The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  She threw a handful of shredded chicken into the pan then reached for a huge jar of cumin.

  "He didn't pay attention. I could have been the dog for all he knew. I stayed out of his way and he stayed out of his father's way much as he could. Those two were a mess," she said as she stirred the peppers. "If the old man liked it, Kip hated it. If Kip loved it, the old man hated it. It didn't matter what it was. Me, a piece of meat, the color of the wallpaper," she shrugged. "The only difference between those two was that Kip just hated what his father loved. The old man destroyed whatever his son loved."

  Rosa heaped the chicken and peppers onto tortillas, folded them and doused them with green sauce. She looked at Josie and gave her a lopsided grin.

  "It's a good thing Kip didn't love me, huh?"

  CHAPTER 28

  It was dark, not late, when Archer pulled up to Josie's place. Josie's head was back, her eyes closed. It looked like she was asleep, but she was thinking about Rayburn's M.O. His preference was clear. Dependent girls. Women of color. Young. Each of them accepting Fritz as just a scummy part of life. All of them had a lot to lose: mothers, careers. All of them assumed they couldn't fight back. All except Hannah who was just that much more flawed than the rest, and that made her even less believable.

  "We're home, Jo." Archer said.

  "Thanks, babe," Josie whispered. "We did good today."

  Archer took Josie's duffle out of the back.

  "You coming in?" she asked.

  "Am I still on the clock?"

  Josie shrugged. "What if I said no?"

  "Then I'm coming in."

  Archer carried her bag, one arm slung over her shoulder. Josie picked up the mail, opened the door, and flipped on a light. Max ambled out of the back room. Archer petted him and let him out into the backyard, leaving the French doors open.

  Josie filled his dish with food, replaced the dog's water. It was good to be home. She put the coffee on. Archer had wandered into the dining room and was looking at her mother's plates.

  "I like these." He pointed to the wall.

  "You say that every time you look at them," Josie laughed.

  Josie liked them, too. Her mother's hula girl plates were her prized possession, two intact and one broken. Years ago Josie's father had dropped the plate while packing away Emily's things. When he was asleep, Josie opened the packing boxes and took the two plates. She retrieved the broken one from the trashcan and hid all three in her room. They were the first things Josie hung in her home. She could still see the crack that dissected one of the hula girls. Josie once thought she kept those kitschy plates because one day her mother would come back and be grateful. Now Josie knew she kept them to remind her that broken things can be mended, but there is always a scar.

  Archer moseyed toward the living room; Max wandered back in. All was right with the world for now. Josie poured two cups of coffee, handing one off as she passed Archer.

  "What are you going to do, Jo?" Archer asked.

  "I'm thinking about breaking this down into two phases. First one is the assault on Rayburn. I'd put Rosa on the stand in a heartbeat. She's sympathetic. Rudy won't break her down. I'd like to find someone else who would corroborate in court." Josie took a drink, staring at the floor while she thought. "On the arson, I'm going to go with the doctors. Hannah couldn't have burned her studio. The defense is clear, and understandable, if I break it down that way."

  "That jury is going to want another option on the arson."

  "Then we go after Kip. He's the likely option. Something Rosa said puts me in the right frame of mind to look more closely at him. He's not the passive fool I thought he was. He proved it in court. There's a lot of anger there. I want to know what Kip and his father fought about. If it was Linda, Hannah, or business like he said."

  Josie's words trailed off as she noticed the blinking light on her answering machine. She pressed play out of habit and took a minute to collect her thoughts. The first message was Ian Frank's secretary. Yes, Mr. Frank would meet with Josie in the morning, nine sharp.

  "Want me to go with you?" Archer asked. "Might be good to have someone else listen in on what Rayburn's old partner has to say."

  "No. I'll see him on my own. You check out. . ."

  The machine was talking again. It was Hannah asking if Josie was okay. Counting. Counting softly but Josie could hear it. Asking Josie to call when she could. Then something muffled. The phone clattered and the line went dead.

  Josie stopped the machine and picked up the phone. She dialed the Malibu house.

