Life Everlasting

by Robert Whitlow

  “I can hear the waterfall.”

  “It’s not far now.”

  The stairs rose to a flat rocky area covered with scrubby trees and bushes. They walked across two small streams no more than a few inches deep. The sound of the waterfall increased. The path disappeared in a bank of scattered rocks. Ducking under some low limbs, they came into an open area beside a bold stream. The waterway came in from the opposite direction and cut sharply to the left. In the middle of the stream, a large boulder split the water in two before both courses plummeted over the edge into the gorge below. In the distance, the hills marched westward toward the higher Appalachians.

  “Nice view,” Sean said.

  “I used to think so,” Rena answered flatly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rena pointed her walking stick at a flat rock near the edge of the water. “That’s where we ate. Baxter spread the napkin there and cut up the bread and cheese.”

  “And the wine?”

  “I drank a little bit; he finished the bottle.”

  “So you were here for quite a while?”

  “Yes. That’s why we took the hike.”

  “Did you see anyone else on the trail or here at the waterfall?”

  “No, it was just like today, only the leaves were just beginning to turn. We had the place to ourselves.”

  Sean sat on the flat rock. Rena walked past him and stood close to the edge of the cliff.

  “Come here,” she said.

  Sean stood up and came toward her. He stopped a foot behind her.

  “This is close enough for me,” he said. “I’m not crazy about heights.”

  “I want to show you the rock where he landed.”

  Sean stepped back. “Maybe in a minute. Tell me again what happened.”

  Rena continued to stare out over the cliff. “I already did. Why do you want to hear it again?”

  “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? So I can get a clear picture of what happened?”

  Rena turned around. At its zenith, the sun shone down on her golden head. But her eyes, not her hair, caught Sean’s attention.

  “Don’t you believe me?” she asked.

  He looked away. “Just tell me. You were sipping wine and eating a snack. How did the argument start?”

  Rena stepped away from the edge. “Everything was fine until he finished the bottle of wine. Baxter drank too much, and when he did, it changed his personality. I’m sure the records at the hospital show that he had more than his share of alcohol in his blood. He started asking me a bunch of questions about his brother, Jeffrey, and accused me of spending time with him when Baxter wasn’t at home. It was crazy.”

  “Why would he think that about you and Jeffrey?”

  Rena shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even like Jeffrey, and I’m not that kind of person anyway. Jeffrey is always flirting with women, but I never responded. I told Baxter that he was being silly, but he wouldn’t stop. He stood up and started pacing.”

  “Where were you standing?”

  Rena looked around. “Uh, at first I was sitting beside the flat rock, but I got up and moved near where I am now.”

  Sean started walking back and forth. “Like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you lose your temper?”

  “No. I mean, I guess I raised my voice to try to make him believe me, but it didn’t do any good. I had the walking stick in my hand, and I told him that if he didn’t stop I would knock some sense into his head.”

  “You threatened him with the stick?”

  Rena stopped and tilted her head to one side. She spoke more slowly. “No, that didn’t happen. I’m wrong. I thought about doing it but didn’t.”

  Sean came closer to her. “Where was the walking stick after the fight?”

  “I don’t remember. I think I left the stick here after Baxter fell.”

  “How did the fight get physical?”

  Rena looked over Sean’s shoulder. “He came at me, grabbed my arms, and shook me.”

  “Where did that happen?”

  Rena stepped back toward the edge. “I’d been backing up because he was so upset.” She reached out and took hold of Sean’s arms. “I held on to him like this. He pushed me backward, but I spun him around.”

  With surprising strength, Rena pulled Sean forward and with a swift move knocked him off balance and turned him so that his back was to the edge of the cliff.

  “Stop it!” the lawyer cried out.

  Rena didn’t release her grip. Sean pulled to the side toward the stream. When he did, he stumbled and pitched backward. If Rena hadn’t held on to him, he would have slipped over the edge. Instead, he went to his knees. Rena released him, and he quickly crawled away from the cliff.

  Crouching on the ground, he cried out, “What got into you? I could have been killed!”

  Rena stepped away from the edge and spoke in a level voice. “Don’t be mad at me. You wanted to know what happened. The difference on the day of the accident was that Baxter pushed me, and when I turned the tables on him he went over the edge.”

  “But it was wrong to do that to me.”

  Rena stared directly at Sean. “Did you feel the fear? That’s what I felt. I thought I was going to die.”

  Sean didn’t answer. He stood and brushed off his pants.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Do you have any other questions?”

  “Not here.”

  From the outside, the Mitchell County Courthouse looked very similar to the First Baptist Church on the adjacent block. The church had a steeple housing a bell; the courthouse had a tower featuring a large clock face with Roman numerals. Both buildings were constructed of reddish brick with a few darker flecks in them. When air conditioning came to the mountains, the courthouse received the benefit of cool air two years before the people on the church pews could enjoy a long sermon on a hot August day.

