don’t have to retreat if you’re on your property. And some have a duty to retreat, where if threatened you have to retreat. You can only use deadly force as a last resort.”
Cecilia couldn’t imagine a situation in which one wouldn’t use deadly force unless it was a last resort. She also couldn’t see how she had violated the law, regardless of which law her state had. “And this state?” she asked.
“Yes, this is a Castle Doctrine state.”
“Yep, that’s what Joey said. So I was on my property, threatened and I, inadvertently really, used deadly force. I was just trying to scare him away. I…I never thought I’d kill him. What am I missing?”
“One, when claiming self-defense, you have to prove it. It’s really your word versus a dead man’s.” He leaned in. “Some people lie, you know.”
She mocked shock. “You don’t say.”
He returned to his upright posture and resumed his lecture. “Self-defense laws mean you can protect yourself and your family.”
She nodded. She understood that. Before and after the shooting. “That’s what I did.”
“Yes, that’s what I did.” Cecilia knew she wasn’t a lawyer but how could Wyatt, and the prosecutor Briscoe, not see she hadn’t violated the law. “I protected my family.”
“You protected your dog,” he corrected.
“Yes, Ferris.” Having heard his name, Ferris returned to the dining room, his entrance signaled by his e-collar hitting the doorway. He sat next to her and she rubbed Ferris’s back. She hadn’t violated the law. She had protected their family, their Ferris. Wyatt looked from Cecilia to Ferris and back again. He had a sad smile on his face while he waited for Cecilia to understand. “Are you saying Ferris isn’t family?”
Cecilia had often heard there were dog people and not dog people. She had never thought about it herself until Ferris’s arrival. She had always felt neutral regarding animals. She didn’t know if she was a dog person but she was a Ferris person.
“No, I’m not saying Ferris isn’t family. I’ve got two dogs at home, Klondike and Snickers. I love them. I love them like they’re part of my family.” She expected him to pull up photos of them on his phone. He didn’t. “I agree with you. They’re family.”
“But…” She waited.
“But the law doesn’t agree.”
“Well, if he’s not family, in the eyes of the law, what is he?”
“Property.”
Holden was summoned to Dan Briscoe’s office at the courthouse.
“That Sewell held a news conference.” Briscoe pointed to the television. “Did you see it? The slimy bastard.”
Holden found that ironic coming from Briscoe.
Using air quotes, Briscoe said, “Mrs. Chandler is too distraught to attend this press conference.” He turned on the television. “He showed her picture. Her wedding picture!” CNN was replaying the impromptu news conference, held on Mrs. Chandler’s front porch. Flanked by his assistants, Mr. Sewell began talking about Mrs. Chandler. He held up an eight-by-ten photograph of her on her wedding day. Radiant was the only word Holden could think of to describe her.
Holden couldn’t remember his own bride being that beautiful on their wedding day. But too many arguments had tarnished all the good memories of his ex-wife.
“Trying to sway the media to their side,” Briscoe mumbled.
“Isn’t that what you were trying to do at your news conference?” Holden asked.
Briscoe shot him a look. “I don’t need to sway the media. I’ve got the law on my side.”
Not justice, Holden thought.
Briscoe paused the television. “Marcy,” he yelled. She scurried in, pad and pen in hand. “Get me everything you can on Robert Gabbert.” She paused. This was going to take her some time. The files on Gabbert was immense. “All the good stuff. There has to be good stuff.” She scurried out.
Holden couldn’t take his eyes off the frozen image of Mrs. Chandler’s bridal picture from the television.
CHAPTER 20
Cecilia was sitting in the living room, scrolling through work emails when she heard a light tapping. She looked at Ferris, who had also heard the noise.
Both of them perked up when they heard the noise again. Tap, tap, tap. Ferris led the way toward the noise, which when it happened a third time, they garnered was coming from the kitchen. Ferris only hit his protective collar once in his route to the kitchen.
Ferris ran to the sliding glass door, jumped up, and licked the glass. When he returned to all fours, Cecilia let out a short scream. Chief Owens was standing outside the door, but not in his police uniform. He was dressed all in black, with a headlamp, light on, across his forehead. He gave an awkward wave. Cecilia put in the alarm code and opened the door.
He slid in and promptly closed and locked the door. She stood at the door and marveled at the dark backyard. He looked around the first floor, ensuring all the shades were closed. Ferris followed him.
“How’d you get through the yard without setting off the motion light?” Cecilia asked.
“Stealth,” he answered, pointing to his headlamp.
She turned to the front of the house. There was no commotion coming from the street. “How’d you get past the media trucks without them seeing you?”
“I told you, stealth.” He smiled and winked.
