The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  "I'm just saying that they have holes in their operation. If they've got holes in that, then there are holes in other things – like their case against me. Or hadn't you thought of that?"

  "Gee, no, Archer. And I hadn't thought that beating up a kid with a high school education was going to prove anything." Josie taunted him, furious that he would betray her. She had vouched for him. She had promised to return. She was standing up for him, and he was spitting on her.

  "I wasn't. . . going to. . . . hurt him."

  Archer grabbed the back of a chair and yanked it away from the table. Raising it he brought the back legs down hard on the floor and turned his head away from her before whipping himself around to sit down. For a minute he jerked this way and that, wrapped in a seizure of exasperation until, tired and humiliated, Archer put his elbows on the table and bent his head.

  "He's not a kid. He's twenty, maybe older."

  "He's a kid who didn't know what hit him," Josie said under her breath. "He works at a theme park and thinks that's a profession, Archer. You've got thirty years on him and fifty pounds. Come on. No contest."

  "And he's telling the DA that I screwed with Tim's harness," Archer said. "I just wanted him to admit he lied but he wouldn't even look at me. I just wanted him to see what he was doing to my life. Then he wouldn't and I don't know what happened. I was just going to make him tell the god damn truth."

  Archer threw himself back, defeated. His arms fell to his sides and his broad chest seemed to cave under the pressure of the day. Josie pushed away from the wall; the fight was gone out of her, too. She sat in the chair next to him. Between them was a curtain of antipathy so tightly woven she couldn't have reached through it if she wanted to.

  "Nothing he told you tonight would have mattered, Archer. There were no witnesses to anything except assault. Even if he said you jumped off the ride and tried to save Tim I couldn't have used it in court. All you've done is dig yourself a deeper hole." She let that hang there so Archer could admire his handiwork. Finally, when Josie couldn't help herself, when the question in her brain began to burn, she asked it.

  "What were you going to do? Beat him until he told you what you wanted to hear whether it was the truth or not?"

  Archer cast a look her way that was so ugly it was hard to imagine she even knew him. The raised welt above his eye was still red and raw. It reminded Josie that there were people who thought he was a killer; there were grown men who were afraid of him. That look faded as Archer's face crumbled in a pain so deep it had no end.

  "You know me better than that," Archer rasped.

  "I knew a steady man," Josie responded. "I know a man who was patient when I was trying to make a new life for myself. I know a man who stood by me when I was fighting for Hannah's life and never once raised his voice much less his hand. I know a man who used to bide his time, face the truth, act without prejudice. That's the man I know."

  "Come on, Josie, that's who I am and you know it!"

  Archer shot out of his chair, half standing as he grabbed for her, grasped her, his hands tight on her lean arms as he lifted her toward him. Their faces were close, inches from one another. He was crimson with rage; she was white with shock. In a crackling minute Archer realized what he was doing, froze and slowly fell back into his chair. The hands that had held Josie shook as he let her go and he wrapped his arms around his own body, fearful of what he might do to her.

  "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He raised one hand and buried his face in it. "I am so scared, Jo."

  Josie's gut wrenched. She had seen angry men, men who accepted their fate, men who fooled themselves and refused to accept the obvious but she had never seen a broken man. To see Archer broken was brutal. This was God's miserable joke. He had given Josie someone to love then made her watch as He took away everything she found honorable in Archer.

  "I don't know who you are, Archer. You lied to me about everything." Josie raised her head, lifted a hand up as if to ward off the pain an objection would cause. "Selective truth telling doesn't amount to much in a relationship and in the courtroom it will hang you."

  Archer's eyes narrowed. There was little left to see in them but bitterness.

  "You don't know shit, Jo. You've never even seen a real death. Your mother took off and you don't even know if she's alive."

  "Jesus," Josie breathed, "Archer. . ."

  "Your father was laid out all nice in that hospital by the time you got there wasn't he? I watched my wife writhing in pain through the stupor of medicine that was supposed to stop it and never did. I saw her son broken on the ground, his head open and his body parts all twisted. People were screaming and crying all around. Is that the kind of shit you wanted me to be truthful about? Is that the crap you wanted me to share with you? Well, okay, babe. Let's share."

