Sandra Brown

by The Witness [lit]

  She was right. It wasn't much of a town. From his vantage point, he could see a generic filling station and service garage, a barbecue restaurant, a barber shop, and . . . a post office!

  He set out across the asphalt parking lot, which was as hot as a griddle. In under a minute his shirt was soaked with sweat and his muscles were quivering with fatigue. God, how he despised and resented this weakness!

  From the corner of his eye he saw a boy whizzing past on his bicycle. "Hey, kid!" he called.

  The boy, whom he guessed to be about twelve, glanced over his shoulder, pivoted the bike on the front tire, and pedaled closer.

  "What happened to your leg?"

  "It got busted in a car wreck."

  "Your head, too?"

  "Yeah. My head, too. What town is this? Are we in Tennessee?"

  The boy jerked the bike to a halt. He peered closely into his face and broke a wide grin. "Sweet. You're high, aren't you?" He formed a ring with his thumb and index finger, then placed them against his lips and sucked at them as though smoking marijuana.

  "I'm not high, I just want to know where I am."

  In a stage whisper, he said, "Katmandu, dude. Except ain't you a little old to be getting stoned? I mean, you gotta be at least forty."

  "Yeah, I'm ancient. A relic. Now, what's the name of this fucking town?"

  "Jeez, you're weird." The kid yanked the bike safely out of reach, remounted, and sped off, pedaling fast.

  "Wait, come back!"

  The kid shot him the finger.

  He glanced around, hoping no one had witnessed the exchange. He wasn't sure he wanted the police alerted to a banged-up stranger asking strange questions. The only reason he wanted to go to the post office was to find out exactly where he was and to see if any of the wanted posters on the walls bore a picture of him.

  He gauged the remaining distance and calculated that the post office was farther away than he'd thought. The exertion of crossing the parking lot, along with the heat, had sapped his strength.

  How much time did he have before she returned to the car?

  How long would her shopping take? How many other items besides his beer did she intend to buy? She hadn't seemed to be in any particular hurry when she went into Suddenly he envisioned Kendall as she had looked entering the store. She had been carrying Kevin, her handbag, and the diaper bag. The diaper bag. If she intended to be in the store only a few minutes, why had she taken the diaper bag with her?

  He turned around and began hobbling back toward the supermarket, covering the distance as rapidly as the crutches allowed. "You goddamn fool," he huffed. "Why'd you let her out of your sight?"

  He'd had a hunch that she was about to split. That's why he had insisted on coming with her today But what had made him think his presence would prevent her from doing what she was obviously determined to do? Stupidly, he had played right into her devious little hands.

  Cursing his gullibility and his handicap, he forced himself to move faster.

  "Oh, my God. My God." Kendall didn't realize that she had spoken aloud until she heard her whimpering voice.

  Ducking her head, she backed away from the newspaper d ispenser, away from the large picture of herself on the front page. She plunged headlong for the exit.

  Before she was recognized, she had to get out of the store.

  Had five minutes elapsed? Mrs. Williams would be waiting.

  Kendall knew that if she wasn't there in time, the woman might leave.

  Then another, more horrifying thought occurred to her:

  What if Mrs. Williams had read the morning newspaper and recognized her on sight?

  She would have to take that chance, she decided. She had no choice. As she had feared, a manhunt was on and she was the quarry.

  Outside, she squinted against the glare of the sun and kept close to the exterior wall of the building. He wouldn't be able to see her from the car, but

  "Going somewhere?"

  Heart plummeting, Kendall spun around. He was leaning heavily on his crutches. His chest rose and fell with his labored breathing. His hair was literally dripping sweat.

  "Why did you get out of the car?"

  "Why are you coming out this door? The car's on the other side of the building."

  "Oh, uh, I guess I got turned around inside."

  "Uh-huh. Why didn't you buy anything?"

  Why hadn't she bought anything? Think, Kendall! "Kevin spit up as soon as we got inside. I don't think he's feeling well. The heat or something is making him cranky and upset."