Cecilia tried to suppress a grin. “What are you doing here, Chief?” The last time Chief Owens was here he arrested her. The time before that, according to Mr. Sewell, Owens violated her rights by questioning her without reading her the Miranda warning.
“Please, it’s Holden.” He sat down on the same stool he had occupied during previous visits.
“Well, you do have half-naked pictures of me, Holden. Which I pray you have not shared with the other men at the station.” She stated it lightheartedly but stared at him with concern. Holden shook his head no. “Then, you can call me CeCe.” She waited for him to answer. He didn’t. “You’re not here to arrest me again, are you?”
He bristled when she mentioned the photos and then the arrest. He hated being reminded that he was the arresting officer. “Of course not,” he assured her.
Cecilia stood against the refrigerator and watched Ferris walk around the kitchen island. He was recovering much faster from his injuries than she was. Each day the bruises on her legs seemed to expand and get darker. She didn’t want to see what her back and face looked like. The pain and stiffness remained debilitating.
Each lap, Ferris got a bit faster. Soon he’d be running if she didn’t distract him. “Can you give him a treat?” she asked Holden, pointing to Ferris’s biscuit jar.
“Sure,” Holden answered, quickly getting up. He was glad to have a distraction from the mental images of her standing in front of him, only in her underwear. He had no trouble picturing that body free of bruises.
Trying to complete another lap, Ferris ran into Holden. Seeing the treat, he sat and waited. “Good boy, Ferris,” Holden said and handed him the treat.
Cecilia never took her eyes of Holden. He sat back down and she asked again. “Why are you here, Holden?”
“I realize this is a little risky but I wanted to check on you.”
“And you couldn’t have just called?” she asked.
“I didn’t want that appearing on your phone bill.”
“Why?” she asked, as she got out two Mountain Dews from the refrigerator.
“Briscoe will be running your life through a fine-tooth comb. Bank accounts, phone bills. You name it, he’s checking it now.”
She walked over to him and handed him the soda. The stiffness in her joints made the five-foot journey feel like a mile. She sat on the barstool across from Holden, slowly easing herself down, stifling a moan as she did.
“I guess it is risky for you professionally to check on the alleged murderer.” She looked at the windows, glad the shades were drawn. The media wouldn’t be able to report on her late-night visitor.
“No, I meant it’s risky because you have a gun.”
Her eyes bulged at the insinuation that she was dangerous. He suppressed a grin. She reminded him, “But you took that gun.”
“True,” he responded, nodding his head. He swiveled his head around. “But you might have more.”
“Oh no.” She shook her head vehemently. “One is enough. Too many actually.”
They both knew she didn’t have another gun. A complete search of the home had been completed after the shooting. For a few minutes, they drank their sodas in silence.
Holden tried to hide his surveillance of her but she could feel his eyes on her. He noticed every time she shifted her weight to try to find a comfortable spot on the stool and when she cringed as Ferris’s collar bumped into her leg. It should have been off-putting. But there was something about him that put her at ease and that was a rarity. She tried to remember the last person she met, other than Joey, who made her feel that way.
“How are the injuries?” Holden asked.
&n
bsp; “How do they look?” She pointed to her face. “I’m avoiding mirrors to avoid scaring myself.”
Holden didn’t want to lie to her but he certainly couldn’t tell her the truth. The left side of her face was one big bruise. Big and purple and larger than when he had last seen her. Her split lip was puffier. He understood why she winced every time she took a sip of the Mountain Dew.
Cecilia interpreted the silence. “That bad, huh?” she asked.
“It’ll clear. In a week, or maybe two, it’ll be all gone. You’ll be back to your”—he started to say beautiful but didn’t—“back to your usual self.”
“But I’ll still be under house arrest.”
He wished he could comfort her but knew he couldn’t. Briscoe was out for blood. This was going to trial, whether they liked it or not.
Holden finished his drink and stood up. “I better be going.”
Cecilia stood up, slowly, as he walked by. He didn’t miss her grimace, despite her attempt to hide it. Holden put his headlamp back on his head and turned it on. A red light glared out. “Night vision,” he explained. “Stealth.”
Cecilia thought he looked like an alien with a third eye.
She didn’t notice the pain when she smiled. “You know you look ridiculous, right?” she told him as he slid out the back door into the darkness.
CHAPTER 21
Then
“You know you look ridiculous, right?” Janna said as Cecilia came out of the bathroom.
“You know I could have met you at the church.”
Janna scowled at her and took another drink from the minibar. A childish retort from her immature sister, Cecilia thought. She was quickly regretting asking Janna to be her “plus one” at Debbie’s wedding. Cecilia had wavered on the request. She knew Janna would jump at attending the posh wedding and reception. Cecilia had decided attending with her sister was better than the recent widow attending alone.
Not attending her sorority sister’s wedding had not been an option.