Just Cause
By Susan Page Davis
Just Cause, Copyright ©2018 by Susan Page Davis
Published by Tea Tin Press
Published in the U.S.A.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrical, chemical, mechanical, optical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. Inquiries may be sent by email through www.susanpagedavis.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is coincidental.
But the salvation of the righteous is of the Lord; He is their strength in the time of trouble. –Psalms 37:39
Prologue
Laurel Hatcher walked slowly down the long hallway behind the prison guard, her pulse hammering. When she stepped into the interview room, her lawyer, Jim Hight, was already there, standing behind the center table, his briefcase open.
“Hi, Laurel, how are you doing?” He towered over her at six feet, two inches and peered down at her. She slid into the chair opposite him, and Jim sat down. The guard closed the door and waited outside.
Laurel swallowed hard. “I’m okay.”
“You sure?”
She nodded. Jim wasn’t one to encourage emotional scenes, but he always showed concern for her. Of course, it was business, but she felt that some sort of respect lay between them. The last few weeks had splintered her courage and her self-respect, though, and she knew she couldn’t stay calm much longer.
“Just get me out of here.” Her voice shook, and she clutched the edge of the table.
“We’ve been granted another bail hearing tomorrow morning.”
She inhaled deeply, trying not to let the hope take root. “Do I get real clothes?”
“Not yet.”
Laurel wrinkled her nose.
“It’s all right to show a little emotion,” Jim said. “Let the judge see that you cared about your husband. We don’t want a major rainstorm in the courtroom, but a few tears would be appropriate.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
His brief smile was a bit cynical. “I know this is tough, but you’ve got to let the court see the real you tomorrow, not the crusty shell you’ve built up over the past few weeks.”
She exhaled. Could she stay tough for one more day inside the county jail, then suddenly become soft and vulnerable again when she stepped into the courtroom, ready to expose her shredded nerves to strangers?
“I’ll try.”
“Good. We’ve got judge Elliott, which is in our favor, but it will be tough to convince any judge to grant bail in a capital case. I think I can convince him that you’re not a flight risk. We’ll see what happens.”
“What about the evidence?” she asked.
“This is about your character. You have no prior record, and you’ve always been honest and dependable.”
“But the district attorney will try to keep me in here until the trial.”
“That’s standard in this type of case, and your in-laws are putting some pressure on him,” Jim admitted.
“But the prosecution wouldn’t be so insistent if they didn’t think I’m guilty.” The fear began to rise again inside her.
He sighed. “You’ve got to keep a positive outlook.”
“They turned us down the first time you asked for bail, and I’ve spent the last five weeks in jail.” Her voice cracked a little, and tears stung her eyes. She blinked and looked away. She didn’t need to hear him tell her to save her tears for the jury.
He watched her silently for a moment, and her doubts grew. He was a small-town lawyer, tall and gangly with thick glasses. She should have hired someone more dynamic, a powerhouse attorney with a proven track record on homicide cases. But with her assets tied up, that was impossible.
“What happens if they release me?”
He sat back and studied her face. “We’ll find a place for you to stay until the trial.”
“And if the judge refuses?”
He winced. “You’ve got to be prepared for that. I’m sorry. . . It will mean another eight to twelve months in here, I’m guessing.”
There ought to be more he could do. Why wasn’t he assuring her that they would win? Shouldn’t he be going over the prosecutor’s case and pointing out to her all the gaps in it? I could be in here for the rest of my life!
“So, you’re not optimistic about this hearing.”
“Not really.” His eyes didn’t quite meet hers.
“And for the trial?”
He hesitated, and her heart sank.
“I’m doing everything I can to build up a case that will counteract anything the prosecution can bring on.”
“But they have no proof.”
“I know. But there is some circumstantial evidence.” He shrugged apologetically. “We should be all right.”
Should be. She pulled in a ragged breath. “If they convict me, I won’t win the civil suit. I won’t be able to pay you.”
“Well, we both knew that at the beginning, didn’t we?”
She looked at him long and hard. He’d put a lot of time and effort in on her case. She wanted to believe he was doing everything possible. He met her gaze, honest regret reflected in his dark eyes. He wasn’t hiding anything. He wished things were different, but he wasn’t ashamed of the job he was doing.
She stood on shaky legs.
“Laurel, wash your hair tonight.”
His request raised her hackles, and she glared at him.
He smiled gently. “I’m not trying to insult you. Just be squeaky clean, and fluff your hair out around your face, okay? No braids tomorrow. We want a soft, vulnerable look.”
She stood looking at him, waiting for the whole surreal situation to fade into something real and good and bright. This isn’t normal. This isn’t right. It will pass.
Her throat constricted, and she needed their meeting to end.
“I put some money in your account here,” he said.
“How much?”
“Fifty. Is that enough? If you need more. . .”
“That’s plenty.”
