Temporarily satisfied that Norm wasn’t some thug hired to abduct her, the woman settled back into her chair. “Can you give me any assurance that what I have to say will be held confidential?”
“Young woman,” the judge responded with a sigh that underscored his growing annoyance, “you are sorely testing my patience. I agreed to this meeting on your terms. What you have to say will determine what I’ll do from here.”
Susan couldn’t blame Sebastian for falling in love with such a rare beauty. She had bright blue eyes the color of untroubled skies, thick black hair cascading down to the middle of her back and alabaster skin that Snow White would have envied. Her shapely figure was sheathed in a soft cashmere dress that was as classy as the rest of her. Even her gestures seemed refined as she folded her hands on her lap and struck a ladylike pose. All she was missing to present the image of a perfect Southern belle was a hoop skirt and a delicate drawl. The woman seemed to Susan to be loveliness personified.
She did not, however, strike her as the type of woman who would indulge in an indiscriminate affair.
“My name is Rachael Gilberte,” she said softly. “And I can vouch for Sebastian Wescott’s being with me at the time Eric Chambers was murdered.”
Again Susan was struck by the subtlest hint of a Spanish accent lacing that soft, cultured voice.
“Are you romantically involved with Mr. Wescott?” the judge asked pointedly.
It was the question Susan had been longing to ask herself, but had been too afraid to hear the answer. Not only would it taint the woman’s testimony and render it suspect, it was also certain to wreak havoc with Susan’s own ability to remain standing. She braced herself against a nearby wall and crossed her arms over her chest, hoping to keep herself from falling apart on the spot.
Rachael’s face reflected genuine astonishment at the question.
“Is that what you think?” she asked with a shake of her head. “I assure you that I didn’t come here today out of any romantic notion, but rather out of a sense of loyalty and appreciation to the bravest, most selfless man I know.”
Her ensuing tale was as fantastic as any Susan had ever heard.
And far more compelling.
Rachael Gilberte claimed that she had been both young and naive when she married an older man of considerable means, believing him to be a respectable businessman. It had taken her some time to realize that the bulk of his wealth could be attributed to his participation in an international drug cartel, which he refused to acknowledge in her company. Although marriage quickly revealed Tomás to be both a controlling and ruthless man, she had not thought him capable of cold-blooded murder. Had she not witnessed her husband gun down a rival in their holiday villa, Rachael would never have believed it herself. Luckily her presence had gone undetected.
Paralyzed with fear, she waited several days before approaching him to ask for a divorce, citing irreconcilable differences that included at least one mistress that she knew of. Tomás had laughed at the boldness of her request and then beat her severely. The next morning she found a single suitcase packed and sitting on the marble front steps. A muscle-bound “chauffeur” delivered her to the airport with a one-way ticket and orders never to return. It was an edict she would have been grateful to obey had it not been for one very significant deterrent.
Her son.
David was but four years old when his mother had been exiled from his life. Iron gates and armed gunmen held him captive on his father’s estate, from which no amount of legal maneuvering could free him. The Mexican government appeared indifferent to the pleas of an American woman they claimed had willfully abandoned her husband and child. Aside from the fact that Tomás was so masterful at greasing the right palms, officials argued they had too much to do to in upholding the civil liberties of their own citizens, let alone some affluent divorcée living in comfort across the border.
Encumbered by international laws, the American judicial system was unable to do what Sebastian Wescott had. Rachael was at the point of abandoning all hope when he had arrived on her doorstep like a guardian angel sent from on high. How he knew of her desperate situation was of little concern to her, although she suspected a mutual friend and member, like Sebastian, of the Texas Cattleman’s Club of intervening on her behalf. In any case, rather than questioning Sebastian’s motives, she embraced the hope he offered her.
“He sneaked past the guards and into Tomás’s very home to rescue my son at great personal risk and return him to me.”
“Do you expect us to believe such a farfetched story?” Norman blurted at the conclusion of her remarks.
Norman’s bluster didn’t fool Susan any. She knew a jury was certain to be moved by such an incredible tale of woe and felt sympathy for the woman who told it. God knew, she was. As much as Norm would hate putting such a compelling and beautiful witness on the stand, Susan suspected he wouldn’t willingly forgo the chance of a lifetime, either. Not unless Rachael could come up with an ironclad alibi for Sebastian.
“Indeed I do,” Rachael Gilberte said calmly. “I brought along an eyewitness to back me up.”
Thirteen
Feeling as if she expected an armed guerrilla to charge out and take them all hostage, Susan jumped back in alarm when the closet door swung open. A little boy no bigger than the set of golf clubs that the judge kept beneath his coat in that very closet stepped into the room, blinking his eyes at the bright light. It was not at all what Susan had anticipated.
She was embarrassed by the sigh of relief that escaped her lips. One glance at this beautiful dark-haired boy indicated that Sebastian was not his biological father. The possibility that he and Rachael had created a child together was something that Susan had, in fact, considered over the past few tortured days. With eyes as black as ripe olives, the boy’s features were identical to the man in the picture that Rachael had presented to the group. He smiled hesitantly, his teeth flashing white.
