“Oh, God.” Linda uttered a cry under her breath and turned into her husband.
“I am, however, in a quandary regarding where Ms. Sheraton will live for the duration of these proceedings.”
“I don’t understand. She’ll come home with me,” Linda said. “Didn’t she say she wanted to come home with me? Hannah?”
“After today the court will decide where Hannah lives. It is clear to me that the emotional wounds in this matter run deep and cut two ways. The court is sympathetic to both parties, but” he held up one hand, a finger toward heaven, “I will not have this defendant intimidated or subjected to undue influence during the course of this trial. Because of what happened here today, I am reluctant to release Ms. Sheraton to the custody of her mother while she resides with Mr. Rayburn.”
The judge looked over Linda’s shoulder to her husband.
“I understand how difficult this must be for you, Mr. Rayburn. I know that the choice to testify for the prosecution must have been a very difficult one. However, that choice will not soon be forgotten in the same way that your suspicions will not be put to rest easily. There will be no magic once you walk out of this courtroom that will allow you and Ms. Sheraton to reside civilly under the same roof for the duration.”
“Judge,” Josie stepped forward, “the ramifications would be even worse if Hannah was remanded to county care. I know the court wouldn’t want to see any more harm come to her.”
Norris smiled sadly, “No, this court does not. But harm comes in many guises. While I don’t want her in physical distress, I also don’t want to see any deterioration of her mental state. If the hostility exhibited today continues because she is confined to her home I’m afraid that’s what I see in her future.”
“But. . .” Josie began to argue. It was Kip who ended the discussion.
“I won’t be going back to the Malibu house,” he said. Linda gasped and turned toward her husband, forgetting Hannah.
“Kip, there’s no reason to do this. I’m sure we can work this out,” Linda insisted but Kip ignored her.
“I won’t be going back, Judge.” Kip’s voice was flat, his expression determined. He seemed unmoved by Linda’s touch, her panic, and her need.
“Ever? Kip, you don’t mean you’re never coming home, do you?” Linda whispered softly.
“Mrs. Rayburn?”
Judge Norris called. Linda blinked. She hesitated, reluctant to take her eyes off Kip. Her skin was pale. Her hands were trembling as they grasped her purse. She looked stunned.
“Mrs. Rayburn, I will need your assurance that your priority will be your daughter. From now until the end of this trial you will be responsible for your daughter’s whereabouts twenty-four hours a day. Is that clear? Mr. Rayburn will not be in the Malibu residence. If you see him, you will take steps to insure that your daughter is monitored and safe.”
Linda looked from Kip to the judge and back again. Linda was being called upon to divide the baby and Josie held her breath, wondering which she would choose. Finally, her voice low, her eyes unable to meet Norris’s, Linda nodded.
“Yes. I understand.”
“Fine. Mr. Rayburn will advise this court of his residence.”
“The house in the Palisades.” Kip’s gaze leveled first at Hannah, and then at Josie.
“My clerk will need the full address and phone number,” the judge instructed. “Mrs. Rayburn and Ms. Sheraton will continue to reside in Malibu. If there is a problem with this, other living arrangements will be made for the defendant. I would prefer that doesn’t happen. In fact, I hope I have made clear how very much I don’t want that to happen.”
“Can I take Hannah home now?” Linda asked.
“Yes. I won’t change the provisions of bail as long as Ms. Sheraton abides by them. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Hannah whispered, her eyes darting to her mother, her right hand moving against her thigh in measured beats.
“Good. Then I suggest you all go home. Mrs. Rayburn is to leave every possible channel of communication open for Ms. Bates and her client. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” Linda murmured.
Josie stepped forward to offer her support but Linda was quick. She wanted nothing to do with Josie. Linda bundled Hannah up and pulled her away from Josie, the court, the judge, and Rudy Klein. Josie followed, catching up with Linda at the door.
“Hannah. Linda. Wait,” Josie called.
