“Why are you telling me all of this, Abbott?”
“I’m telling you this so that you understand. There have only been two times in my life that I’ve stood up for myself, against how I was raised. Both times were for Rachael. So for the first time I’m doing what I believe is right for me and my children. You seem to be forgetting that I was having an affair with the woman whose murderer you are defending. It may have been a mistake, but I was in love with her. I was falling in love with her, more than I realized, and now she’s dead and I’ll never get to tell her that. So, I’d like to be left alone with my decision. I need time to grieve.”
Hampton sighed. “I won’t quit. I’m not going to give up on her, you can quit paying me if that’s what you decide to do, but I’m fighting for her. You’re a coward, Caide Abbott, a cheater and a coward and taking away your support will not help you now.”
“Why do you care so much, Hampton?”
The line filled with silence as Caide finally asked the question he desperately needed to know.
Finally, Hampton answered, barely more than a whisper. “Someone has to.”
There was a swift click on the end as Hampton snapped his phone shut, leaving Caide alone to deal with his decisions and the silence that enveloped him.
Chapter Thirty
Shayna
“Today’s date is November 24, 2003. It is 9:15 a.m. and this is the first session in the six week course of the Rachael Abbott trial.”
Shayna lowered the tape recorder from her lips and placed it on the glass table in front of her. She smiled at Rachael. “Could you please state your first and last name for the recording?”
“My name is Rachael Abbott.” Her voice was shaky and gruff, as though she’d just woken up from a long nap.
“And Rachael, you understand that these tapes are for research only, correct? No one but you and I will ever hear them unless you give me permission.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“You also understand that I will be subpoenaed to appear at your trial. While I will not be able to repeat anything you’ve disclosed to me, I will be asked to give my opinion about your condition. Does that make sense?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, great. Let’s get started. Rachael, tell me why you are here.”
Rachael paused, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling to her right. Memory recall.
“I was, well, I am, being accused of murder. Of murdering my husband’s mistress.” Shayna spied her hands ball into tight fists as she said the phrase.
“Tell me about the past few months of your life,” Shayna coaxed.
Rachael looked at her with an expressionless face and began to speak. “The past two months have been the worst of my entire life.” She shook her head. “Gosh, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. One sentence can’t begin to describe what I’ve been through. Two months ago, my biggest worry was whether I remembered to pack a spoon in my daughter’s lunchbox or forgetting to pay the electric bill. That seems like a whole other life now. I guess it all started with the accident. Or, that’s what we’re hoping, right? I mean, it doesn’t really feel that significant. We were on our way to the park, it was a Sunday morning. Caide and I were arguing. I don’t even remember what it was about honest. Something silly, probably.”
“Do you feel like you fight with your husband a lot?”
“Sometimes. Arguments more than fights. Two months ago, I’d have said they were all small and silly, meaningless arguments. That’s all they were for me.” She looked down at her hands, picking at a piece of skin beside her nails. “We fought about work. Caide picked at my job a lot. I always thought it was all in fun, but now I see I was probably wrong. He hated having a wife with such a frivolous career like dancing, though my studio brings in an equal part of our income. We also fought about the kids, him working too much, just normal marriage stuff: whose job it was to do what around the house, who didn’t hang up their wet towel, whose turn it was to get up with Davis at night. It was never enough to make me think my marriage was truly in trouble.”
Her voice was shaky, but firm, making Shayna wonder if she’d rehearsed this. “Tell me, Rachael, during these fights, did it ever get physical between the two of you?”
“No.” Rachael looked genuinely shocked, even defensive. “Of course not. My husband has never physically hurt me, never. Caide isn’t a physical person. Even in college, he was never angry or aggressive—” She stopped as if she’d realized something and blushed. “Oh. You were asking about me weren’t you? You wanted to know if I’d ever hurt my husband? I just assumed you meant him.” She looked up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry. This is all so new to me. I’ve never hurt my husband. Our fights aren’t like that.”
“Okay,” Shayna said simply, an encouraging smile on her face. “So you were telling me about the accident.”
“Right. So, we were driving. We drove around a curve on Waterford and I guess I took it a little too sharp. When I hit my brakes nothing happened. I pushed them harder. Caide realized what was going on but there was nothing we could do. It all happened so fast. We went into a ditch and tipped over into a tree. It could’ve been a lot worse, that’s what everyone keeps saying.”
“What do you remember about the moment you left the road?”
“Everything. Nothing. It all happened so quickly that it’s all a blur. We went into the ditch head on and then there was a loud crash. I was touching grass through broken glass that had been my window. I remember tasting blood, that’s what brought me back to reality. I didn’t hear my children crying and I couldn’t turn to see them. Caide was awake and I remember hearing him say my name. He said it over and over but I couldn’t answer him. I knew I should, but I couldn’t form the words, no matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t remember how to speak. I opened my eyes but there was blood all in them, so I just kept them shut. I remember hearing noises, and Caide talking. I think he got out of the car, but I don’t remember. The next thing I remember clearly was waking up in the ambulance. They’d wiped my eyes so I could see and there was no one I recognized there.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Terrified. I was trying to remember what had happened. No one would tell me where my children were, if they were even alive. The paramedics kept asking me questions but all I could think about was my children. I tried to sit up but my head was so heavy. I realized then that they had me strapped down.”