  A common assignment for third-graders in Mitchell County was to draw a picture of the courthouse clock tower and identify each Roman numeral. Julius Caesar would have been proud of Mrs. Kinnamon’s current class. All twenty-three students correctly identified the numbers, and most successfully completed a few simple math problems that gave them heightened appreciation for the genius of Arabic numbers.

  On Friday, Sean and Rena walked into the Mitchell County Courthouse a half hour before the preliminary hearing was scheduled. Skip Ayers had told Sean that preliminary hearings were rarely held in the main courtroom. Magistrates, lower-level judges who didn’t wear robes, were shuffled into any available space where a few people could squeeze around a table. Today, however, the courthouse schedule must have been light; the hearing had been assigned to the spacious room where the grand jury met for its deliberations.

  The room lacked a judicial bench for the magistrate, but a long table stretched across the front of the room with two smaller tables facing it. The lawyer put his briefcase on one of the two small tables but left it closed.

  Rena, wearing a stylish burnt-orange wool skirt with a decorative sweater, thought she looked more like a graduate student going to a college football game at Clemson than a woman facing a felony criminal investigation. Maybe the innocent look would work in her favor today.

  “Did you phone Alexia this morning?” she asked.

  Sean paused for a split second before answering. “No, my cell phone is dead, and I left the charger at home. She said she would be here, so I expect her any minute. What about Baxter?”

  Rena hadn’t called the hospital, but it wouldn’t sound right to admit it. She just shrugged. “He’s about the same. They’re fighting the pneumonia with antibiotics. There’s nothing I could do if I was there.” She indicated the room with a sweeping gesture. “And all this makes it hard to care what happens to him.”

  A heavyset man wearing suspenders under his suit jacket entered the room. He breathed heavily as he walked.

  “Good morning,” he said with a somewhat leering
grin directed toward Rena, “I’m Vince Kinston, the solicitor.”

  Sean introduced himself. “I have several witnesses under subpoena.”

  “I know. We’ll just have to see who shows up.”

  “If any witness doesn’t honor a subpoena, I’ll need the chance to reconvene the hearing and—”

  Kinston waved his hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Pruitt. I’ve looked over the file. Unless the sheriff ’s department shows me a lot more than currently indicated, there’s no way I’ll present this case to the grand jury.” The solicitor again directed his gaze toward Rena. “We’ll have you out of here before supper time, honey.”

  Kinston shuffled out of the room. Sean peeked out the door.

  “I guess he’s going back to his office.”

  “Did you hear what he said?” Rena began excitedly. “He’s not going to charge me with anything.”

  “Don’t count on anything,” Sean cautioned.

  “He called me honey,” Rena shot back.

  “Which makes him look incompetent but doesn’t mean he won’t seek an indictment. A lot of these rural solicitors go deer hunting with enough men in the jury pool to get a conviction on questionable evidence.”

  Rena pouted. “You can be negative, but I’m feeling a lot better.”

  “Just sit tight, and remember not to say anything. This is our chance to find out what they have in the investigative file.” Sean took out a blank legal pad and placed it in front of her. “If you want to tell me something during the hearing, write it down.”

  “Don’t you think it would help if I told the judge what happened?”

  “No!”

  Rena stepped away and walked to a window behind the magistrate’s seat. As she looked down on the sidewalk one story below, she saw a familiar figure approaching. The confidence that she’d felt moments before evaporated at the sight of Detective Giles Porter. She hurriedly returned to Sean’s side.

  “The detective is here!”

  Sean was sitting at the table with his briefcase open. “Of course he is. I subpoenaed him. As the officer in charge of the investigation, he is the primary witness I want to question.”

  “We know what he thinks,” Rena replied.

  “But we want to know why he thinks it. Don’t expect me to become antagonistic with him today. I want to find out as much as possible, not drive him into a corner. That type of cross-examination is what happens at trial.”

  “He’s been awful from the beginning.”

  “Did you see Alexia?”

  “No.”

  A slightly balding, middle-aged man wearing a wrinkled, gray suit entered the room.

  “I’m Magistrate Simpson,” he said. “We’ll be ready to go as soon as Detective Porter arrives. This is the only case on my calendar for this afternoon.”

  Sean shook Simpson’s hand. “I subpoenaed another officer, as well as the EMT workers who found Mr. Richardson.”

  The magistrate gave him a doubtful look. “Our local EMTs are too busy to come to preliminary hearings.”

  “Then I hope you’ll allow us to continue the hearing at a later date.”

  The magistrate gave a noncommittal shrug. “We’ll get started in a few minutes. I’ll give you a chance to pose your questions to anyone who shows up.”

  Rena turned to Sean. “I need to go to the restroom.”

  “Okay. You have a few minutes.”

  Rena went into the hallway and walked to the top of the stairs. She looked down the stairwell. It was empty. The door to a room across from her was labeled “Law Library.” She went inside. Bookshelves reached the ceiling. A single table sat in the middle of the empty room. Rena took out her cell phone and punched in a number.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “Outside the courthouse. I’m in a green pickup truck.”

  “Is everything ready?”

  “Yes. What are you doing in there?”

  “It’s a court thing and should be over in an hour or so. It may not be a big deal after all.”

