The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  Josie put her hand on the girl's shoulder, angry that all their hard work was going to go up in smoke. "What were you thinking? I told you to keep your arms covered, to keep your hair simple. Those people in there aren't going to like. . ."

  Josie's tirade trailed off. Hannah's head bounced gently like a bobble-head doll, all springs and joints. Unsmiling and bleary-eyed, one thing was clear: Hannah was stoned. So much for Fritz Rayburn's good intentions.

  "Hey!" Josie backed Hannah up against the wall. Furious, she still had the presence of mind to keep her voice down. "What's going on? Are you high? You tell me straight up, Hannah, or I've got one foot out the door."

  "No. Valium," Hannah whispered. "It's just Valium."

  "Oh, Christ. Why would you do something that stupid?" Josie snapped.

  "My mom gave it to me so I wouldn't be upset. Kip's going to talk today." Hannah shook her head, trying to find a normal rhythm to her words. "She said it would help. Don't be mad. Please. Please. Don't be mad."

  Hannah leaned into Josie. Her limp arms came round Josie. Josie's own hovered and finally wrapped Hannah up and held her close. Hannah relaxed, falling into Josie as if she had found a safe warm place. Taking a breath that started in her gut, Josie tipped her chin up and looked at the ugly fluorescent light fixtures, the long cold halls, the wooden doors that led into courtrooms where any bit of information could be twisted and tied into a package to suit anyone's version of the facts. The prosecution had made a big deal of finding the pills and the joint found in Hannah's possession, and today Linda was pumping her kid full of Valium. Wasn't that a fine visual for the jury? Linda couldn't have screwed up more if she tried. Why in the hell, when mothers screwed up, did it feel like they meant it?

  Josie sat Hannah down, ripped off her blazer and draped it over the girl's shoulders. Beneath her own strong fingers Hannah felt birdlike, thin and vulnerable. Josie glanced over her shoulder. Kip Rayburn was watching them. He sat on the bench outside the courtroom waiting to be called. She hadn't noticed him before. The bastard was watching them. Well, Josie would give him something to watch.

  Deliberately she got Hannah to her feet.

  "Okay, Hannah. It's game time," Josie said quietly. "Keep your arms underneath my jacket. Keep your chin up. Just look at Kip when he talks and remember, when he's done, it's over for the prosecution. I'll be there every minute for you. I promise."

  Hannah gave Josie half a smile as Josie laced Hannah's hand under her arm.

  "You care what happens to me, don't you?" Hannah asked softly.

  "Yes, Hannah, I do," Josie muttered as they walked past Kip Rayburn and into the courtroom.

  Rudy was there ready to convict Hannah. Kip was there ready to speak against her. Linda had sabotaged her daughter with her 'good intentions'. This sure wasn't going to be the best day of their lives and Rudy Klein was going to draw it out as long as he possibly could. He was saving Kip for last. Tom Winston, fireman, would kick off the day.

  "I found the defendant crouching behind a stone fountain a few feet away from the French doors of the west wing of the Rayburn home."

  "What did you do when you found her?" Rudy asked.

  "I knelt beside her. The furnace had blown inside the house. I thought I might have to shield her from debris if something else was going to blow. When the danger was past, I saw that she was injured. I escorted her away from the scene and took her for treatment."

  "Did you speak to the defendant?" Rudy asked.

  "No, I did not."

  "Did the defendant speak to you?"

  "She said, 'It's all my fault'. She kept repeating that statement. 'It's all my fault'."

  Rudy turned away leaving the witness's statement sitting on the jury's doorstep like an abandoned baby.

  "Mr. Winston." Josie stepped to the side of the table. "Did you ask the defendant what she meant by the statement?"

  "No," Tom Winston answered.

  "Thank you."

  Josie sat down. Check. Unclear. Uncertain. That was no confession. Hannah didn't even remember saying it. Josie would deal with all that in her closing arguments when it would be one of many bits of information woven into the story of the multiple mistakes and misinterpretations made in the case of Hannah Sheraton.