“Did that trigger any fears? Claustrophobia? Entrapment anxiety?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t remember being scared for myself at all.”
“What about your pain scale? Do you remember what it felt like? Do you remember what hurt the most?”
“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling pain. I mean, not in an ‘I can’t feel my legs’ kind of way, I knew I was hurt and I felt it, sort of, like in the back of my mind. I just couldn’t think of anything but my children, not until I knew they were safe. That’s what I remember most of all, wanting to see their faces again.”
“I see,” Shayna said, mentally noting that Rachael had not once mentioned worry over Caide.
“Is that bad? Not remembering much?”
“Do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. I can see it all so clearly but trying to explain it, it’s all fuzzy. I’m just having trouble deciphering between what I need to worry over and what I don’t.”
“Don’t overanalyze my questions or your answers. I just want to know what comes to your mind first.”
Rachael nodded. “Once we got to the hospital, they brought me in on a stretcher. I remember feeling the cracks in the sidewalk as they rolled me over them. They shined a light in my eyes. There were so many doctors, so many hands all over me. They were stitching me up and covering me in bandages and before I knew it I was in the machine for my MRI. I fell asleep during it and they had to stop it to wake me up. They didn’t want me to sleep at all. I remember that worrying me. I was in the hospital the rest of
the day, exhausted but they wouldn’t let me sleep. That night, once they released me I was finally able to see my children. They were both fine. Brinley didn’t have a scratch on her, just a bump on her head. Davis has a broken leg and was pretty beaten up, but all in all they were fine.”
“And Caide?”
“Caide had a dislocated shoulder and stitches on his knee. We all had minor injuries. Everyone told us how lucky we were.”
“It sounds like you were pretty lucky.”
Rachael nodded. “I just wanted to say thank you again for doing this for me. Lately it seems like everything and everyone around me is working against me. It’s nice to have someone be nice for a change.”
“I know this has to be hard on you. From what I’ve seen, I’d say you’re handling yourself quite well.” Shayna smiled at Rachael, waiting for a smile back. The one Rachael offered looked foreign on her sallow, grief stricken face.
“Thanks.” She wiped her cheek instinctively, though Shayna hadn’t noticed a tear. “I appreciate you saying that, but I don’t feel like I’m handling anything well. I’m falling apart.”
“Someone once said ‘you never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.’ I always thought that was beautiful.”
“I like that.” Rachael nodded, looking around the room. “Is this your daughter?” She pointed toward a framed portrait on a bookshelf near the window. Standing up, she walked toward it, rubbing her finger across the glass.
“That’s Lydia, my baby sister.”
“She’s beautiful.” Rachael mumbled, entranced by the little girls haunting blue eyes.
“Thank you.”
“We’re not supposed to talk about you, are we?”
Shayna smiled sadly. “We’ve got six weeks together, I’d say it’s okay to take a break from the job occasionally.”
Rachael nodded, sitting the frame down carefully. “Do you think it will take six weeks to diagnose me?”
“Everything in its own time. I could very possibly diagnose you in a week. I want to do more than diagnose you, Rachael, I want to help you. I want to find out what caused you to be this way. I want to help find a cure, not just a treatment.”
“This is important to you.”
It wasn’t a question but Shayna nodded. “It’s very important to me.”
“Can I ask why?”
“You can.” Shayna glanced at her watch. “But you’ll have to wait. Our time for today is up. I should go see if Hampton is here for you.”
***
Rachael
Rachael sat back on the couch again. It had been so long since she’d sat comfortably. In jail, even her bed felt as if it were made of concrete. She rested her head on a pillow behind her. I’ll be back tomorrow, she told herself. She closed her eyes, knowing that these sessions would end too soon and she may never sit on a couch so comfortable for the rest of her life. The thought was terrifying. She found herself imagining heaven: could hers be lined with couches upon couches like this one? She’d never have to leave a couch again. She could only imagine that’s what heaven would be like after a lifetime in prison with cold rooms and bony mattresses. Then another, more troubling, thought struck her. Do murderers get to go to heaven? Even if they can’t remember committing their crime? Surely she could reason with God, make him see that she’d suffered and paid for her crimes enough on Earth already. Even sentenced to a life in paradise, a life without her children would be punishment enough. She couldn’t help but wonder if Blaire was in heaven now. Was she watching down, laughing because even in death she’d somehow won Caide? Now Rachael would never have him again. There was a small part of Rachael that hoped Blaire hadn’t gone to heaven. She hated the idea that that bitch might be floating around on a cloud right now, while she stayed here waiting to rot in prison. I mean, adultery was a commandment, right? Surely screwing someone else’s husband at least landed you in purgatory.
