The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  Archer's eyes slid toward her. In the dim light his bruised face looked evil. Josie wondered what she would hear if she didn't fill the quiet. What she heard was Archer speculating.

  "Is that what they're saying, Jo? Are they saying I killed Tim because I thought I was going to share in some big payday?" Archer let his head roll to the side. He let out a sound that seemed like a laugh, a moan, and an utterance of disbelief all in one. "Christ. That's a damned stupid motive."

  His sigh of disgust pulled out like taffy until it was so thin Josie hardly heard it anymore. She dropped her eyes. Archer swept the bottle of beer up again and found it empty. He let it dangle from his fingers. The kitchen clock ticked. Music came from Hannah's room – something dark – drums that put an irregular heartbeat into the house.

  "You know, Jo, maybe Tim's accident was a blessing. With him gone, Lexi could deal with her own dying." Archer put a big hand over his eyes and drew it down his face as if that gesture helped him come to grips with the past. "Lexi wouldn't have survived as long as she did if she had to worry about what was going to happen to Tim. She needed her strength. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing that he died. Not a bad thing in the end."

  Josie's stomach turned. No matter how much Archer valued Lexi's life, to say Tim's death was a blessing – even to Josie – was incautious at best and damning at worst.

  She pushed back her chair and stood abruptly. She stacked the dinner plates, keeping her head turned away so Archer couldn't see the stain of doubt in her eyes. In the kitchen Josie put her hand on the faucet and said:

  "Don't say that ever again, Archer. Not to me. Not to anyone."

  Josie rinsed the dishes and put them aside only to stop half way through her chore. Her hands cupped the lip of the sink. She hung her head and hunched her shoulders. That tape was an albatross around her neck; Archer's comments were tightening the noose that held it.

  Suddenly, Archer's arms were around her waist. He pulled her close. Josie wasn't sure she wanted that but she also knew she was powerless against him. Instinctively Josie leaned against him, her hands covering his. It still felt so right.

  "We'll be okay." Archer buried his lips in the small space behind her ear. His chest rose and fell against her back. Archer was steady as an innocent man would be. She believed in him, but it was easy to doubt. His lips moved to her brow and back to the fringe of hair near her ear. "Once we hear what the DA has I'll call in every marker I've got. I'll make this go away. I promise, Jo."

  Josie turned in his arms. She put her hands flat on his chest. It was enough to make him back off. Josie's life hadn't been easy; Archer had fought through a couple of hells himself, so she didn't believe all would be well because Archer said it would be. Life didn't work that way. Not for people like them.

  "Save the markers, Archer. You're not going to be tracking down anything."

  "That doesn't seem too smart, Josie," Archer said quietly. "This is what I was trained to do. I promise I won't mess around anymore. No more tailing anyone, no more confrontation. Straight out questions, Jo. Above board investigation."

  Josie slipped away. Confused, Archer followed her into the living room. She reached for her purse, holding it close before she pulled out the video.

  "You can't chase down what they've already got. The DA doesn't want you intimidating witnesses and, if McIntyre chooses, he can make a whole lot of trouble for us by filing a harassment complaint. Jesus, Archer, if you had just waited for me to come home before you pulled a stunt like that I could have told you it was dangerous to try to run down witnesses."

  "Lord, Jo, what witnesses? To what crime? There was no crime." Archer threw up his hands. Their quiet time was gone. Their rope bridge was swaying under their feet and only Josie saw that it was already beginning to unravel.

  "There is a list of them, Archer." Josie hunkered down and slipped the tape into the deck. Her fingers hovered above the button. She spoke just before she pushed it. "You're in a whole lot more trouble than you know."

  The show started. The light from the television illuminated Josie's face but not the corner where Archer stood watching. Slowly he came forward. He was close enough now that she could have leaned back against his legs. She heard him catch his breath as he saw Lexi. Another intake as Tim fell.

  "Again," Archer whispered when it was over.

  "Archer, you don't have to. . ."

  "I said play it again. I want to see it again," Archer commanded.

  Josie replayed the tape. This time she didn't watch. Instead she looked over her shoulder and up at Archer. His eyes glittered; his body was rigid. When he spoke his lips barely moved.