  Rudy called the coroner. DNA consistent with Hannah's had been found in various places in Fritz Rayburn's apartments. Hannah's hair was in the bedroom. A drop of her blood in the bathroom. Worst of all, the slightest trace of Hannah's blood was found on Fritz Rayburn's jaw where a blow had landed before he died. The coroner testified that Rayburn's head trauma also occurred before he died. Actual death was due to smoke inhalation. The body had been partially burned.

  Rudy was prepared with show and tell.

  One by one he posted pictures of a pitiful, helpless old man sprawled on the floor near his bed.

  A close-up. Waist down. Burned to a crispy critter.

  The back of Fritz's head. A contusion at the base of the skull, raw and ugly, surrounded by silky, silver hair.

  A close-up. Fritz's chin.

  Mid-range. Fritz, his hands flung out. One clutching the bedpost as if he was trying to pull himself up, one curled like a child in sleep.

  Rudy Klein was building an epic storyboard, making his case about youth and age, limits and a desire for independence, Fritz Rayburn's success and Hannah Sheraton's abject failures. Now he was drawing the lines around Rayburn's vulnerability.

  Question: Who could do this to an old man?

  Answer: A young, selfish, indulgent, neurotic girl. That's who. Youth gone dangerously awry right here in River City.

  The coroner's testimony was destructive; the pictures of Fritz were devastating.

  The spotlight turned on Josie.

  Rudy looked at her.

  Beat that.

  Josie did what she could.

  The coroner could not tell when Hannah's hair and blood had been left in Fritz Rayburn's apartments. The heat and smoke had dried out the samples.

  He had no explanation for the minute trace's of Hannah's blood on Fritz himself unless the defendant had struck the victim, splitting her own skin and leaving blood traces on his chin. Unfortunately there was no way to tell if that was what happened since the defendant's hand was burned, erasing any sign of an injury sustained in an earlier confrontation.

  Josie thanked the coroner, wishing they could let the jury go home with nothing more than memories of what had been said here. They were on the edge of a four-day weekend and that could blur even the most prudent juror's impressions. But there was more: the housekeeper. Mrs. Peterson spoke to her hands until Rudy asked her to raise her head and speak clearly.

  "I woke up at one forty-five in the morning. I sometimes have a hard time sleeping. I watch television and fall asleep in my chair."

  "Did you watch television that night?" Rudy asked.

  "Yes, but I heard something outside."

  "Outside your window?"

  She shook her head. "No, outside – down the drive. It is very quiet at night. You can hear things from blocks away."

  "What did you do?" Rudy asked.

  "I looked out my window," she responded.

  "And what did you see?"

  "Hannah running back to the house."

  "Did you see where she had run from?"

  "From beyond the trees, from the street. I heard a car right after I saw her."

  Do you think Hannah had just returned from somewhere?"

  "Objection. Speculation," Josie said.

  Judge Norris sustained the objection. Josie sent a note to Hannah.

  Who were you with?

  It was a car on the street.

  Josie slid her eyes toward Hannah. They would take up the question again after the day was won. Josie gave Rudy her undivided attention.

  "Did Hannah go back into the house?"

  "Yes."

  "Did she stay in the house?"

  "No
. I went to her room to see if she was all right. She's a nice girl. Just lonely, you know."

  "Your Honor, please," Rudy appealed to the bench.

  "The witness is instructed to answer the question."

  Mrs. Petersen nodded and chanced a glance at Hannah. She shifted in the witness seat.

  "Hannah wasn't there."

  "Did you look for her?" Rudy asked.

  "No. I knew what she was doing."

  "And what was that?"

  "Your Honor," Josie said, "calls for a conclusion."

  Rudy retraced his steps. "When was the next time you saw the defendant?"

  "Ten minutes before the fire started I saw her walking around the back of the house going toward the studio."

  "And what time was that?"

  "It was about twenty minutes before I heard Mrs. Rayburn call out that the house was on fire."

  "And the next time you saw the defendant?" Rudy asked.

  "She was near the fire truck. They had bandaged her hand."

  "Did the defendant say anything?"

  "She said, "why did it have to be like this?" and "it's my fault." She said both things."