He nodded. “All right. Tell me if you need more later. I’ll see you at the courthouse.”
“Sure. I’ll be there in my basic orange.”
She turned toward the door and heard his chair scrape on the concrete floor.
“Laurel, don’t you go to pieces on me.”
He knew her better than she’d realized. She didn’t answer but walked toward the door.
“Look, if you stay awake all night, you’ll be all haggard in the morning.”
She turned and glowered at him. “Thanks. I really needed that.”
“I’m sorry.” He raised one hand, reaching toward her across the room. “But you need the judge’s sympathy, and you need to hold it together. Don’t come to court with raccoon eyes.”
“Why don’t you just send a beautician to my cell in the morning?”
She knocked on the door, and the guard opened it. Remorse hit her halfway back to the cell block. Jim was just trying to do his job. . . and he was right. A judge wouldn’t look favorably on a bitter, defiant woman.
As the guard closed the cell door behind her five minutes later, Laurel walked unsteadily to her cot and sat down. Her cellmate, Renee, was sprawled on her cot on the other side of the small room, flipping through a tabloid. Beside her lay the packet of candy Laurel had ordered a week ago.
“That your lawyer again?” Renee’s dark eyes glinted.
“Yeah.”
“He bring you anything?”
Reluctantly, Laurel nodded.
Renee grinned. “How much?”
“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll order it.”
Renee’s eyes went steely. “I said, how much?”
“Fifty.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.” Laurel lay down against the thin pillow.
Renee unwrapped a small piece of candy and popped it into her mouth. “Maybe you should just tell that hotshot lawyer to put something in my account.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
The candy wrapper crinkled as Renee rolled it between her fingers. “I bet he would if he thought it would help you stay healthy.”
Laurel rolled over and faced the wall.
“Did he get you another bail hearing?”
“Tomorrow.” The tears were unstoppable now. Laurel burrowed her face into her pillow.
“What’s your problem?” Renee snorted. “This is maybe your last night in the clink, and you’re bawling like a baby. It’s almost like you want to stay here.”
Laurel shuddered. Oh, God, help me. Don’t leave me in here. She wiped her face with her sleeve, determined to stop the tears. Dear Lord, if you’re still there … She had nothing more to pray. She had to believe God was real, and that He was watching over her. If He was, then He knew what she needed, without her having to express it. And if somehow all her life she’d gotten it wrong, and He wasn’t there in her absolute blackest moment, then it didn’t matter that she couldn’t find the words.
Laurel took a deep breath and stared at the concrete wall. When her cellmate spoke again, and Laurel jumped. Renee was close to her, bending down to speak in a loud whisper. “If you do beat this murder rap and get out of here, don’t forget your friends.”
A piece of candy landed on the blanket near Laurel’s hand. Renee’s cot creaked, and the pages of the tabloid rustled. Laurel clenched her teeth to hold back a sob.
Chapter 1
“I’m sorry, but we can’t offer you the position. I’m sure you understand.” The interviewer eyed Laurel over the top of her glasses.
Laurel breathed deeply to control her disappointment and embarrassment. She understood, all right. The hospital couldn’t have a person like her on the front desk, meeting the public. It was the question, “Have you ever been arrested?” that did it. It was always that.
“We have a part-time evening position, however,” the hospital’s personnel director said. “If you’re interested in maintaining our website...”
Laurel hesitated. “I might be able to do that.”
The woman handed her a sheet of paper. “Why don’t you look this over. If you’re interested, call me tomorrow before five.”
Laurel glanced at the paper and folded it. “Thank you.” She headed for the door. It was better than a stark dismissal, she supposed, but not much. Twenty hours or so a week, at minimum wage.
It was nearly six o’clock, and the sun was sinking as she climbed the concrete steps to the upper level of the hospital’s parking lot. She passed a group of visitors approaching the building and averted her eyes.
She’d been in Ohio for two weeks and had been turned down for more than a dozen jobs. She supposed she ought to take this job, although she’d never used her computer skills professionally, and it wasn’t the type of job she would have chosen. Her funds were dwindling. The trip, the deposit on her modest apartment, gas, groceries. And she had to keep up her phone account—court’s orders. If she didn’t find some income soon, she wouldn’t have enough money for gas back to Maine.
She glanced ahead toward her dark green Toyota Camry and caught her breath. A ruggedly built man was opening the driver’s side door.
She wanted to call out, but fear silenced her, and she clutched the railing. They found me! Somehow, they found me, and they’re going to send me back to prison.
But that was irrational. She had permission to be here.
She hauled in a huge breath and strode toward the aging sedan.
“Hey, that’s my car!”
The man straightened and looked in her direction. Their eyes met for an instant, and she shuddered at his feral, hunted expression. That’s how I look, she thought. He slammed the door and ran before she had a chance to react further.
