But Wyatt didn’t notice or even remember that I was there as he got on his cell.
“This is the best one yet,” he said.
I suspected that he was talking to Newt. “And you thought you were going to find something on the husband!” He laughed again. “And these people wanted to come after me?”
I stood and moved like a zombie from the media room around the corner to the staircase then up the steps. I waited until I was in my bedroom, waited until I sat on the edge of my bed, before I cried.
If this was how I was feeling, I couldn’t imagine what Janice Johnson was going through.
From what I’d learned over the past few days, there was always some semblance of truth to these stories, but not enough to go after a family who’d already lost their son.
But no one working for Wyatt cared about that. It was all about winning at any cost.
“Meredith, what’s wrong?”
Tears still rolled down my face when I looked up. I’d forgotten that my mother was here, helping out with Billy today.
She frowned as she walked over to me, dressed in jeans and a top, and not some bikini, for once. She sat next to me and in a mother’s voice asked, “What is going on with you?”
Then she put her arm around me; I laid my head down and sobbed into her shoulder.
“What is it?”
I waited until I could form a few words. “This is all too much.”
“What?”
“Everything. Especially what we’re doing to the Johnsons.”
My mother stood and frowned. “This is about them?” She shook her head. “Have you forgotten that they’re trying to put your husband in prison?” she said, as if the Johnson family didn’t have a reason for wanting that.
“Wyatt killed their son.”
“He had to.”
“No.” I shook my head. “He didn’t!”
My mother’s eyes were wide as she stood there for a moment, then she rushed to close the door. She was silent when she came back and just stood over me as if she were trying to intimidate me with her presence.
“Listen to me,” she hissed, as if I were the one who’d done something wrong. “You better get yourself together. I told you, never say that to me or anyone ever again.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that I could blink myself to some other place, some other time. Maybe even blink myself back to May 12 so that I could have stopped Wyatt.
My mother said, “Are you willing to give up your life for people you don’t even know?”
She waited for me to answer; I didn’t.
“If you don’t care about anyone else, think about your son, Meredith. Think about Billy and figure out a way to stand by Wyatt’s side without all of these”—she waved her hand in the air as if she were trying to figure out a word—“emotions.”
“You just don’t know what I know.”
“And I don’t want to know. But I know other things,” she said. “I know that Wyatt Spencer gave you more than a chance, he gave you love. He gave you more than a home, he gave you a life. Think about where you would be without him.”
“And you,” I couldn’t resist saying because I was sure a major part of her concern was what would happen to her life if Wyatt were tried and found guilty.
“Yes, and I don’t mind admitting it. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Just because I was smart enough to recognize a great opportunity for you and for me.”
When I shook my head slightly, she sat back down.
“I just don’t know why you can’t see this,” she said, her voice lower now. “Why can’t you see what you have here, what you’re risking by not standing by Wyatt.”
“I didn’t say—”
“You don’t have to say anything, it’s how you’re acting. And if this goes to court . . . you’re not ready. You can’t be standing next to Wyatt weeping for the other side.”
The door busted open and my mother and I looked up. “There you are,” my husband said. “You okay?”
My mother stood and greeted Wyatt at the door.
“She’s okay,” she said. “Just a little emotional now. You know, female stuff . . .” And then my mother paused, as if she had a thought.
She was still standing next to Wyatt when her eyes asked the question.
I nodded so slightly, and subtly pressed my index finger against my lips.
My mother’s nod back to me was just as subtle. And because Wyatt never paid attention, he didn’t notice our exchange.
“Female stuff, huh?” was all he said, not figuring out what my mother had.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m a woman and I feel sorry for the Johnsons.”
He shrugged. “They started this fight,” he said. “As soon as they back away, and get the DA off my back, we’ll back away, too. But until then . . .” He shrugged. “I don’t think it will be too much longer, though. Newt says all of this stuff is working.”
My mother clapped. “That’s good, isn’t it, Meredith?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, he said public sentiment has definitely shifted our way,” Wyatt said. “I’m going to check on Billy.”
“And I’ll go with you,” my mother said.
Only my mother looked back at me as the two of them stepped out of the room.
Once alone tears burned my eyes again, but not so much for Janice. This time I wanted to cry for myself. There had never been a time in my life when I’d felt more like a hypocrite.
Chapter 27
For the past ten days, it had been Newt and his team, arriving promptly at nine every morning. Today, Newt stepped into our home alone without a word, without a smile, and my heart stopped beating.
Like always, Wyatt didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. He trotted down the steps and greeted Newt with his buddy hug and loud exclamation: “What’s going on, dude? What do we have today?”
But when Wyatt moved toward this office, Newt said, “Let’s talk in the living room.” And then he turned as if this were his home.
And we followed, as if we were his guests.
How my legs held up I would never know. But my limbs stayed strong enough for me to stagger to the sofa. I sank into the cushions and Wyatt sat beside me.