  "She doesn't sound good," Archer muttered and then fell silent. "Nothing?"

  Josie shook her head. She disconnected.

  Archer checked his watch, "She's probably on her walk."

  "Probably," she mumbled but Josie was unsettled. Josie punched the answering machine again hoping the next message was Hannah calling back, surprised to find it was Linda. She had tired of waiting at the house and was at Borelli's restaurant. She wanted to see Josie. Please.

  "Please?" Archer looked surprised.

  "Please," Josie reiterated with a grin.

  "Want me to go with you, Jo?"

  "Sure." Josie disappeared into the bedroom. She tossed her duffle on the bed and came back to the living room with her leather jacket on. "I guess Hannah must be with her."

  "Suppose so," Archer answered as they parted on the doorstep. Josie wanted to walk and clear the tequila out of her head. Archer garaged the Hummer. They met at Borrelli's front door within a minute of each other.

  Linda was waiting in the bar at a table for two, dressed all in black from the tips of her Italian boots to the last coat of mascara on her lashes. She started to smile when she saw Josie but lost it when she figured out the man who opened the door was part of the package.

  "Linda?" Josie greeted her.

  "Who's this?" Linda eyed Archer.

  "Archer. Linda Rayburn. He's working with me on Hannah's case."

  Linda nodded. Archer checked her out then made his excuses. He would wait at the bar; the two women would talk.

  "Do you want something?" Linda lifted her cocktail when they were alone.

  "Yeah. I'd like to know where Hannah is." Josie took a seat.

  "She's at home," Linda said, peeved that she wasn't directing the conversation. "I meant did you want something to drink?"

  "No, thanks and I'm not sure Hannah is at home. I just called. There was no answer."

  Linda waved away the concern.

  "She's probably out doing her walking thing. You know how it goes. Couple times around the house. Some weird dancing on the sand. Back in the house. Back outside again. I wouldn't worry about it."

  Josie took a deep breath. She put her elbows on the table and raised her hands, clasping them under her chin.

  "But I do worry, Linda. If you're not with Hannah, and I can't reach her, you are defying a court order. Judge Norris didn't say to take Hannah home and lock her in. He said that you were supposed to supervise her."

  "He didn't mean twenty-four hours a day." Linda complained.

  "Yes, he did."

  "Well, that's ridiculous. She's in the middle of nowhere without a car. You know, there are things I absolutely have to do and that's just the way it is."

  "Like what? Sneaking out to see your husband?"

  Linda stiffened and grabbed her glass. She drank deep and then hesitated. Slowly the glass came down. She put it on the table and kept her eyes on it for a minute as if suddenly realizing it wasn't the answer to anything.

  "No. Like walking away to see a friend," Linda said quietly.

  "Christ, Linda," Josie breathed.

  "No. I mean it. Don't sound like that. This isn't some kind of game," Linda insisted, uncomfortable with her confession. "Look, I don't know about you but not a lot has changed since college. We were never very good at making friends."

  "I was too busy studying," Josie reminded her.

>   "I was too busy chasing after the next guy," Linda said. "Now I'm alone. I've never been alone before. Kip hasn't called. He won't come to see me. All the women I used to know are steering clear until they see how this plays out. Jesus, Josie, I'm not made of stone. I needed someone to talk to."

  "It's not like you to feel sorry for yourself," Josie said.

  "I'm not. I'm lonely, Josie, and I've been that way for a long time."

  "Then just imagine how Hannah feels."

  Linda sighed and closed her eyes; her free hand went to her forehead.

  "I've spent a lifetime imagining how Hannah feels." The hand came down. Linda looked bleary eyed and sad, but Josie imagined it was the liquor. This may be the first time she had ever seen Linda Rayburn drunk. "Don't you think I know exactly what kind of mother I've been? I was too young to have a baby and I made Hannah grow up too fast. Maybe I thought she was going to be my built in friend. I didn't know how to be a mother. You were the smart one. You never had a kid. Women like us shouldn't have children."

  The glass was up again. Josie watched her drink, unsure of what to say. She had been ready for a fight, ready to defend her strategy. She was off her stride now that Linda had asked for her friendship.