“Judge Walters, this is my son, David.”
“I’m seven,” he said proudly, while the adults in the room silently calculated the three long years he had been separated from his mother.
Without prompting, he offered the judge a manly handshake that tugged at the heart of every adult in the room. The pride in Rachael’s voice was mirrored in her eyes as the sacred bond between a mother and child was immortalized in the moment. Watching Rachael lovingly push a lock of black hair away from his forehead, Susan felt her eyes sting. Once upon a time, lying in Sebastian’s arms, she had foolishly allowed her imagination to conjure up a child conceived of their mutual love.
The prosecutor’s brusque question intruded on Susan’s memories. “What did Sebastian Wescott expect from you in return for his alleged heroics?” he demanded to know.
The question evoked a strong response from Rachael. Her disgust at Norman’s implication was evident in her lovely features.
“Who questions the altruism of an angel when you are standing inside the gates of hell? Although I offered to pay him everything I own, which is little enough, he refused to take so much as a dime from me. Not for the rescue attempt itself. Nor for his part in establishing a new identity and home for my son and me.”
This bit of information had the impact of a baseball bat directed squarely at Susan’s forehead. Everything became clear to her. No wonder Sebastian felt honor bound to take his alibi to the grave with him! When he had said that two innocent lives were at stake, he wasn’t exaggerating.
“It is for this reason that I ask you to please keep my identity a secret,” Rachael implored.
Making eye contact with each and every person in the room, she proceeded to cover her son’s ears and speak so softly that he could not overhear.
“I assure you Tomás would stop at nothing to get David back, and that includes killing me and anyone else who dares to get in his way.”
Judge Walters rubbed his white goatee in contemplation as he assessed this woman’s request.
“If the three of
you wouldn’t mind stepping out into the hallway for a moment, I want to speak to David alone,” he said.
An expert at sniffing out the truth, he felt certain that he would be able to ascertain whether the child had been coached. Making note of the mother’s worried expression, he hastened to assure her, “I don’t intend to traumatize the boy, just to verify the details of such an amazing story without your presence in the room. I want to give David the opportunity to speak freely.”
If Rachael feared a trap, she did her best to hide it as she bent down and deposited a kiss on her son’s cheek. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, honey,” she promised. “I’ll be right outside that door. You can call out if you need me. Just tell the judge the truth, and then we can go on home.”
Home.
The word was a fragrant blossom lingering in the air. Susan couldn’t imagine what it would be like to try raising a child on the run without a place to call home. To live in fear of someone kidnapping your son. Having to abandon your own identity in hopes of creating a normal life for a child who has seen too much in so few years…
Tomás would haunt both mother and child forever. That Sebastian had remained silent to protect their identity and keep their whereabouts a secret from such a monster only made him all the more honorable to Susan. She berated herself for making the unforgivable mistake of failing to take him at his word.
She would just as soon go to jail herself as endanger this fragile family by incurring the kind of publicity guaranteed to surround their testimony if this case were to actually go to court. Indeed, Rachael’s impending demise would make for a stunning TV movie-of-the-week. The international outrage alone was enough to make a pack of hungry journalists smack their lips over a possible Pulitzer for the story. Each minute that ticked by as they waited in the hallway for the judge’s decision seemed a year long.
Feeling a gentle hand on her shoulder, Susan was surprised to see Rachael offering her comfort rather than the other way around. The woman’s words were balm to Susan’s spirit.
“I appreciate what you have done for me, Ms. Wysocki. You promised to do your best to keep my secret, and I believe you have. In any case, I owe Sebastian so very much. There is no sacrifice I could make that could ever compare to what he risked on my account. If the judge dismisses my testimony as farfetched, I don’t want you to blame yourself. Come what may, I would never stand by and allow such a man to be convicted on my account.”
Susan was spared trying to respond through a blur of tears by David’s abrupt appearance. It was the second time in less than an hour that the simple act of his opening a door made her body flood with adrenaline. He was holding a lollipop in one hand and grinning.
“The judge wants to see both of us together, Mami.”
Rachael removed her hand from Susan’s shoulder to square her own. As she was straightening her dark skirt, her son slipped a sticky hand into Susan’s.
“You’re pretty,” he told her.
Falling into those beautiful dark eyes of his, Susan wondered how his mother had ever found the courage to come forward. Like Sebastian, she had her doubts about asking a woman to jeopardize the safety of her offspring. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be tossed on the horns of such a dilemma.
Before stepping back into the judge’s quarters, David asked an unexpected favor of her. “Would you give this to Mr. Sebastian for me?”
The paper that he handed her had been folded many times and showed the wear of overhandling. It was just the right size to slip into the pocket of her suit jacket.
“I’d be honored,” Susan told him solemnly.
She had to fight the urge to pull this cherub to her breast and hold him tight. His innocence stirred in her an instinct of motherly protection.
