Hostile Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  Linda checked out her nails. She looked around and found little to interest her.

  “Hannah looked in my room. I knew she did it every night. I followed her when she left.”

  “Did you stay dressed every night just so you could follow her?”

  “No. Just that night. I did it that night,” Linda said, wary now but still in control. “She was having problems with Fritz, Josie. She wasn’t in her right mind. A good mother looks out for her child. I wanted to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble.”

  “If you were following her, Linda, why didn’t you stop her before she set the fire?” Josie moved slowly as if her position was uncomfortable and she wanted to settle in while they talked. She put her hands on the ground, a runner’s stance. She tried to get up but Linda raised her foot, put it against Josie’s shoulder and eased her down.

  “I like it this way. Why don’t you just stay there,” Linda suggested.

  Josie sat down again. This time her legs were to her side, her hands on the floor next to her. Her eyes were sharp, trained on Linda’s face but also her hands. Above all, Josie wanted to keep Linda’s hands in sight. She knew how quick Linda could be.

  “What was the question, Josie? I forgot. It’s so different when you’re sitting in front of everyone in a courtroom. Then you remember every question. You have to really be sharp in a courtroom. It’s different here. All cozy. I just forgot what you asked.”

  “I want to know why you didn’t stop Hannah if you saw what she was doing. There were two flash points. You could have seen the first one in Fritz’s room through the window. Hannah would have had to take time to spill the turpentine, to light the match on the second. You’re strong. Even if you weren’t, you could have stopped her just by calling her name. Hannah would do anything for you. But I guess you know that.”

  “No,” she sighed, “I don’t think I could have stopped her. I was too far behind. I wasn’t sure which route she took. It was a huge home. A perfect home, Josie. It was a perfect life.”

  “Hannah took the same route every night, Linda. Mrs. Peterson testified to that.”

  “Maybe she didn’t that night. Things can always change,” Linda said. “But, with all these questions, it seems you think something else happened.”

  “Maybe you were there before Hannah. Maybe Kip wasn’t the only one missing when Hannah looked into your room. I mean, if you lied about Hannah setting the fire maybe you lied about you being in bed. In fact, I never asked you if you were there, did I?”

  “Ooh.” Linda pursed her lips. “That’s a good one, Josie.”

  “Maybe you weren’t so sure about Kip’s undying devotion after all. Could that be it?” Josie baited her.

  “That’s a lot of maybes, Josie.”

  “That’s my job, but sometimes I’m not so quick. But look. . .”

  Josie reached for the box next to her. Linda’s foot shot out. She stepped hard on Josie’s hand. Josie crumbled and gasped, gritting her teeth against the pain as Linda brought the full force of her weight down on her.

  “There’s nothing in there but pictures, Linda. I promise.” Linda eased up. Josie slid her hand from underneath Linda’s foot. “Look, I just want to show you Hannah’s sketchbook.”

  Linda stayed close enough to control Josie if she had to. Cautiously, Josie reached inside the box. Carefully she opened the book.

  “I thought this was a picture of you leaving Hannah behind. But this is Hannah watching you run from the fire you set. She was confused and scared, and her beautiful paintings were in that downstairs room.” Josie raised her eyes. “Hannah didn’t lie. She did try to put out the fire, and she didn’t even know Fritz was lying upstairs. She didn’t know because she lied about that, too, didn’t she?”

  “Fritz was abusing her. She didn’t lie about that,” Linda said lazily. “I can’t believe that bastard did that to Hannah.”

  “No, I mean the other thing. Hannah had been in his bedroom. She didn’t hit Fritz, you did. That first night I saw you there was a scrape healing on your knuckles. It could have been a week old. Your DNA and Hannah’s would be virtually identical.”

  Josie pushed the sketchbook toward Linda. She pushed it as far as she could so that she had to lean forward and balance on her knees. Josie raised her eyes, still talking, tensing her muscles and gauging Linda’s balance.

  “Hannah was willing to take the rap for you, wasn’t she, Linda?”

  Linda walked to the far corner of the room, moving as if choreographing a war dance. Six steps and then a turn. Her head was in profile and her neck was taut. She was out of range. Josie relaxed and watched for the next opportunity.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Everybody was supposed to bend over backwards to make this go away because Hannah was a minor, because she was Fritz Rayburn’s granddaughter. It was a great plan considering how fast I had to come up with it when they figured out the fire wasn’t an accident.” Linda threw her head back and raised her eyes heavenward as if to ask for answers not forgiveness. “Who would have thought they could make a case out of all those little, idiotic things: matches and hair in his bedroom and everything? I almost died when you asked Klein to name eyewitnesses during the bail hearing. Remember that? I figured I was dead right there.”

  Linda turned again. She was staring at Josie with such intense hatred Josie felt it searing into her.

  “And then you made it all so much worse. A plea, Josie. That was all I wanted. Just plead her out, send her to a hospital. She was sick, anyway. A couple of years wouldn’t have made a difference. But no, you had to go for it. You had to win. Do you know how hard it was to face my kid everyday knowing that all the promises I’d made her were shit?”

  Linda sniffed and turned up her nose.

  “And she just stood there and took it. Hannah reeked with that damned sanctimonious silence, her unadulterated love, that whole mother/daughter thing. You don’t think there was a shit load of guilt there for me?” Linda touched the table, the wall.

  “Then there was you and Hannah. She trusted you, not me. That really hurt, Josie. It truly pissed me off. More than that, it worried me. I thought she’d tell you the truth. I knew you’d come after me if she did that.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me the truth? I could have helped you.”

  Linda took a deep breath and let it out. She splayed her legs. Josie’s eyes went to the shoes. Linda didn’t notice.

  “That is a stupid question. Fritz wanted me gone. Hannah thought it was her fault that Fritz was making Kip divorce me, and all the time it was just another little fun activity for Fritz to enjoy. Kip had no patience with Hannah. He resented her. Do you think if I was indicted Kip would hang around? I explained all this to Hannah. She understood.”

  “Oh my God. You blamed her for ruining your perfect gig?” Josie managed to sit back on her heels again, ready once more to sprint if she had to.

  “No, dammit!” Linda struck the wall with her fist. “I was telling her the facts of life. The fact is there wouldn’t have been any problems in my life if I didn’t have her. It took me years to find someone suitable, someone who loved me enough to take me with that kid in tow. I did what I had to do to protect us. I got rid of that damn freak of an old man. I saved myself. I saved Kip. I saved her. I saved all of us. When she was arrested, it was her turn to do what she had to. That’s just the way things shook out.”

  Linda twirled toward Josie. She fell to the ground, right onto her knees so that they were close enough to feel one another’s breath.

  “Hannah was screwed without me and she knew it. If Kip divorced me we’d be back on the street, me sleeping with anything that had enough money to feed us. If Kip stayed with me, and Fritz cut him off, we’d still be back to square one. No money. No prestige. Nothing.”

  “Linda, listen to what you’re saying,” Josie said quietly. “Kip is a lawyer. You wouldn’t have been destitute. It never would have come to that.”

  Linda’s eyes bla
zed as her face came closer still. She tipped her head as if she might kiss Josie. Instead she pointed out Josie’s stupidity slowly, almost sensually.

  “And we wouldn’t have been rich.” She pulled away. “Kip wouldn’t have lasted a minute in a two-bedroom track house with me and Hannah while he got himself situated.”

  Josie shook her head, trying to understand what Linda was telling her.

  “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, and 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.