Rachael got a certain amount of joy picturing Blaire being stopped at the pearly gates. Maybe heaven was like the Scarlett Letter and Blaire was allowed in but she had to wear a giant red ‘A’, maybe her halo was an ‘A’ instead. Maybe all of the angels teased her and gave her the glass of milk with spit in it at suppertime. Maybe she’d be picked last for angel sports and have to sleep on rain clouds rather than regular ones. Rachael was amusing herself with this fantasy when her thoughts were interrupted.
“He’s here, Rachael.”
Rachael looked toward the doorway and saw Argus waiting for her. “Thanks again, Shayna.” She stood, casting a longing glance toward the light pink couch once more before she sulked out the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place.” She patted Rachael’s shoulder. Rachael was surprised to see Argus not in the suit he’d worn this morning, but instead in jeans and a button down shirt with his sleeves rolled up. As they walked to his car she found herself staring at the little tuft of chest hair peeking out from above his shirt.
“So, how did that go?” he asked, slipping into the car.
Rachael blushed, looking away. “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve ever hoped I might be crazy, so I don’t know whether it went good or bad.”
“Right,” Argus said, furrowing his brow. “Well they say Shayna Steele is the very best there is. We’re very lucky to have gotten her on such short notice.”
“She’s very sweet. I’ll owe Audrey big time if she can help us out.”
He patted her knee. “She’ll help us. I have a good feeling about this one. We’re going to get you all sorted out.”
She ignored the tingling sensation that shot through her leg at his touch. “Thanks, Argus.” She looked out the window, watching the gray sky roll past. “So while I’m being kept in jail will it be the same as last time? I mean, no contact with anyone?”
“Well, this time you’re being held for a slightly different reason, namely, to give the prosecution some satisfaction. You’ll be allowed visitors and phone calls.”
“Could you do me a favor then?”
“What’s that?”
“Could you let Caide know? I know we aren’t on the best terms, but I’d like to see my children. I’d like him to bring them to see me.”
“I can let him know. He may like to hear it from you, though. You can always try to call him.”
“I could, couldn’t I?” Rachael smiled at the small amount of freedom. “Has he told you how they’re doing?”
“We don’t talk much. Your husband is a hard man to get in touch with.”
“Yes. He is. Usually, he’s at work. I hope he’s taking off to help the kids adjust. I can’t imagine how hard this has been on them.”
“I’m sure he’s doing whatever he can for them.”
“I just want to see them.”
“They’ll visit, if they can, I’m sure.”
“What do you mean, if they can?”
“Well, I just mean I’m sure they’ve got a lot going on right now. Besides the usual stuff that they’re now doing with one less person, I’m sure the press is blowing up the phones. I’ve seen for myself that they’re at your house constantly. I just don’t want you to be upset if they don’t visit or call as much as you’d like.”
“Of course. They will visit though, they’ll find a way.” Rachael couldn’t help but feel offended as he tossed her worries aside. What could be more important than seeing their mother?
“Of course they will, Rachael.” He smiled at her. “And I’ll see you as often as I can. Of course with you being out four days a week for your sessions that will leave little time for visits. Just know that whenever you need anything, you can always contact me. I’ll try and keep you up to date with whatever I’m working on as well.”
“Do you put this much effort into each of your cases?”
“I don’t have any other clients at the moment, so you’re my sole focus. Well, your case is.” He let out a laugh. “But rest assured, when I have multiple cases, I’m just like
every other scummy lawyer.”
Rachael smiled. His laugh was nice: warm and deep, sort of welcoming. The lines around his eyes told her of a time when he’d once laughed more than the dignified look he now carried.
“What?” he asked, noticing her staring.
“Nothing.” She smiled. “It’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh.”
“Well, there hasn’t been much call for laughter in our time together. Once we win though, you’ll see me laugh a whole lot more.”
“Do you really think we’ll win?”
He was silent for a second, staring out the windshield. When he spoke, it was with a calmness that slowed Rachael’s breathing. “I think the prosecution’s case is very strong. I also believe that people want to feel sorry for you, after what Caide’s done. With Ms. Steele’s diagnosis I personally can’t believe they’d sentence you.”
Rachael swallowed. “And without her diagnosis? If I don’t pass her tests? Then what?”
He sighed, gripping the steering wheel firmly. “Without her testimony, without her diagnosis, I believe it would be very lucky if we won. I want to believe the good guys always win, Rachael, I’ve seen so much bad throughout my career. I have to believe in the justice system. Judge Crafton is a fair man; I believe he will do what is right. I wish I had something more solid to tell you, I do, but the one thing I’ll tell you that is definite is that I’ll never stop working your case. I won’t give up until you’re free.”
If It Walks Like A Killer (The Carolina Killer Files #1) Page 15