As the door clicked shut behind Rachael and David, she heard the prosecutor swear under his breath. Although she couldn’t be sure the judge would move for dismissal, her gut told her that anyone would have to be made out of marble not to be moved by this boy’s plight. Right, wrong or otherwise, she could not refrain from taking a peek at the communiqué David had given her. She was very careful about unfolding it. Having every intention of delivering this message herself, she didn’t want so much as a single wrinkle to give away the fact that she had viewed this prior to giving it to Sebastian. She couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t a letter from Rachael herself and whether she had misrepresented any romantic connection between them.
Opening the yellow sheet of drawing paper as if it was an ancient manuscript of great historic value, Susan gasped at what she saw. Depicted in a childish drawing was Sebastian wearing a pair of angel wings and holding a youngster in his arms. They were flying through a barrage of bullets coming from machine guns pointed at them from the bottom of the page. Off to the side was a dark-haired, blue-eyed mother holding her arms open to her child. At the top of the sheet of paper was a simple inscription written in a crude, childish script: “Thank you for saving my life.”
Tears filled Susan’s eyes. A sob rose to her lips. Never one to cry in public, she knew nothing could stop those tears from falling freely down her face. They spattered all over the drawing, ruining any chance she might have had to plead innocent to a charge of tampering with Sebastian’s mail. That was of little consequence at the moment. Right now she was too busy rebuking herself for doubting him. That she had actually thought him capable of carrying on with another woman when avowing his love for her made Susan feel very small and dirty-minded.
More ashamed than relieved, she wouldn’t blame him for turning his back on her altogether.
“I’ll be go to hell,” she heard Norman mutter over her shoulder. “It’s true, then.”
Perhaps Susan should have taken more care to keep the prosecutor from taking a peek at David’s drawing, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Everybody knew that Sebastian Wescott had been implicated in a murder. Very few would ever know what a hero he really was. That such a man had suffered the indignity of being fingerprinted and smeared in the press based on circumstantial evidence that had obviously been planted with the intention of framing him was unthinkable. That the real murderer was still at large was a worrying thought.
With his plan to put Sebastian behind bars thwarted, who knew what the killer would do next?
Susan managed a shaky smile as she turned to her colleague.
“Look on the bright side, Norm,” she told him in an encouraging voice. “You still have a murder case to prosecute. All you’ve got to do now is find the right suspect.”
Ambition notwithstanding, Norman McCallaster was a fair man. He no more wanted to put Rachael and her son in danger than he wanted to put an innocent man in prison. Though aspiring, he was neither malicious nor unethical. He told both the judge and Susan as much when they were called back into chambers. The judge, the prosecutor and Susan all vowed in one another’s presence that what occurred in this closed chamber would forever remain secreted in their respective hearts.
When Susan reentered the courtroom with the prosecutor and proceeded to follow him to his designated table across the room, Sebastian felt his heart drop out beneath him. Standing there side by side, it appeared they had joined forces. That she still refused to look at him didn’t bode well for his cause. As much as it tore him apart, he couldn’t think badly of her for teaming up with the highly regarded Mr. McCallaster. By refusing to confide to her his alibi, he hadn’t left her much choice in the matter. She could either watch her own business go under with his own while waiting for him to be released from prison or go on with her life without him.
The judge entered the room and took his seat. He looked at his watch as if surprised by how much time had elapsed. Unlike Susan, he had no problem fixing his gaze upon the defendant. Red, watery eyes bore into Sebastian and held him to his seat as effectively as any pair of handcuffs. He cleared his throat before speaking in a voice that, despite its age, resonated with absolute authority throughout the courtroom.
With that, the black-robed old gentleman rose from his seat and left the courtroom. Not that Sebastian expected an apology from the court or from the prosecutor. Had there been any spectators present, Sebastian imagined they would have raised the rafters with their exclamations of surprise at this unexpected bolt from the bench. He was glad that no reporters were at hand to capture the astonishment on his own face. Relief sagged his shoulders as he threw his head back and exhaled deeply.
He could not believe it was over. It was anticlimactic, to say the least, but he was not about to complain. His life was his own again. Sebastian knew only one person with the fortitude, the brains and the moxie to manage such an incredible turn of events. He only hoped Susan hadn’t endangered anyone in the process.
He watched her shake hands with Norman McCallaster and smile into the perplexed face of the assistant prosecutor. If the poor man was expecting some kind of explanation, neither Susan nor his boss appeared willing to give him one. He was still sputtering in disbelief when Norman escorted him out of the room and Sebastian found himself alone with Susan.
The distance separating them was as wide as the ocean. And as inconsequential as the thin air holding them apart. Susan smiled. Neither spoke. Rather, they cherished the moment for what it was: the possibility of a new beginning.
Sebastian was the first to pierce the silence.
“How did you manage it?” he asked.
Susan came away from the sidebar to stand before him. It was all she could do to keep from throwing herself into his arms and begging for his forgiveness. Handing David’s drawing over to him, she confronted him with the evidence of his incredible act of courage. He stood there a long time looking at the crude rendering. When he spoke again, his voice was clogged with emotion.
Tall, Dark...And Framed? Page 13