  "He looks fine to me."

  Kevin had, in fact, never looked healthier or happier as he blew bubbles and batted at her earring. "Well, he isn't," she snapped. "I'll have to come back another time."

  She struck off toward the car, which was in the opposite direction of the service station where a puzzled and exasperated Mrs. Williams would be waiting.

  She wouldn't be buying another car today.

  She wouldn't be making another escape, either.

  Chapter 14

  "Is Li a Chinese name?"

  In response to Kendall's question, the jail guard shrugged his broad shoulders. "think, Jap, who knows? I can't tell one slope from another."

  Kendall's reproving glance bounced right off him. He unlocked the small room where she would confer with her new client. As she was ushered in, the accused rapist, Michael Li, came to his feet.

  "I'll be right outside." The guard practically snarled the words at the young man.

  Kendall closed the door on the guard, turned, and approached Li, whose posture was so rigid that she had an impulse to say, "At ease. " After introducing herself and shaking hands, she indicated that he should sit down. She sat across the table from him.

  "Do you need anything? Something to drink?"

  "No, ma'am," he replied stoically.

  Eighteen-year-old Michael Li had a virtually beardless, smooth complexion and neatly trimmed straight black hair.

  He was short and slight. His dark eyes were wary but curious as he watched her reach into her briefcase and remove a legal pad and pen.

  "Jail is never pleasant," she said. "Even as I say that, I realize it's a gross understatement."

  "Have you ever been in jail?" he asked.

  "Once," she answered honestly. "I was arrested while protesting the ban of certain books in the public library."

  He nodded with seeming approval.

  "I'll arrange bail for you immediately."

  "My family won't be able to afford it." He spoke with stiff dignity. "I don't want to burden my parents any more than this unfortunate misunderstanding already has, Mrs. Burnwood."

  "I'm sure we can work out a suitable financial arrangement."

  "If at all possible, I want to continue going to school," he said. "It's important that I graduate with my class."

  "You're valedictorian, isn't that right?"

  "That's correct."

  "Your parents must be awfully proud."

  "Yes, ma'am, they are. I've been offered full scholarships to several universities. I haven't decided on which to accept."

  He looked down at his hands and picked at a loose cuticle.

  "After this, having to make that decision might not be a problem."

  For the time being, Kendall thought it best to steer the conversation away from Mr. Li's future. Reminders of what he stood to lose should things not go their way would be demoralizing. She continued the preliminary interview by trying to get a sense of the young man she would be defending.

  "You participate in many school activities and organizations, including the National Honor Society."

  "Yes, ma'am. In fact, it was on an NHS trip to Gatlinburg when Kim and I first noticed one another."

  "Why don't you start there and bring me up to date."

  While taking in the tourist attractions of the Tennessee mountain town, he and his classmate Kimberly Johnson had "started hanging out together."

  "After that, we went out re
gularly. But I never picked her up at her house. We would always meet. She didn't think her parents would approve of her dating me. They consider me a foreigner."

  Suddenly his eyes came alight with fierce pride. "I'm an American, the same as Kim. The same as Mr. Johnson. My mother was born in America. My father's family emigrated when he was a baby. He never even learned to speak Chinese and speaks better English than Mr. Johnson."

  Kendall didn't doubt that. She didn't know Herman John son well, but she had seen him frequently at the country club.

  He was usually tipsy, talking too loudly, telling off-color jokes, and generally making an ass of himself.

  She didn't know Mr. Li, either, but he and his wife were to be commended for rearing such a well-mannered, over achieving son.

  According to the information she had been given, they were hardworking people, worthy of their son's pride.

  Over time Michael Li's relationship with Kim Johnson had intensified. "We're pretty serious," he said solemnly. He admitted that they had been having sexual relations for about two months.

  "Responsibly," he added with emphasis. "I'm always protected. And I swear, it was always consensual. I would never do anything to hurt Kim." Tears came to his eyes. "Never."