  "They're going to use that piece of shit against me?"

  "The ride operator says you put Tim into his harness." Josie looked up at him. "Did you, Archer?"

  "Yes. I did. And if anyone bothered to ask me I would have told them that Tim was strong as an ox and big for his age. He could be belligerent and impatient and dangerous when he thrashed around. I wasn't going to trust some kid with Tim. I was doing the right thing, and you're telling me that operator said I sabotaged the damn harness?"

  Josie stood up, eye to eye with Archer.

  "Calm down," she ordered. "I won't know until I talk to him. Luckily he won't be too hard to find since he still works at Pacific Park. At least I got that much out of Ruth Alcott."

  "Well, we'll just get a whole lot more from that lying little sack of. . ."

  Archer stopped short. Josie looked at him quizzically and then felt it, too. There was a vibe in the dark room. They weren't alone. Both of them turned and both of them saw Hannah. A shadowy slip of a girl whose presence was invasive, whose existence they had forgotten. The look she gave Archer trailed suspicion and anger with it. When her eyes moved to Josie questions and curiosity came along.

  "I needed some help with my English." It was a request that shut out Archer.

  "Okay." Josie busied herself, ejecting the tape, getting up and turning on the light near the couch. She wondered how much Hannah had seen.

  "I'm going." Archer hesitated as he drew alongside Josie. "And I am going to help. My life, my case, babe."

  "No, Archer. Your problem, my case," Josie answered evenly. She included Hannah in the next sentence. They were a family – they were supposed to be a family. "You can help by getting Hannah to school in the morning. You can keep track of the information the DA is going to drop on my doorstep. That's how high your profile is going to be on this thing."

  Archer glanced at Hannah and back to Josie, clearly unhappy but equally clear that he wasn't going to spend any time arguing about it in front of the girl who cut into his time. She wasn't a part of them and Archer would never let her be.

  "Right." The word seeped out through his swollen lip. "I'll pick her up at seven thirty."

  The door closed behind him. Josie and Hannah weren't really alone. Archer hadn't really gone. His antagonism and bitterness lingered.

  "It isn't you, Hannah. It's the whole situation," Josie explained but neither of them believed it.

  In a split second Hannah was out the door. Josie followed, hovering near the gate when she saw Hannah had caught up with Archer fifty yards down. They were bathed in the yellow light of the city fixture. Hannah had hold of Archer's arm with one hand. Her face was tipped up, the breeze pushed her long curls in her face and she pushed them back with her free hand. They were too far for Josie to hear what Hannah was saying but she could see that Archer was listening. When she was finished, Hannah stepped back and, without a word, Archer continued on his way.

  Gratitude tugged at her heart as Hannah strolled back, oblivious to Josie's scrutiny. Her fingers tapped the top of the low wall Josie had built around her house. Tapping twenty times as she indulged in her counting, thinking she was alone until she was brought up short by the sight of Josie. They considered one another. Josie smiled.

  "Thanks for whatever you said to Archer," Josie said.

 
One finger tapped against the stucco wall. Hannah's head was doing that cocky thing that warns adults to back off because they may not want to hear what's coming next. But Josie couldn't read the signal. She was too new at the mother thing.

  "I was just telling him he didn't have to pick me up in the morning. I'm going to walk to school." There was a split second before she finished cruelly the way teenagers can. "I didn't want to be in a car with him just in case he could have killed a boy who couldn't defend himself."

  The edges of Hannah's lips twitched, her eyes were unreadable. When she had given Josie enough time, when she found Josie's confusion annoying, Hannah went past her. The perfume of youth trailed her and suddenly Josie felt old without being wise. Hannah turned around at the front door, giving Josie one more chance to demand an apology or an explanation. When it didn't come Hannah put a hand on her hip, pressed her luck and dared Josie to get in her face, choose Archer over her.

  "Are you still going to help me with my homework?"

  CHAPTER 13

  Very few things surprised Josie Baylor-Bates. To be precise, there were very few things Josie reacted to with surprise. Bad news, strange things, coincidences, accidents – she seemed to take these all in stride. Even accepting responsibility for Hannah had been handled matter-of-factly. It was understandable that Josie believed the cure for her empty heart was in proving that she was nothing like her mother, that she was as capable as her father.