  “I don’t like this spot.”

  Rena remembered noticing a convenience store when she looked out the window.

  “Do you see the convenience store across the street from the courthouse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Move there. We’ll do it either today or tomorrow.”

  “You’re staying another night?”

  “Yes, but I’m sending my lawyer back to Charleston.”

  “Okay.”

  Rena clicked off the phone and returned to the grand-jury room. The court reporter hired by Sean arrived and set up at the end of the magistrate’s table. Giles Porter had yet to appear.

  “Where is the detective?” Rena asked in a low voice. “I saw him come into the courthouse.”

  “Probably huddled up with the solicitor.” Sean checked his watch. “They’ll come in at the last minute.”

  Rena sat beside Sean and fidgeted. Everyone in the room had something to do but her. Sean made notes on a legal pad. The magistrate looked at some papers. The court reporter was reading a book. Rena’s stomach began to twist in a knot. She got up and walked again to the window. Alexia had still not arrived. The green truck, however, was in its new location. She breathed a sigh of relief. Escape from everything that haunted her was as easy as a walk across the street.

  She glanced down at the sidewalk again and saw a man in a wheelchair at the bottom of the handicapped access ramp. When he turned his head, she recognized him.

  It was Baxter.

  Rena wanted to scream in frustration. She made a slight choking noise that caused the magistrate to turn in his chair and look at her. She raised her hand to her mouth and coughed.

  “Excuse me,” she managed.

  She looked out the window again. This time he was gone, the sidewalk empty.

  Turning away from the window, she confronted the flesh-and-blood nemesis who wouldn’t disappear. Detective Giles Porter entered the room, followed by Solicitor Kinston. The detective’s eyes met hers and grabbed her before she could look away. In that split second, all Rena’s fears returned with a vengeance. The solicitor closed the door and sat at the other small table.

  “Come forward and be sworn in, Detective Porter,” the magistrate said. “We’re ready to get started.”

  44

  Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you are about to give in the matter before this court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

  JUDICIAL OATH

  Rena sat beside Sean. “Where’s Alexia?” she whispered.

  Sean seemed not to hear her. “Remember,” he said. “Write what you want to tell me. Don’t whisper.”

  Rena rolled her eyes and laid a pen across the top of the pad.

  Sean began by asking Porter questions about the detective’s training and experience. Rena glanced sideways at Solicitor Kinston, who took out a small pocketknife and began to pare his nails. Sean turned over the top page of his legal pad.

  “Detective Porter, how did you become aware of the incident involving Baxter Richardson?”

  “I was in a patrol car and received a call from a Mitchell County 911 operator that Ms. Richardson had phoned in an accidental fatality involving her husband.”

  “Did you initiate phone contact with Rena Richardson?”

  “No.”

  “What did you do in response to the 911 call?”

  “The operator was concerned about Ms. Richardson’s physical condition, so I immediately proceeded to the forest service road in an effort to locate her. An ambulance was also dispatched, but I arrived on the scene first.”

  “Were you alone in the patrol car?”

  “No, a deputy was driving.”

  Sean checked his notes. “Would that be Officer Dortch?”

  “Yes. I requested that a rescue helicopter go to Double Barrel Falls to determine if Baxter Richardson was still alive.”

  “Why did you request a helicopter when the i
ncident was reported as a fatality?”

  “To save Mr. Richardson’s life if it was possible to do so. Ms. Richardson told the 911 operator that her husband had no pulse, but if she was wrong, I wanted to attempt a rescue. In fact, the helicopter flew over shortly after I made initial contact with your client.”

  Rena remembered the sound of the helicopter. If not for the aerial rescue, Baxter would have died at the bottom of the cliff, and she could have gone on with life. She clenched her teeth.

  “What is the first thing she told you?”

  “She asked me not to stay with her but to go up the road because her husband had fallen from a cliff. When I informed her about the helicopter, she told me that her husband was dead and didn’t have a pulse. When I asked if she was sure, she stated that she’d unsuccessfully tried to revive him, but his body was cold and lifeless.”

  The detective had yet to open the folder on the table in front of him.

  “Do you have notes of your conversation with my client?” Sean asked.

  “No, but I have a very good memory. While she was being checked at the Mitchell Regional ER, she gave me her phone number, address, and social-security number.” The detective looked directly at Rena as he repeated the information.

  Rena wrote her social-security number on the pad and underlined it.

  “Show-off,” she muttered.

  “What else did she tell you about her husband’s condition?”

  “Nothing, but she raised my suspicions. One moment she wanted us to leave and check on him, and the next she told me any rescue attempt would be futile.”

  “So that made her a criminal suspect?”

  Porter shook his head. “Not at that time—just a distraught woman who couldn’t provide a coherent account of a traumatic event.”

  In response to further questions, the detective related the trip with Rena to the main highway, where an ambulance met them and transported her to Mitchell Regional Hospital.

  “Did you talk to her during the drive on the forest service road?”

  “No, she was lying in the backseat. She claimed she was nauseated.”