Linda’s head whipped around. She pulled Hannah closer.
“Haven’t you done enough today?” Linda sneered.
“Mom, please,” Hannah begged. “I did it. I told her.”
“Shut up, Hannah. Don’t make it worse.” Linda’s eyes blazed as she stepped forward so the judge wouldn’t hear them. “Just stay away from us. You’ve ruined everything. You’ve ruined my marriage. You’ve made my daughter crazy.”
“Mom,” Hannah cried. “Please, it isn’t her fault. I only told her about what Fritz did to. . .”
“Shut up, Hannah. Don’t say anything else.” Linda tightened her hold, claiming Hannah.
“You can’t keep her away from me, Linda,” Josie warned quietly.
“I’ll do what the judge says, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy everything either. I earned this family. It is mine and I’ll figure out a way to keep it together.” Linda hitched her purse and tightened her grip on Hannah. “Now, I think my daughter has had enough for one day. I know I certainly have.”
“Hannah, are you all right?” Josie asked, bypassing Linda.
Hannah nodded.
“Okay. I’ll call later.”
“You will not,” Linda snapped before remembering the judge’s order. “At least give us a little time.”
Josie stepped away, hands up as she backed off.
“Okay. Okay. Just listen. The press is set up at the main entrance. It’s a zoo out there. Take Hannah down the freight elevator to the left.”
Josie held Linda’s gaze. Hatred in Linda’s eyes; resolve in Josie’s. Without another word Linda put her hand on the side of her daughter’s head, steered it onto her shoulder, and hustled her out the door.
Josie turned back to retrieve her jacket and briefcase. Kip Rayburn was deep in conversation with Rudy. Judge Norris had returned to chambers and Josie had eleven days to find out exactly what kind of man Fritz Rayburn was, and who else might have wanted him dead.
Linda started drinking at six. She smoked half a pack of cigarettes while she listened to Hannah tear up her room. Hannah’s rampage lasted forty-five minutes. The silence stretched into two hours as Linda waited for Kip to walk through the door. She was positive he would defy the court order and come to her.
At nine Linda figured she was on her own. Putting aside her drink and her cigarettes, Linda walked to the back of the house. Hannah was sitting on her stool, rocking and counting. The bedding was in a pile, the pillows tossed toward the bathroom. Hannah’s clothes were ripped from their hangers, grabbed from the drawers and dumped on the floor. A razor blade was in a small dish at Hannah’s feet. It hadn’t been used, thank God. Linda closed her eyes, breathed in through her nose and said:
“You don’t have to worry. Kip isn't coming home.” Hannah kept rocking. Linda tried again. “He’ll come around. When this is all over, we’ll still be here.” Linda eased into the room. She stopped with her back against the wall when she was within Hannah’s range of vision. “Did Fritz do what Josie says he did?”
“Yes,” Hannah whispered.
“Why didn’t you tell me, baby?”
Linda choked on the words. She sniffled and put her hands to her lips. Just the thought of what Hannah had been through brought back bad memories of Hannah’s father. His dark eyes and thick lashes, the way his hands felt on her, the way he made love - the way he hit her, twisted arms, broke bones. He had been gorgeous to look at and deadly to live with. Linda hadn’t told anyone about the abuse because there was no one to tell in a country where beating yo
ur woman was a sign of manliness. Eventually Linda walked away because she could. It was different with Hannah. She was a kid. She had tried to run and Fritz had always brought her back. Still, Hannah could have said something. If she had, everything would have been different. Everything.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Linda asked again. She swayed against the wall and put out her hands to steady herself. She had drunk too much, thought too much, and lay awake too many hours over the last weeks trying to figure out what to do. “Why didn’t you tell me, Hannah?”
“Because you didn’t want me to.”
Slowly Hannah turned to look at Linda. Her hair fell across one side of her face, her green eyes sparkled. The energy it took to destroy her room, the futility of all this, had left her exhausted.