  Her unflappable sense of right and wrong, the belief that she could handle anything were the things that drew people to Josie. But her composure faltered when she saw Wilson Page.

  Josie had seen fat, she had seen portly and she had seen big-boned. Josie had even seen obese, but she had never seen anything like Wilson Page. A good five inches shorter than Josie, he carried four hundred pounds on a frame put together like an erector set. Wilson was made up of right angles, blocks upon bulges. Legs, torso, arms, neck and head. His range of motion was limited to up and down since 'around' didn't seem to register with Wilson Page's joints. The hand that grasped Josie's was like a baseball mitt. Josie, who could palm a volleyball, felt almost childlike as he closed his fingers around hers. He spoke with a sharp intake of breath every third word.

  "How are you?"

  Breath.

  "Nice to meetcha."

  Breath.

  "Have a seat."

  Breath.

  "Over there. No. . ."

  Breath, breath.

  ". . . there."

  He directed Josie to a couch and then a chair and finally settled her back on the couch with a flick of a sausage-like finger. When she sat, Josie sank into a very distinct pothole in the upholstery. Wilson, it seemed, had a preference when he sat on the couch because Jude, watching with amusement, sat a good three inches higher than Josie.

  Wilson settled in a huge chair, custom made so that it kept him at the proper angle to maximize his breathing. Still the top half of him pushed down on the bottom half until, neck to groin, he was an accordion roll of flesh. His massive torso filled up the chair, his legs stuck out straight on a footrest.

  "So." Wilson's voice was exceedingly pleasant, his delivery smooth now that he did not have to move. "Jude, whatcha say? Time to tell the tale? I mean you want me to tell, right? This is a lady who's interested in Pacific Park, right?"

  Jude smiled at Wilson the way an old friend does, a friend who sees past the obvious, finding something inside Wilson Page to admire. Josie found that expression far more attractive than Jude's blinding grin.

  "Jump in, Wilson. Josie? You all here?"

  "Yeah, sorry. I was just. . .daydreaming."

  "That's all right," Wilson chuckled. "We know what you were doing. You were trying to figure this out, weren't you? Jude and me. Beauty and the Beast. Jaba the Hut and Hans Solo, Orson Wells and . . . "

  "Oh, God, Wilson. Please," Jude groaned. "Enough."

  Josie watched, she listened, she wondered what secrets lay buried behind Jude's pretty face and winning ways, she wondered how they matched the maze of hurt encased in Wilson's massive body. She had felt their closeness the minute she walked through the door and she felt something else too – a whiff of loving resentment. Josie just couldn't tell if it came from Wilson or Jude.

  "Okay, I'm curious. I doubt you two play racquetball at the club," Josie said.

  Wilson laughed and said 'that's a good one', before he told his story with relish.

  "Jude's hard drive went down the night before a big case. Meant a ton of money to you, didn't it, Jude?"

  Breath.

  "So Jude starts calling around at two in the morning trying to find some place that will fix the thing because all his exhibits are on it. He gets me. . . "

  Breath.

  ". . . I tell him I'll fix it. He's talking, and trying to cut a deal on the cost like he thinks I'm not going to be honest and I tell him it will cost what it costs. So he brings it right over here. Poor Jude thought he'd pass out when he saw me. He's holding his computer like he's afraid to give it to me. Maybe he thought I'd eat it and him, too."

  Breath. Chuckle. Breath.

  "Come on, Wilson," Jude said affectionately. "Everyone is surprised when they first meet you. That computer had sensitive information on it and the way you work does not exactly inspire confidence. I mean look at this place."

  Wilson's big head lolled in agreement. This time the breath was drawn through his nose.

  "Point well taken, Jude. To make a long story short, he gave me the computer. I recovered the files on the hard disc, and in the process, found it had been tampered with. Someone on his staff did not hold Jude in high esteem and had tried to ruin Jude's very hard work."

  "To make a long story even shorter, that person was let go and Wilson and I became friends," Jude cut in. "Now, can we please get to the matter at hand?"