  "I believe you," Kendall assured him. "Now tell me exactly what happened last night."

  He and Kim had met at the library to study. They sat at the same table but studiously ignored each other every time they fell under the librarian's baleful gaze.

  They left the building separately, but, as prearranged, he joined Kim in the parking lot and got into her car. Not quite able to meet Kendall's eyes, he admitted that they got into the backseat strictly for the purpose of having sex.

  "I realize this is embarrassing for you, Michael," she said sympathetically. "But if this charge sticks and you're tried for rape, you'll have to answer much more explicit questions from the witness stand. The prosecutor will be merciless. From now on, it's mandatory that you be candid with me. Can I rely on that?"

  He nodded, and she began asking him pertinent questions.

  "Did Kim remove her clothing?"

  "Only her underpants."

  "She was wearing a skirt, then?"

  "Yes."

  "Blouse?"

  "Yes."

  "Brassiere?"

  "Yes."

  "None of these were removed?"

  "Unfastened, but we didn't take them off."

  "What about you?"

  "I just unzipped my pants."

  "Did you remove your shirt?"

  "No."

  "Unbutton it?"

  "Yes."

  "When you were caught, did people see you with your shirt unbuttoned?"

  "I suppose so. Is that relevant?"

  "It's doubtful that a rapist would take the time to unbutton his shirt. That's something a lover would do."

  He relaxed; he even gave her a fleeting smile.

  "Had you completed the act by the time Mr. Johnson arrived?"

  "Yes."

  "You had ejaculated?"

  He lowered his eyes. "Into the, uh, condom."

  "So the physical evidence sent to the lab is incontrovertible?"

  "Yes." He raised his head. "I don't deny that Kim and I had sex, Mrs. Burnwood. But it was not rape, as Mr. Johnson claims. The librarian called and told him that I'd followed Kim from the building. She was concerned for Kim's safety.

  If you have slanted eyes, you're considered suspicious, I guess," , . . . , , , he said scornfully.

  "Anyway, since Kim wasn't home yet, Mr. Johnson panicked. He came looking for her and was already foaming at the mouth before he even found us. He pulled me from the car and started choking me. I thought he was going to kill me."

  "What about Kim? What was she doing?"

  "Sobbing hysterically. When the police arrived, an officer hauled her out of the backseat. She was still partially undressed."

  He covered his face with his hands. "She must have been mortified. Everybody inside the library had come out to see what the commotion was about. All those people were gaping at her. There was nothing I could do to spare her that embarrassment."

  Kendall set aside her pen and folded her arms on the table.

  "When Kim is questioned, what do you think she'll tell the police?"

  "That I never raped her!" he exclaimed. "I never even coerced her.

  She'll tell them that, if she hasn't already. She won't let me be indicted for rape. Once the police talk to her and get the facts straight, I'll be released.

  Kendall didn't share his faith in Kimberly Johnson's loyalty.

  Herman Johnson's violent response to finding his daughter in flagrante delicto with Michael Li might have frightened the girl so badly that she would lie to the police, the D.A., and a jury in order to escape her father's wrath.

  Kendall had known witnesses with much less at stake who perjured themselves for their own protection. Kim might fear ostracism from her family if she admitted compliance, particularly if their objections to Michael Li were racially motivated.

  Even if Kim admitted to her parents that she was attracted to Michael, they might force her to lie. They might not want it to become public knowledge that their daughter was having an affair with a young man of Asian descent, not even if he was valedictorian of their class and destined for greatness.

  Kendall chided herself for unfairly bigotry on the Johnsons, whom she hardly knew. But she feared the worst.

  In all likelihood, they would go to any lengths to prove that Michael Li had raped their daughter. Kim, to protect herself from scandal and reprisal, would probably go along.

  Kendall didn't want her pessimism revealed to her client, however. It was crucial to put a positive spin on things. "I'm sure your classmates will testify that you and Kim are a steady couple. Your teachers will make good character witnesses.