“That’s not true, Hannah. If I had known it would have changed everything. It . . .”
Linda was on the floor, her arms around Hannah before she knew what had happened. Her hands were in Hannah’s hair, holding her face, her tears falling on Hannah’s shoulders.
“You’re drunk, mom. You’re drunk.” Hannah pushed Linda away but her mother held on tight.
“No. I just feel so sad. If I had known what he was doing I could have bested the old bastard. Everything would have been so simple. So different.” Linda sobbed and clutched at her daughter but Hannah pushed her hard. Linda fell back, splayed on the floor. “You must have been so scared. If you told me I could have stopped him from hurting either one of us. It would have been so simple.”
Hannah sat on her stool and listened to her mother’s protestations. There had been no comfort in Linda’s embrace. The sound of her mother’s voice didn’t soothe her. The promise that it would have been different didn’t mean shit because Fritz was dead. It was done. All of it.
Kip Rayburn let himself into the Palisades house and did everything he always did when he got home. He walked up stairs to his bedroom and put his wallet and his key on the bureau in the dressing room. He flipped on the bathroom light and the lamp at the bedside. He sat on the bed and took his watch off.
The place was as it always was: spotlessly clean, perfectly appointed. He should have come home weeks ago when the police released the property. He wandered through the house, touching the elegant, traditional furniture, looking at the classic artwork. Fritz had done well with this house. Anyone would have believed he had come from money, grown up with the finest things. He was a master of disguise, that old man.
Kip went down to the kitchen but he wasn’t hungry. He poured himself a drink but didn’t taste it. Finally, he did what he knew he was going to do all along: he opened the front door and walked the grounds.
Kip passed the fountain where the fireman had found Hannah. The little stone peeing boy atop it was dry for the time being; the water cut off while the wreckage was cleared. Part of the staircase still stood. One of Hannah’s paintings had only been partially destroyed. A workman had propped it near the fountain as if he had found something precious. Kip kicked at it as he walked, resisting the temptation to stomp it into the ground. This wasn’t the time to lose control. He’d never done it as a kid - he’d only done it once as an adult - and look what happened.
His shoes scraped on the bare foundation. Funny how the smell of fire lingered, clung to nothing but concrete, how it felt hotter the minute he stepped onto the slab, how the tinkle of the ice in his drink seemed to echo off the nonexistent walls.
Sinking onto the bottom step of the staircase Kip Rayburn looked up into the night sky, then out toward the gardens. He looked at the hills and canyons of the Palisades and then he started to laugh. Anyone listening might have mistaken it for crying. It struck him funny that he was sitting in the ruins of his home, facing the ruin of his life, the loss of his father and the estrangement of his wife. In the final analysis, Fritz Rayburn was the only thing that had ever, really, truly belonged to Kip Rayburn and Hannah Sheraton had taken that away.
Wouldn’t Fritz get a kick out of this mess?
Wouldn’t he love to see how miserable everyone was?
Kip Rayburn thought about all this as he put his head against the wall and laughed and laughed until he cried.
Rudy Klein got home just before the late news began. He stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. Dinner was a box of crackers and a hunk of cheese, a glass of milk, and a Ding-Dong. A Rudy dinner; a Mikey dessert. Rudy picked up the Ding-Dong and started taking off the silver wrapper just as a commercial came on.
Keeping an eye on the television he dialed his ex-wife.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s late. I’m sorry. I just wanted to ask a favor. Go in and kiss Mikey once more for me.”
“He’s asleep, Rudy,” Pam grumbled. “And I was almost asleep.”
“I know. But what’s it going to hurt? Come on.”
Suddenly, thoughts of Mikey and his ex-wife flew out of his head. Rudy Klein hung up the phone while Pam was still complaining. The news had started and the headline was the Rayburn trial.