  Archer's voice dripped with sarcasm and Josie's response came back small, shaken, and unsure.

  "I understand. . ."

  Archer hesitated but he couldn't help himself. He was as frightened as a cornered animal, desperate to get back to his lair even if he had to kill to do it – even if what he was killing was Josie's love for him.

  "No you don't understand!" His hands slammed into the table. He was out of his chair again and out of his mind. "You don't understand how all of this haunted me. You don't understand that I'm afraid, and I don't know where to turn and I can't turn to you because I don't want you to see what I've seen."

  Suddenly Archer's massive shoulders shook with a sob. It had come from nowhere, gripping him hard and he was ashamed. Like a blind man he felt for the chair and used it as a crutch when he sat down.

  "I don't want you to save me. I want to save myself. I need to prove to you that I couldn't have hurt that boy much less killed him."

  Josie faltered, unable to think, unsure of what to do. In this plain room she had finally heard the truth and it had nothing to do with Archer and everything to do with her. Josie had always been removed from the horrors of losing the people she loved. Now, though, she was wading through a sea of hurt that pulled her under, suffocated her, and rendered her powerless against the rise and fall of the tides of Archer's hatred and self-pity. What was she to do? Save him from the law? Protect him from himself? Turn her back and walk away because he had lashed out and wounded her? Archer's head lifted. He was spent. He didn't know what he had done.

  "Can you get me home, Jo?"

  She shook her head. She was numb. She whispered, "No."

  As if on cue the door opened and an officer was there.

  "They filed a formal complaint?" Josie barely glanced at him.

  "Sure did. We just got word bail's been revoked."

  Josie nodded. The door closed. She sat at the table with Archer and touched his hand, entwining her fingers in his.

  "From here on out, we are lawyer and client. Do you understand?"

  "It will break us, Jo," Archer murmured.

  "Maybe. Maybe not." Josie said, knowing in her heart that he was right. Some truths she may not be able to live with, not with Archer by her side.

  She slid her hands from under his. The cop was back. He had Archer by the arm, and was lifting him to his feet, cuffing him.

  Against her better judgment, against all rules of protocol, against the warning Josie had just given Archer that she was nothing more than his attorney, Josie stepped forward – not to her client but toward the man she loved.

  Putting her arms around him even though he could not reciprocate, Josie touched her cheek against his and breathed in his scent. She moved slightly so that Archer could feel her body properly against his. The policemen who had him in custody would never know how intimate the moment was.

  "Archer," she said under her breath.

  There was nothing more. As he was led away all Josie could do was pray that she would be planning his defense, not his funeral, in the days to come.

  CHAPTER 20

  "Of course I'm mad. Lord, Hannah, what
were you thinking letting a man you don't know in this house?"

  Hannah sat on Josie's bed, one leg cocked under her, her head held high as Josie paced. The only sign that Josie's anger upset her was the scratching: left hand, right forearm. Though the sleeves of her shirt were long, Josie knew the skin beneath was fragile from so many years of cutting. The scratching wasn't a good sign but that minute Josie didn't care.

  "Stop scratching, Hannah. Just stop. And don't count. I can't take it tonight."

  "Then don't watch." Hannah's lashes fluttered and Josie saw just the hint of green defiant eyes. "And don't get mad because I let Jude in."

  "But you didn't know it was Jude," Josie insisted. "You've never met him. This case has been in the papers and anybody could have shown up and said they were Jude."

  "I knew it was him. I have good instincts. He's not dangerous. He's just full of himself. And rich. My mother would like him." Hannah tossed her head and her long black hair rippled down her back. It was a frivolous gesture, the icing on the cake of infuriating things Hannah was doing to stake her claim to Josie's attention.

  "Stop!" Josie threw herself at Hannah and took her left hand in both of hers. So tall she had to double over, Josie looked a surprised Hannah straight in the eye. "I can't worry that you're going to spiral, Hannah. I need you to give me a little pay back here."