  "Was she screaming?"

  "No. She was very calm." Mrs. Peterson glanced toward the defense table. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I'm really sorry."

  Rudy turned the woman over to Josie.

  "Mrs. Peterson, did you see Hannah get out of a car?"

  "No."

  "Had you seen anyone pick Hannah up the night in question?"

  "No.

  "Mrs. Peterson," Josie asked. "Are you a doctor?"

  She shook her head, "No, of course not."

  "Then you would have no way of knowing if Hannah Sheraton's reaction to this fire was normal given the circumstances."

  "No, I wouldn't know."

  "You wouldn't know if she was in shock, would you?"

  She shook her head again. "No, I suppose not."

  "And Mrs. Peterson, did you actually see Hannah go into the studio?"

  "No, I only saw her walking toward the studio."

  "Thank you."

  Josie sat down. While Mrs. Peterson returned to her seat Josie surreptitiously looked at Hannah. The girl's eyes were sad and blank. Her Valium lethargy was passing, though it was still evident. When Kip Rayburn was called to the stand Hannah stiffened, her eyes sought Josie's. Then, as Kip swore to tell the truth, Hannah Sheraton's eyes turned downward. She couldn't look.

  CHAPTER 19

  HOSTILE WITNESS – An adverse witness who is known to offer prejudicial evidence as a result of adverse interest or bias. – Black's Law Dictionary

  When Emily Baylor-Bates abandoned her daughter, the marine families closed rank. Josie was transferred to the home of a girl who qualified as her best friend by virtue of the fact that they had arrived in Hawaii at the same time. It took her father three days to get home and, in those three days, Josie imagined her father would blame her for driving Emily away.

  But on a warm evening, just around dinnertime, Josie's father appeared. He reached out his hand and with that one gentle gesture he made the world right, made her part of a family again.

  That wasn't the way things would play for Hannah. Kip didn't acknowledge her. Hannah listed to the left, her shoulder touching Josie's ever so slightly. She was looking up, right at Kip, telegraphing her anxiety as she knocked the table from underneath. Twenty times. Pause. Knocking again. To Josie it sounded like thunder but no one seemed to notice. Every eye was on the witness

  "Mr. Rayburn, what is your relationship to the victim?"

  "He was my father."

  "And what is your relationship to the defendant."

  "She is my wife's daughter."

  "Mr. Rayburn, are you testifying of your own free will?"

  "Yes, I am."

  Josie moved in her seat. This was a powerful salvo. Rudy did not want anyone mistaking Kip Rayburn's testimony as hostile or less truthful because he was connected to the defendant.

  "Given your relationship to the defendant, do you feel that you can answer my questions truthfully?"

  "I will answer your questions truthfully. My father believed in the sanctity of the law, and so do I."

  "Mr. Rayburn, given the circumstances, do you feel animosity toward the defendant?"

  "No, sir," Kip answered.

  Satisfied, Rudy moved another step closer to the witness.

  "Can you describe the relationship your father had with Hannah Sheraton?"

  "Objection, Your Honor. The witness cannot attest to such a relationship," Josie objected.

  "Mr. Rayburn and his wife and stepdaughter lived in the victim's home, and Justice Rayburn interacted as part of the family. Kip Rayburn can testify to the dynamic of his own household," Rudy argued.

  "I'll allow it within reason, Mr. Klein. Your objection is overruled, Ms. Bates."

  Rudy gave the bench a perfunctory nod.

  "Mr. Rayburn? Can you tell us about the relationship between your father and Hannah Sheraton?"

  "Over time, my father became very interested in Hannah's welfare. He believed that Hannah was an extraordinarily talented artist and wanted to see her reach her full potential."

  "And how did he show his interest?" Rudy asked.

  "My father spent a great deal of time with Hannah when he was home. He talked about art. He explained his collection to her. He bought her gifts to enhance her talent: books and paints, and such. He offered to take her to museums when his schedule allowed."

  "And how did the defendant react to this attention?"

  "I think Hannah enjoyed being the center of attention at first."

  "Objection," Josie called. "The witness cannot know what was in my client's mind."