I knew that my husband finally got it; I knew that he was reading Newt’s unspoken message when he reached for my hand and held me.
I was thankful because I wanted to hold on to him, too.
Newt didn’t waste a moment. In his all-business tone, he said, “The state prosecutor has decided to press charges.” A pause and a blink. “First-degree murder.”
Wyatt gasped and I cried out.
“I’ve arranged for you to turn yourself in tomorrow.” He paused again, this time as if he were waiting for Wyatt to say something.
And I waited, too.
But Wyatt sat as still as I was.
Newt took his silence as permission to continue. “I want to do this first thing in the morning. This way, we have a chance of having bail set tomorrow. Normally, the bond hearing isn’t until the preliminary arraignment, but I’ve already talked to the DA and we may be able to get a few concessions because of who you are.”
All my husband did was nod. I expected more, I expected rage. But then, I realized that Wyatt was shell-shocked. And I understood. Because I’d convinced myself that his and Newt’s strategy, as foul as it was, was going to work.
Now I couldn’t believe that it hadn’t worked. All of that tearing down of Marquis and his parents. For what? For nothing!
As if Newt heard my thoughts, he said, “Now, I don’t want you to think that what we’ve done so far has been in vain. The momentum had totally swung in our favor. It’s just that in this political climate . . . and with Barack Obama as president . . . when in doubt, it goes to the blacks.”
This time, Wyatt nodded and grunted.
“My plan is for you to be in jail for just a few hours. Overnight, tops.”
Those words woke my husband up.
“Jail?” he said. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
“Don’t panic. Remember I told you last week that this could happen. But we’ve got it under control. I’m thinking that there may not even be a trial. I’m thinking that a good part of this is symbolic.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, tomorrow is June twelfth, a month later . . . you know.”
“Are you sure that I’m going to get bail?” Wyatt asked.
“In Pennsylvania, every defendant has the opportunity for bail. You’re white, no other offenses, you’re not a flight risk, you’ll get bail. It may be high, though.”
Wyatt raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t worry,” Newt said. “You’ll be able to handle it. About a million, though I’m going to get it as low as possible because it has to be in cash.”
“I don’t have that kind of money sitting around. It may take a few days.”
“We’ll handle it. I’m not going to let you sit in there.”
Wyatt released a long breath and held his head in his hands.
“Listen to me, buddy,” Newt said. “I need you to be strong. Because it’s important that you show nothing but confidence. Everybody has to believe that you know you’re innocent. And then everybody will know that, too.”
“Okay. Okay.”
I closed my eyes because I didn’t know it.
Newt said, “It’s going to be a simple case, a self-defense case.”
“Good,” Wyatt said. “I wanna tell everyone that I was standing my ground.”
“That’s not a defense. Self-defense is the legal defense, and we’ll talk about Stand Your Ground as part of that.”
“Okay. Okay.”
“The other side wants to put this law on trial, but they’re making a mistake. They have no basis for attacking Stand Your Ground. As soon as Marquis brought that bat out, it was over. There was nothing else that you could do.”
“Right. Right.” And then, my husband added, “I want to testify.”
But he’d hardly gotten the words out when Newt said, “I can already tell you that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?” my husband asked, with a tinge of that confident rage that he always had. “It’s self-defense; won’t I have to testify?”
“No, there are plenty of ways around it. And I have a feeling that the prosecution is going to put you on the stand via your taped interview versus your statements.”
“Is that bad?”
Newt shrugged. “It’s not good. You contradicted yourself, but I’ll be able to handle that.”
Wyatt shook his head. “No, I want to get on that stand and tell everyone exactly what happened.”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? And that’s one of the reasons why I won’t let you testify. You, my friend, don’t do a good job of listening to other people and you certainly can’t always hold in your anger. The DA will rip you apart.”
“No, he—”
Newt didn’t even let him finish. “That’s a definite, dude. You’re not testifying.” And then he paused, and looked at me. “We haven’t decided, but we are thinking about having Meredith take the stand.”
“What?” Wyatt and I said together.
“I thought a wife couldn’t testify against her husband.”
Newt frowned. “Of course she wouldn’t be testifying against you. She’d be one of our witnesses, part of the defense, testifying for you.”
I swallowed, I shook, and I thanked God that I didn’t faint right there.
“When the jurors take a look at her,” Newt said as if I weren’t there; and then, his eyes roamed over me as if Wyatt wasn’t there, “no one is going to believe that a man married to her would kill anyone.”
“Really?” Wyatt asked. “That kind of stuff works?”
“In cases like this, it’s all about theatrics. Never forget Johnnie Cochran and the glove. All drama and that’s what we’re going to do, too.”
Finally, I found my words. “But I can’t testify.” When both of them frowned, I said, “I’d be too nervous. And . . . I don’t want to do anything to hurt Wyatt.”