  "You want to know something?" Linda leaned across the table. "I thought raising Hannah was about feeding her and putting clothes on her back until she was eighteen. But it's more than that. It wasn't until this happened that I realized I really loved my girl. I really, really do and that's the real hard part."

  "Then why are you fighting to sell her out, Linda?" Josie interrupted. "Why are you taking chances with her freedom now? You're not stupid. You know Norris wanted you with Hannah twenty-four seven. Do you want her to go back in prison?"

  "Who's going to tell Norris that I took a little R & R? You? I don't think so." Linda sighed. "See, that is the funny thing. You like Hannah better than you like me, so you're willing to protect her more than me. That's not right. You were my friend first. Maybe I need you now."

  "Don't do that, Linda. Don't use people, especially not Hannah," Josie said wearily. "It isn't about who I like or don't like, it's about the rules."

  "I'm tired of rules," Linda cried, her eyes filling up again. "You don't know what it's been like. Every time I try to play by rules I get smashed into the ground. You know, I really loved Hannah's father and I tried to be good for him. Where did it get me? Beaten up and kicked around. So then I started sleeping around and having some fun and you know what it got me? Good times, nice things, money, beaten up, and kicked around. Then I met Kip and you know what that got me? Every damn thing I ever wanted: someone who needed me, nice things, and a good home for me and my kid. He loved me back. He needed me."

  Linda motioned for another drink. The bartender nodded. Josie caught Archer's eye for an instant, and Josie knew how lucky she was. They were silent as Linda was served, the empty glass taken away. Linda held onto it.

  "Now it's all going away. Kip doesn't live with me. The Governor isn't sure if he wants to appoint him to the bench. You're running around trying to prove Fritz was a sick son of a bitch. And he was. I don't doubt he was. But Jesus, Josie, it's over. He's dead. He's dead and everything was going to be okay until you did that to Kip. God, Josie, don't you see. What you do to him, or to Hannah, you do to me. I thought we were friends. I really need you to be my friend."

  "I am your friend. I'm trying to save your daughter."

  "How? By sacrificing my husband?"

  "If that's what it takes. If that's where the truth is."

  "You don't care what the truth is." Linda's fist pounded lightly on the table. The little candle flickered and jumped. "You just want to prove you can get Hannah off the way you got that other woman off. You didn't care what the truth was then either."

  Linda turned her head but Archer was right there, boxing her in. She didn't like the direct hit of his gaze so she swung her head back in time to see a shadow cross Josie's face.

  Linda picked up her cigarettes and tapped one out. She tried her lighter but it wouldn't catch. Opening her purse she pulled out a box of matches. The flame flared, illuminating the middle of her face. She blew out the flame, tossed the match into the ashtray and pulled in the smoke hard, letting it out at her leisure. Her head was back, her hair hung past her shoulders. The smoke wafted toward the ceiling. She watched the smoke, Josie watched her. It was illegal to smoke in a restaurant in Los Angeles County. No one stopped her. No one ever stopped a beautiful woman from doing anything.

  "You're not sure about Hannah, are you?" Linda chuckled, but it was an ugly sound. "Oh, God, all this time I'm thinking I'm a little off here, but it's you. You started something you're going to finish, no matter who you hurt, and still you're not sure that Hannah didn't do it."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "No, no," Linda insisted, pushing across the table, her cigarette held high. "You've been thinking what I've been thinking. What if you're wrong about Hannah and she's like that woman you got off. The one who killed her kids after you defended her."

  "This is nothing like that. Nothing," Josie insisted.

  Linda ground out her cigarette.

  "Maybe it is. Maybe Hannah's got you fooled the same way that lady did. Maybe you're going to screw up Kip's life and mine and send Hannah home and. . ."

  Josie got up. Her chair toppled. She reached back to get it. Linda's eyes narrowed. Her jaw tightened. She grabbed for Josie. Her face tipped up, her long neck looked like alabaster in the dim light, her eyes like jewels. "For once in your life, think about other people instead of what you want."