  "I thought you asked me to stay with you because you wanted to help me. I didn't know I was being bought," Hannah challenged boldly.

  "Oh, please," Josie let go of her hand and stood up. "You know exactly what I'm saying. Letting a man you don't know into this house is stupid. I want better for you. What I really want is for things to be normal for you and I'm upset they can't be right now. So, I'm asking you, I'm begging you, try to chill until I get through this thing with Archer. Try not to take it personally because you think I'm not paying attention to you."

  "That's not what I'm doing. That's not it at all and if you think it is then you don't know anything about me." The mattress gave a little bounce as Hannah got off the bed and stormed out of the room slamming the door behind her.

  Josie whipped around, not sure where to turn. The French doors she and Archer had hung led to the patio and the garden oasis it had taken her three months to build with her own hands. Beyond that there was the wall and the beach and the town of Hermosa and Los Angeles past that. The thought of running from her problems made Josie feel sick. She was not her mother. Josie didn't give up because life got tough or was uninteresting or there was the promise of something better just over the hill. But life was tougher than it had ever been and something was eating away at her confidence.

  "I don't usually have to invite myself into a woman's bedroom to get them to notice me."

  Josie's shoulders sagged. Her chin dropped to her chest and she chuckled pitifully. She hadn't even heard Jude open the door. He grinned at her when she looked over her shoulder.

  "I'll just bet you don't, Jude. I also bet you don't get asked to leave a bedroom too often either." Josie walked by him, flipping off the bedroom light as she went. In the living room she pointed to the coffee table. "Do you want a fresh drink?"

  "No thanks. Hannah makes a strong one. She's an interesting kid." Jude sat on the couch as if he did it every night.

  "The operative word is kid," Josie warned and sat across from him in the leather chair. "But Hannah isn't the topic. Pacific Park is."

  "Well," Jude said regretfully. "Archer really blew it tonight. Colin's making noises about filing against Archer whether or not he's exonerated. So if you want to protect him, you've got to control him."

  "He's in jail, Jude. You can't get more controlled than that." Josie got up, unable to sit still while she talked about Archer. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, raising her voice while she did so. "We never asked Colin for anything. I'm sorry he forfeited the bond money but it was a calculated risk. Don't worry. He'll get his day in court when Archer is out of this mess."

  "I don't appreciate the sarcasm, Josie," Jude said quietly. "Colin is genuinely anguished. He wanted to help Archer because he just couldn't believe anyone would intentionally hurt Tim but, if Archer's guilty, Colin wants his head."

  "Then I guess we'll just have to make sure we prove he isn't, won't we?"

  Josie leaned against the wall that divided living and dining room. Jude didn't bother to argue and she didn't much feel like talking about Colin Wren and his self-righteous, long suffering act. She raised her beer. She took a drink. She wanted her life back and she wanted it back with Archer. Jude sitting in her living room wasn't helping anything.

  "Why didn't you just call me with whatever you turned up in the inspection, Jude?"

  "I thought you might need a friend." He smiled small and looked sad. "But now that I see you don't, I'll just tell you what I've got then you can figure out where you want to go from there."

  Josie sniffed. Her backbone stiffened. Pitied by a legal gigolo. How far she had fallen.

  "I think that's a dandy idea." She took another drink.

  "We didn't find anything you can use," he admitted. The harness straps on some of the stations had been replaced; it was obvious they were of varying age. Tim's was older. The locking mechanism was somewhat different than the newer ones, but no less serviceable. We'll make sure that it met industry standards at the time but there's no reason to think it didn't." Jude stood up and slung his jacket over his arm. "Wilson and Doctor Hart suggest the ride be tested for metal fatigue, do stress tests on the harness before you go to trial."

  "Don't you mean if?" Josie drawled.

  "No, Josie, I mean when. Any chance you had to beat the prelim ended tonight and I think you know it."

  "I would have expected more fight out of you, Jude."

  "I'm practical. I know when to regroup. So, I guess that's it. I'll see you in court." He took a minute. When she didn't say anything he sighed. "We were all pulling for it to go a different way, Josie."