  "But," Wilson held up his hand as if to request a point of clarification, "we didn't become real friends until Jude got the bill. He was so impressed I didn't take advantage on the back end that he put me on retainer. It's been good years with you, Jude. Nobody finer, Ms. Bates. I don't care what anyone says about this plaintiff's attorney. He's the finest man. Whenever I need anything he. . ."

  Breath.

  "And if you don't stop Wilson he'll talk your ear off. Time is money, Wilson." Jude cut in quickly.

  Josie's lips twitched as she saw the color rising in Jude's cheeks. Could it be she was seeing the soft underbelly of a shark? Fascinating that the most vulnerable spot would show itself for this lump of a man. The science of attraction, friendship and affection was mysterious. Josie thought of Archer and missed him and loved him. Then she forgot him. Time was short. Jude was anxious and Wilson felt it.

  "Fine. Fine. Well, enough of that. On to bigger, more important things." Wilson licked his lips then drew three fingers over them as if adjusting his mouth so the words would come out right. Finally, he folded his hands together and rested them on his massive belly. "Don't you worry Ms. Bates, I'm not going to let those people railroad your client."

  "Wilson has issues with Pacific Park. Little did I know that would come in handy some day," Jude informed her.

  "It wasn't always that way, though. I loved Pacific Park at one time because it was so different from all those corporate monstrosities. Pacific Park was user friendly, or it was until they decided they didn't like me anymore. You see, I was large as a child. Then I got to be bigger and when I was eighteen – it was eighteen, right, Jude?"

  "That's what you told me, my man." Jude nodded comfortably. "Eighteen."

  "Yes. . . that was. . . . let's see?" Wilson put one huge finger to the place in his face where his chin should be. "That was, oh, now, six years and two months ago. I could tell you how many hours and minutes if you want, but I don't think it's relevant. Jude?"

  Jude shook his head. That was all it took for Wilson to move on.

  "Well, anyway. . ." breath, ". . .okay. So you do
n't need the absolute specifics. Just generalities. You want me to get to the point. Okay."

  This time two deep ones that sounded shallow, like they never quite made it to the bottom lobes of his lungs. Josie tried not to look worried since Jude looked concerned enough for both of them.

  "I used to go to the park two, three times a week," he said, smiling with the memories. "Wonderful to get out, get some fresh air, some exercise. Walking from ride to ride is good exercise for a big man like me. Even standing in line burns calories when you carry some extra weight."

  "Wilson, can you fast forward a little?" Jude prodded gently and sidestepped the obvious understatement.

  "Sure. Jude. Sure. No problem. Went to the park. To the park," Wilson whispered, sucking a bit of oxygen through his teeth as he tried to find his place. When he got it, his small bright eyes focused on Josie. "I was there one very nice day. I stood in line forty-seven minutes and thirty two seconds before it was my turn for the Hanging Glide. I'd been there all day and been on all the rides except the Hanging Glide."

  Deep breath.

  "Well, the ride operator insisted the Hanging Glide would not hold me, but she was wrong. I knew the weight capacity of every ride in that place. The Hanging Glide handles a maximum weight of three hundred and sixty-three pounds. At the time, I was three hundred and fifty-eight and three quarters of a pound. I explained that to the operator."

  Breath. Breath. Breath.

  "Wilson went to Cal Tech when he was fourteen. He knows whereof he speaks."

  Jude slipped that little bit of information into the conversation, covering for Wilson until he could go on.

  "Thank you, Jude. I do, as you say, know my stuff." Wilson inclined his head graciously. "Always have. And, I had made it my very serious hobby to catalogue and understand each and every thrill ride at the Park. I understood the engineering limitations, minimum and maximum safety parameters regarding weight, height, G-force stress. There was absolutely no danger to me or other riders if I were to be strapped into the Hanging Glide. Not to mention the fact that it was illegal for her to refuse me if she did not weigh me. There were no public warnings; no signs that indicated the ride operator had that discretion based on her unqualified assessment of my weight. There was, of course, proper and legal signage that indicated service could be refused based on height. You see, height is a completely different matter than weight as evidenced by the warnings. . ."