  Over all, we've got a lot working in our favor."

  She placed her notes in her briefcase and stood. "I hope Mr. Johnson rescinds his charge. If he doesn't, I'll try to get your arraignment set for tomorrow."

  The youth insisted it wouldn't get that far. "Kim loves me as much as I love her. She'll tell them the truth. Then her father will have no choice but to withdraw the charge."

  Kendall wished she could share his confidence.

  She never left the courthouse without thinking of Bama. The homeless man apparently had skipped town on a freight train.

  At least that's what she and Roscoe had theorized.

  "He's a born rambler, I guess," the custodian had replied when Kendall asked him if he, too, had noticed that Bama was missing from his usual spot on the courthouse steps. "He showed up one morning, out of nowhere. I suppose that's where he's headed to now. Nowhere. Gonna be missed round here," he added sadly.

  More than a week had passed since Bama's disappearance.

  As she left the courthouse shortly after her meeting with Michael Li, she was poignantly reminded of the brief exchanges they had shared. She missed them. He had been the first to greet her when she arrived and the last to say goodbye when she left. He had become like a friend.

  This afternoon, she felt friendless.

  Her office was still not entirely set to rights after the Crooks' vandalism. She continued to believe they were responsible, although she had no proof and, as she had predicted, the police had made no effort to investigate.

  The cluttered office had given her a bad case of claustrophobia. The session with Michael Li had depressed her. Feeling the four walls closing in, she had decided to take the discovery file on the Lynam case out to Mrs. Lynam's house. The fresh air would do her good, she decided, and the round-trip drive would give her uninterrupted time in which to think.

  She felt dejected, and the reason was personal, not professional. More than twenty-four hours had passed since she learned that she was carrying Matt's child, but she still hadn't told him.

  Last night he had robbed her of the opportunity by expressing viewpoints that
she would never have attributed to him.

  She had been shocked to hear her husband professing such outmoded beliefs about marriage and the roles each partner should play.

  If he had spoken in jest, or even in anger, she could have dismissed his unheralded sexist remarks. But because he had stated them with such calm conviction, she had been dwelling on them all day.

  He was parroting Gibb, of course. Matt didn't really want a mousy, submissive wife. Otherwise he never would have married her. But it disturbed her that Gibb held such sway over Matt's thinking. Just as it had distressed her to find that Gibb's influence in this town extended into areas totally unrelated to him.

  In order for her to recapture the euphoria she had experienced upon learning that she was pregnant, she and Matt would first have to reach a new understanding about their partnership and Gibb's meddling.

  She was mildly resentful of the time, energy, and emotion such a discussion would require of her, especially at a time when all her resources needed to be channeled into defending Lottie Lynam.

  Kendall and Solicitor Gorn had engaged in a bitter dispute over her bail, but Judge Fargo, to Kendall's surprise, had ruled in their favor. Mrs. Lynam had been able to raise the money by mortgaging her family's property, which had come to her by default. None of her brothers or sisters had wanted it.

  The defense platform was shaky. She hoped Mrs. Lynam would spot something useful in the discovery documents she was taking to her. Perhaps she would see something in the state's evidence file that would create reasonable doubt in the minds of the jury and support an argument for self-defense.

  Kendall was under no delusions. This trial was going to be tough and would require all her skills. Thinking about it caused a burning sensation between her shoulder blades. Her neck muscles were in knots.

  It wouldn't be good for her client to see her anxious and uptight. On impulse, she pulled the car to a stop at the side of the narrow road. The house was only a short walk from this point. The exercise would be good for her and for the baby.

  She left her car and struck out on foot. The boughs of the trees were lined with the bright new green that announces the approach of spring. This promise of renewal, in addition to the embryo that her body was nurturing, rejuvenated Kendall's sense of purpose. She was determined to succeed, both professionally and personally. She had taken an enormous gamble when she came to Prosper. She couldn't fail.