When he was out of sight, Laurel dashed to the car and leaned against the driver’s door, looking in. The glove compartment was open. She trembled as she reached for the door handle.
“You all right, ma’am?”
She jumped and whirled around. A tall man in uniform stood behind her. On his gray shirt pocket hung a badge with his photograph that identified him as Dan Ryan, Security.
“A man was in my car.”
The guard looked around the parking lot. “Where is he?”
“He ran that way.” She waved toward the woods that edged the parking lot.
He nodded. “Did you lock your car ma’am?”
“Yes, I’m sure I did.”
Ryan examined the edges of the window on the driver’s door. “He forced it open. Did he take anything?”
“I’m not sure.” Laurel gulped. “I don’t think there was anything valuable in there.”
Ryan peered into the passenger compartment. “Why don’t you take a quick look and see if anything’s missing.”
Laurel hastily inventoried the car’s contents and stood up beside him. “I think everything’s here.”
“Okay.” His gray eyes, almost the color of his shirt, were serious and thoughtful. “Did you get a good look at him?”
“He was thirty or so. Light hair, I think, but he was wearing a baseball cap. Dark jacket. Jeans.” She realized suddenly how tall the guard was. “He wasn’t your height. He was standing by the car, and he didn’t look that tall. Heavier, though.”
“Okay, we’ll watch for him in case he comes around here again. Well…” He looked into her eyes and smiled. So few people had smiled at her lately. It made the burglar seem less frightening somehow. “If you’re sure you’re all right...” He waited, as if he didn’t want to end the conversation, but felt it was his duty.
She nodded. “Thank you for being here.” She wanted to tell him she felt safe in his presence, that he had allayed her panic and brought her back to reality. A petty thief had targeted her vehicle, that was all. But she found herself tongue-tied as she gazed into his empathetic eyes.
He reached for the door handle. Laurel got in, and he began to shut the door, then hesitated. “I think you dropped something.”
She looked out as he stooped to retrieve the folded paper.
“Oh, thanks. That’s probably my new job description.”
“New job? Here?”
“Yes.” She took it from him. “I’m not sure I’ll take it. It’s only part time, updating the hospital’s website, but…” She felt her color rising. She was revealing too much, and that could be dangerous.
“It’s not bad working here. Could lead to something better.” He leaned on the car door, watching her. His stance was not aggressive, but said he was open for friendship. The uneasiness that was her constant companion simmered inside her. It would only complicate things if she made friends here. Friends were people she would have to confide in, and eventually leave behind. Dan Ryan seemed like a nice person. He was friendly, likable, shaving-cream-commercial handsome, and big enough to scare off burglars. He was just the type she needed to avoid.
“I’ll think about it.” She reached for the armrest, to swing the door shut.
“Take care,” he said quickly. “I hope you take the job.”
“Thanks.” She allowed herself to look up at him one more time. His eyes were serious now in the twilight, and his light brown hair looked soft and touchable. She smiled and closed the door with a pang of regret.
*****
It was dark when Laurel reached her apartment complex. She parked in front of her building and got out, looking around cautiously. Her building was one of t
en similar structures. The shrubbery and shadowy crannies between the units provided too much cover for lurkers.
She selected her key and headed up the walk. Just before she opened the door, she closed her eyes for an instant and breathed a prayer. Opening the door was always the hardest moment of her day—fearing the worst, only to be confronted by the quiet solitude of her lackluster apartment. Even after all this time, she half expected another shock to await her. Coming home and stumbling over a dead body in her living room had shattered her sense of security.
Lord, you’ve got to help me get over this. She pushed the door open and fumbled for the light switch as she entered. Everything was exactly as she had left it.
She took a deep breath. She had chosen this life. Of course, her choice had been limited. The judge had required that she stay within a thousand miles, so she’d picked an area as far as possible from Oakland, Maine, while still meeting the court’s requirements. Central Ohio. She’d waived extradition and consented to report on a regular basis to the authorities. She knew nothing about the area, except that it was well populated. But now she faced the challenges and frustrations of job hunting and meeting new people, and the mental fatigue caused by staying constantly on guard.
As she changed her clothes, her thoughts returned to the man who’d broken into her car. Was that a random crime, or was it connected to the murder? Had he followed her from Maine? The real killer still walked free, while she remained accused.
She sat down on the edge of her bed to remove her shoes. Give me rest, Lord, she breathed. The kind security guard’s face popped into her mind. She remembered Dan Ryan’s concern and deference. She wanted to see him again. Would it be foolhardy to take a job at the same place he worked? Or would she be opening herself to more rejection and heartache?
*****
After the night guard for the parking lot came on duty at ten, Dan took over the inside round, making his way through the hospital’s administrative wing at an even pace. He whistled a strain of Mozart as he methodically checked all locks. The shift passed without incident, and at 11:30 p.m., he met the other inside guard in the lobby.
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