Josie and Archer sat near the window at Burt’s at the Beach so they could keep an eye on Max who was fast asleep on the still warm sidewalk. The burger platters were on order, a pitcher of beer sweated between them, and Archer’s contact sheets were spread over the table. Before he could hand Josie the loop, before Josie could tell him what had happened in court, Burt called:
“Hey, Josie. They’re talking about you on TV.”
Everyone in the place fell silent. All eyes turned upward as Burt adjusted the sound on the set.
“Oh, my God,” Josie breathed.
Archer tipped back in his chair and whistled softly. Josie looked back at him. He raised an eyebrow.
“Had a tough day, did you, Jo?”
Alex Schaeffer and Cheryl Winston were dressed to the nines. Governor Davidson hadn’t bothered with black-tie, but then he seldom did. In another part of the Bel Air Mansion, two hundred people dined on game hens, heart of palm salad, lobster bisque, and crème fraiche atop apple tartlets. They would raise an easy half a million for the governor’s coffers this evening, as long as no one saw what the three of them were seeing now.
Lead story on the news was Linda Rayburn and her daughter surrounded by a crowd of reporters jostling for position. CBS had done a fabulous job. Their cameraman got a clear shot of Linda’s beautiful, angry face, and their reporter managed to stick a microphone right under her nose to catch every vitriolic word.
“What about my rights as a parent? That’s what I want to know. The judge says that Josie Bates has rights, and my daughter has rights, but I have none. I’m disgusted. My daughter needs help. She doesn’t need to be pulled in six different directions by the court. Where are the people in this world who believe that a parent has the best interest of their child at heart? Where are the people who will stand up for the family? I can’t believe any of this is happening. Josie Baylor-Bates should be shot for what she’s done today.”
Alex turned off the television. The skirt on Cheryl’s dress rustled as she turned toward the governor. The governor stared at the blank screen for a minute then stood up, buttoned his coat and said:
“Find out what happened in court, and why the wife of our Supreme Court nominee is acting out in front of everyone in the whole damned state.”
24
“Who does this lawyer think she is? God?”
“Those parents are financially and morally responsible for their daughter. If that lawyer wants to be responsible for a child, then let her have one of her own and take all the responsibility.”
“This is like a really late term abortion. That girl is being ripped from her mother and somebody should do something about it.”
“Maybe something weird is going on here. Maybe something did happen to that girl. Shouldn’t someone find out about that?” – Callers to KFI Talk Radio
“Come on in.” Faye opened the door of her home wide and gave Max a pat as she motioned Josie toward the sunroom.
“Thanks. Sorry I didn’t get
the message until now. I was at Archer’s last night.” Josie said. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
Josie veered off to the kitchen, settled Max, and poured herself some coffee. In the sunroom she sank onto a chair, tucked her legs beneath her, and wrapped her hands around her mug. Faye was already settled. A teacup was on the table at her elbow. The weather had cooled and she wore a sweater to keep out the cold but the look of consternation on her face sent that chill right to Josie.
The Los Angeles Times was on the table with the tea. The front page carried a picture of Linda Rayburn holding onto Hannah for dear life. Faye had the Valley paper and the Daily Breeze. Each one was opened to that picture of Linda and Hannah outside the courthouse.
“The Times has an old picture of you on the inside page.” Faye tossed it toward Josie. “You looked good with long hair.”
Josie shifted. One foot hit the ground just as the LA Times fluttered to the floor. She reached down, picked it up, and snapped it open. Josie bit her bottom lip as she scanned the story, then looked with disgust at the picture on the front page.
“Linda deliberately put herself in this situation,” Josie muttered. Then to Faye: “I told her to go down the freight elevator. I don’t think she cares about Hannah at all.”
“Did you threaten to file for emancipation?” Faye asked, not bothering to respond to Josie’s observation.
“Yes, I did,” Josie answered. “They were trying to railroad Hannah. They were dismissing her accusations. Linda was ready to give her up. Everyone in that courtroom had an agenda that didn’t include what was in Hannah’s best interests.”
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