Newt nodded and Wyatt once again took my hand. “Don’t worry about that, Meredith,” Newt said. “We’ll have you so prepped, you’ll be fine. We haven’t decided yet; I just wanted to put it out there, give you a heads-up.”
“Okay,” Wyatt said, and squeezed my hand as if he were speaking for me. “She’ll be ready.”
“I know she will be.” Newt stood. “Well, if you don’t have any other questions, I want to get going. There’s lots of work to do before tomorrow.”
Wyatt and I stood with him, though only Wyatt walked him to the door. I didn’t have the strength. I had to use all the energy I had to figure out how to stay off the stand.
Why was the door open?
I took two steps down the stairs and heard Wyatt’s footsteps, rushing along the marble.
And then I saw him. Running toward the door. But he slipped and dropped what he was carrying.
A bat.
Billy’s baseball bat.
I frowned and wondered what was he doing with that?
Wyatt bent down, then looked up and into the glass that surrounded our door. That served as a mirror at night.
His back was still to me as he looked into that reflection.
A second passed, then another, and another.
And then he rushed out the door.
What was he doing with that bat?
I shot straight up in my bed, panting. It took a few seconds before I realized I was home, in my bedroom, in my bed, next to Wyatt.
Moving as gently as I could, I eased out of the bed, then scurried across to the bathroom. I took great care in making sure the door made no sound as I closed it, then I assumed the position.
But nothing came out. I was empty. Of everything.
I lowered the cover of the commode, sat on it, held my head in my hands, and remembered the rest of May 12. How I’d come downstairs, just in time to peek out the door. Just in time to see Wyatt trot to the end of our driveway, then watch him roll Billy’s bat under a car parked in front of our home.
Then, only a couple of seconds after that, two police cars appeared with flashing lights and parked next to the car. I wanted to go outside and stand by Wyatt; I wanted to know what was going on. But I couldn’t leave Billy alone.
So from the window, I watched as Wyatt spoke to the police, and watched the police help a young girl out of the car.
Then my eyes widened as Wyatt walked up our driveway with one of the officers.
“What happened?” I asked when he was still feet away.
“I just shot someone.”
“Oh, my God, Wyatt.” I tried to get a glance out the door, but he blocked me from seeing. “What happened?”
“I was trying to help a girl, and this thug came after me. With a baseball bat.”
“A baseball bat?”
Wyatt spoke over me. “I have to go down to the police station. To give a statement.” He leaned over and gave me a long, long, long kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. They just need to ask me a few questions.”
The officer nodded as if what Wyatt was saying was true. Then, the two of them walked away. And as I watched the policeman escort my husband down the driveway, then open the door of the squad car, I wondered about that baseball bat. And I wondered if Wyatt knew that I’d seen him.
For weeks now, I’d been asking myself that question—did Wyatt know that I’d seen him?
I heard just the slightest creak and I looked up and gasped when Wyatt stepped into the bathroom.
“You scared me!”
“Really? I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His gaze was filled with curiosity. “What’s wrong with you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
He sighed and waited a moment before he asked, “Why don’t you want to tell me?”
My heart swooped down to my feet. “Tell
you what? I just wasn’t feeling well, and didn’t want to disturb you.”
He reached for me and I was so afraid to touch him, but I did. I took his hand and he raised me up. Then, closing the gap between us, he placed his hand on my belly, and I stopped breathing.
When he leaned over and kissed my stomach, I closed my eyes.
He knew!
“I hope it’s a girl this time,” he whispered. “That would complete our family. A girl and a boy.”
I said nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“Because with all that’s going on, I didn’t want this to be a burden.”
His voice was soft and gentle and kind when he said, “How could a child with you, the woman I love, be a burden? I’m thrilled about this.”
“I was worried . . .”
“This is perfect timing, sweetheart. We’ll have to tell Newt tomorrow. So that he can expedite the trial. Because in court, everyone needs to see that you’re pregnant. And then they will know that there is no way they can take a man away from his pregnant wife.” He held my face between his hands and kissed me. “When they see your beautiful face and your swollen belly.” He kissed me again. “I know you’re scared, sweetheart, but we’re going to get through this together. You won’t have to worry; I’m not going to prison. This is a blessing. It’s a sign that God doesn’t want me in jail, that God knows my heart, that God knows what I did was right.”
He leaned back and he peered into my eyes. And what I wanted to see in his was love. But that’s not what I saw. His voice, his words, were the opposite of his hard stare. His warning.
I trembled.
He took two steps back and smiled. Held my hand and led me away. Back to bed.
He whispered, “It’s going to be all right,” over and over as he pulled back the duvet and tucked me into bed.
I wanted to run. Truly. But where would I go?
Wyatt smoothed the covers over me, and as he went to his side, I talked to the God that Wyatt said approved of what he’d done.
Seconds later, he was beside me, his body pressed against my back, and he wrapped me in a tight hug.
I trembled some more.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, though my voice shook in rhythm with my body.
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