  "He is innocent, Jude." Josie stared at the floor, the bottle of beer dangled from her fingers. "Everyone is until someone proves they're not."

  "Guess that's true in your business," Jude noted. "In mine everyone is guilty of something and there's a price to pay."

  "Then let's find out what Pacific Park is guilty of and maybe it will make Ruth Alcott and John Cooper think twice about prosecuting Archer. Bring me something I can leverage." Her eyes flickered to Jude as she laid down the challenge. "I want Archer out of jail. Colin can have his pound of flesh, just not at Archer's expense."

  Jude paused as he came abreast of Josie. Equally tall, equally handsome, they looked one another in the eye. Jude touched her arm. He gave it a squeeze.

  "Ask for help if you need it, Josie, but don't order me around. Shooting yourself in the foot can be fatal in our business."

  Josie looked down at his hand and he backed off, ready to leave. She hated that she needed his help but, suddenly, she realized he had something she could use. Jude had Wilson Page.

  "Okay, Jude, I need help," she said and turned her back to the wall. She leaned against it and faced Jude head on. "Ask Wilson to go online. I want the plans for the east quadrant of the park during the years the Shock & Drop was in operation. I mean, from the minute it was assembled to the minute they moved it. I'm looking for camera placements in the community areas. Would you do that for me? Would you ask Wilson if he can do that online?"

  "Okay, Josie. Okay." Jude stepped back. He seemed to want to say something else, to do something more. Instead he gave up and let himself out.

  Hearing the door close Max raised his head and blinked at Josie. She still stared at the spot where Jude had stood. Slowly the dog got to his feet, his hind quarters hobbled by arthritis but his spirit strong as ever. His toenails clicked on the hard wood as he came up beside her and leaned against her legs. She touched him absentmindedly then pushed off the wall and headed to her room. Josie laid on her bed, the bottle of beer held on her
stomach with one hand, her other arm cocked beneath her head. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling and nothing in her brain but doubt about Archer, herself and a world that thought there was anyone who would intentionally kill a disabled child – any child.

  ***

  There is no sound in heaven or earth that resonates in the gut like the sounds men make in prison. Those sounds are loud, constant and unintelligible. They are a hodgepodge of noises made by bullies and victims, supplicants and avowed saints. Some call out to friends, others holler for the hell of it, some talk, convincing only themselves of their innocence. They throw things, demand things, pray for things and nobody pays much attention at all; not their fellow inmates, not the guards and certainly not God. Archer had heard it all before – he just hadn't heard it from the inside.

  He had been scrubbed down, his clothes, keys and wallet taken away, his body checked for contraband. All this had been done with a detached efficiency Archer used to call professional. Now he had another word for it: dehumanizing. Even the guard, who looked familiar as he came to collect Archer and move him past the first gate, barely gave him a look. Archer was a prisoner and the guard had a job to do.

  A switch was thrown. Mechanics and metal, wiring and wizardry created magic. The gate was pulled back just in time for the guard to guide Archer through it and into a narrow hallway. They had only gone fifty yards, but the prison's instant messaging system telegraphed Archer's arrival in a wave of calls and hoots and hollers.

  A fingertip on the shoulder and Archer lurched, irritated that this guy who should have recognized him was treating him like a normal son of a bitch. But Archer had turned just enough to see that the guard was quick and professional. His hand was at the ready on the club that hung off his belt.

  "Sorry, man." Archer mumbled and clicked his eyes forward. Another thirty yards and they reached Archer's private accommodations.

  The door was new and shiny. Two rectangular slits were sliced out of the metal: one for Archer's eyes to see out, one for food to be shoved in. The guard touched him. Archer knew the drill. He stepped to the side. A button was pushed. The breakaway of the lock was jarring. Swallowing hard, Archer kept his eyes forward. The door pulled back like a slo-mo reveal: stainless steel toilet, metal bed frame, thin mattress, desk, chair, and a window that allowed no more than a sliver of sun into the small room. Overhead lights Archer couldn't control. No sun, no sand, no sea to look at. This was a horror of a place and Archer would die here, of that he was sure.