  "Sustained," Judge Norris intoned.

  "Mr. Rayburn," Rudy went on. "Isn't it true that the defendant's attitude toward your father was antagonistic?"

  "Eventually Hannah became belligerent when my father was in Los Angeles. She would become angry. She told my wife she didn't want him in the house."

  "And what did you think about that?"

  "I thought it was strange considering it was our home – my father's and mine. She had only been living with us for a short time. Her attitude was appalling given how generous my father had been."

  "Did the defendant give you a reason for feeling this way?"

  "She said he watched her. He always seemed to be around. She liked her independence. She complained about many things."

  "Did Justice Rayburn do those things? I refer to watching Hannah Sheraton."

  "I'm ashamed to say he took more of an interest in her than I did. He was very attentive. Perhaps if I realized the depth of her anger toward authority figures my father would still be alive."

  "Objection, Your Honor." Josie raised her hand, disgusted with Kip's answer. He was going out of his way to point his finger at Hannah. "The witness is not the jury and can draw no such conclusion. Move to strike."

  Judge Norris ordered the strike and Kip cleared his throat. He touched his tie but didn't adjust it. There wasn't a tremor in his voice, and his eyes remained steadily on Rudy.

  "Was Justice Rayburn ever concerned for his own safety?" Rudy asked.

  Kip shook his head. "No. Never. Even though I think he should have been."

  "Why is that?"

  "I initially believed a relationship would be good for both of them. I didn't have the artist's eye that my father held in high esteem. I was happy to see he had someone to share his interest." Kip tipped his chin a little higher, his lips turned up in what passed as a smile. "I seldom saw him when he was home anymore. But Hannah was young, she needed his attention. My father understood that Hannah's mother and I were busy."

  Rudy let Kip transgress but even he couldn't ignore the sound of a beat that had, by now, become familiar to everyone in the room. The upper part of Hannah's arms rested against the tabletop. Underneath her clasped hands hi
t up on the wood, working diligently as if she could break through it and find her freedom. Her hair had spilled over her shoulders; her eyes were trained on Kip. Anger radiated off her. Josie could feel it, hoped the jury wouldn't sense it.

  Kip ignored Hannah and the sounds but every now and again, a small muscle in Rudy's neck spasmed in sync with the knocking. Judge Norris shifted on the bench, unhappy with the distraction. Josie slipped her hand under the table, putting it between Hannah's fists and the wood. Without missing a beat, Hannah hit Josie and Josie took the blows on her warm, soft palm.

  "When did you first notice the relationship between your father and the defendant change?" Rudy filled the silence quickly, unwilling to be distracted.

  "Hannah had been with us almost a year. It was summer. She started to be disrespectful to my father. She was rude. She preferred staying in the room she used as her painting studio. Hannah went out and stayed out late if she wasn't painting. There was an older boy who did not go to school. Hannah started seeing him. He was unkempt. He looked like a transient."

  "And what was your father's reaction to Hannah's behavior?"

  "He told me not to worry. He told me she would settle down."

  "Did something happen to change your father's mind?"

  He found Hannah and this man in his bedroom. They had been drinking. My father had come back unexpectedly from San Francisco. They had gone through his things. Hannah had an antique pocketknife my father treasured. She held the knife on him long enough for the man to run away. I wanted to call the police but my father didn't want to press charges. He was extremely concerned about her at that point. He took it upon himself to help her. My father cared very deeply what happened to Hannah."

  Josie listened carefully, and was suddenly aware that Hannah had stopped knocking. Josie cast a quick glance her way, sensing a rising anxiety in Hannah. She was reassured to see the girl sitting quietly, moving a pencil through her fingers under the table. When she stayed silent, Josie clasped her hands and leaned toward the witness as Rudy continued.

  "How did your father help the defendant?"

  "He spent even more time with Hannah. My father arranged and paid for treatment. He sent her to some of the finest rehabilitation facilities available. My father was extraordinarily compassionate. I'd never seen him that concerned about a child – any child." Kip's voice caught. It was as if his childhood was suddenly coming into focus. He put his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. He apologized, "Sorry."