  "No one else matters but Hannah," Josie said in a whisper. "Why isn't that crystal clear to you?"

  "Because life is more complicated than that, and you know it better than anyone." Linda pushed her case, her fingers digging into Josie's arm. Linda was a strong woman. "You had tunnel vision with that Davis woman, too. That woman wasn't what she said she was. You got her off, and then she turned around and killed her children. I saw some pictures. Those children looked like sleeping angels, didn't they? All covered up with white sheets, their arms crossed over their chests. Their hair so light against the pillows"

  Josie yanked away but Linda spoke in a frantic whisper. Her voice mesmerized Josie.

  "And when they pulled those sheets back those little children had no bodies, did they Josie? Their mother had slit them open and taken everything out just to see if she could. No other reason."

  "I don't need to hear this. It has nothing to do with Hannah," Josie shot back.

  "It has everything to do with Hannah, and me, and Kip," Linda growled, half rising. "Only this time it could be the daughter doing it to the mother. That woman used a knife to do her dirty work. Hannah lit a fire. In the end it's all the same, though, isn't it? People die horrible, gruesome deaths because there are horribly, sick people out there who aren't held accountable."

  Josie was listening but all she could see was Linda's lips curling around words she couldn't understand.

  "I guess what I want to know is why haven't you learned anything, Josie? Why don't you err on the side of caution? Do you want to see me like Fritz? Do you want to see my legs burned black and know my lungs were seared. . ."

  "It would never happen."

  Josie straightened. She could feel Archer watching her, ready to come to her rescue. But who could rescue her from memories, possibilities, and visions?

  "Don't ruin me, Josie. Don't ruin my family. Don't make a mistake that might harm all of us. Send Hannah where she belongs. Get her help, Josie. Help me."

  Josie closed her eyes, trying to banish the thought that Linda could be right. Her knees were weak, her breathing shallow. Maybe it wasn't Hannah who needed defending, but those around her. Josie opened her eyes, suddenly exhausted. Her lips parted but no sound came out. Linda, was looking at her, purse in hand, ready to leave, but needing to share one last thought.

  "None of us really know
s what the right thing to do is, Josie. I just came here tonight because I needed a friend. I guess I didn't find one. If you get Hannah off you're playing with my life. If you keep pointing at Kip you're playing with his, and still you don't know if Hannah is really innocent. Could you live with yourself if you bet wrong twice, and you were responsible for letting another killer go?"

  "This isn't the same, Linda. This isn't the same at all."

  Josie put her fingertips to her temple. Her head hurt. It was the tequila. Or maybe it was the worry over Hannah. No, it was Linda. Linda was conjuring up ghosts that did more than haunt Josie. They feasted on her heart and soul; they made her question her motives and her judgment.

  "Sure it's the same," Linda whispered urgently. "Maybe you can't see it, but I can because I'm the one that has to sleep in that house and now I'm alone there with Hannah. I have to wonder every night when I go to bed if I'm going to wake up. I'm scared, Josie. I'm not asking you to throw the trial. I'm not asking you to forgive my mistakes as a mother, but I shouldn't have to wonder if I'm going to die because of them."

  "Stop it, Linda." Josie dropped her hand. She wasn't going to be seduced by this woman's speculations or threats. "You're not afraid of anything. You never have been."

  "Okay, Josie." Linda was resigned. "Think what you want. If anything happens, you won't have anyone to blame but yourself. And when it does, you won't have anyone to live with but yourself. Maybe that's the saddest thing of all."

  Linda left Josie standing alone at the table. Archer pulled out her chair. She sat down.

  "Take a minute, Jo." He slid into the chair Linda had just left. "She doesn't leave it very warm."

  Josie's eyes flickered up and then away. Finally she leveled her gaze and looked right into Archer's eyes.

  "Could I be wrong about Hannah?" she asked.

  "Yeah. You could be."

  "Do you think I am?"

  He shook his head. "Rayburn hurt her bad. Maybe she snapped. I don't know. I guess it's a matter of faith."

  "I don't have any of that, Archer."

  "It's okay. I do," he answered.