The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  "His real father never did come here? You didn't see him at all?" Josie pressed. "Balding. Glasses. Not very tall."

  "Not that I know. Tim never said. I didn't see anyone like that with his mom." Nate walked around Josie, stopping long enough to pass the door to Josie after he opened it. "Tim would have told me if his pop came."

  "Did Tim's mother ever say anything about Tim's real father?"

  "You mean like raggin' on him?" Nate shook his head. "I ain't on intimate personal terms with the patient's families. But if you're askin' if I ever heard her say anything against Tim's pop while I was around, the answer is no. The only thing I know for sure is that woman walked a tight rope between her man and Tim. At the end, she only cared about the boy. She didn't worry that her man didn't want to be here. She wanted to be here." Nate threw a look over his shoulder and then gave Josie another minute and a suggestion. "I gotta go now but if you hang around 'till dinner you can catch Mrs. Schmidt. Her and Tim's mom were tight. Maybe she knows what went down."

  "Thanks. I just might do that." Josie was already turning away, Nate was a step further down the hall when he stopped and called her back. They walked toward each other. When Nate was close enough he said:

  "Just for the record, if your man hurt Tim I hope he fries."

  As Nate went on to where he was needed, Josie took that into account. This was the first time she'd heard a cold call for Archer's blood: it had been implied in the press, reflected in people's eyes, even heard in the face of Burt's wavering defense of Archer after the second arrest. Raising her eyes, Josie clutched her bag tight, drew a deep breath through her nose and let it out through pursed lips. She heard someone holler. She heard the sounds of a television and a respirator. Things could be worse for Archer. Not by much, but it was possible.

  In the parking lot, Josie settled into the Jeep and called Hannah to let her know she wouldn't be home until late. That done, Josie put her head back and looked at the roof of her car and wondered if anyone would notice if she just never got out again.

  ***

  Hannah hung up the phone as the doorbell rang. Following the new house rules she pulled Max close, walked quietly toward the door and pulled back the white curtains on the window just enough to see if friend or foe waited outside. With a cluck and a put upon sigh, Hannah sent Max packing, unlocked the door and opened it as though she was doing a great favor to Billy Zuni who waited on the porch with a huge grin on his face.

  "What do you want?"

  Holding the door open just far enough so Billy could see her face Hannah assumed Billy would see exactly how unimpressed she was with his presence, how impatient she was for him to get the message. It wasn't enough. Billy grinned wider and pushed his blonde bangs out of his eyes.

  "Hannah. Hey. I told Ms. B. I'd be checking on you when she wasn't around. I don't see her car so I figured I'd check on you. The way I said I would. . ."

  His voice trailed off. He wasn't as dumb as Hannah thought. The fading smile, the way he moved his weight from one foot to the other told her he knew when he was being dissed. Too bad it didn't make him go away.

  "The car could be in the garage, you know," Hannah pointed out wearily.

  "Yeah, but it isn't because I've been waiting for her since four and she didn't come home from work early." Billy brightened as he bested Hannah. He was a man on a mission and he wasn't going to give up trying to make Hannah like him. "So, since Ms. B's not home, I should watch out for you 'cause it's getting dark."

  "You mean you want to babysit me?" Hannah rolled her eyes in disbelief and Max whimpered as if he felt bad for Billy.

  "No, no," Billy shook his head hard. "No, for sure, I just want to make sure you're okay. Like do you need anything – or anything? If you don't, I could just, like, well. . . You want me to sit on the patio and hang? I can do that?"

  "No, I want you to go home, Billy. Just go home and leave me alone."

  "Naw, I can't do that. My mom's got somebody over and I promised."

  "Oh, Christ. I know. You promised Josie."

  Hannah threw open the door and walked away. He could come in or not – his choice. Hannah went into her bedroom and shut the door. Billy just talked louder.

  "So, I thought we could go to Burt's and get some burgers. I don't have any money but Burt knows I'm good for it."

  Billy stood in the living room waiting for her to come back but it was Max who came to greet him. Billy took the dog's face in his hands and ruffled him affectionately.

  "Okay, we'll have dinner, dude," he whispered.

  Billy changed Max's water and dug in the bag for his food. When he was done, he went to the patio and picked up the hose to water Josie's plants. That's where Hannah found him.

  "So, do you want to go get something to eat or not?" she demanded.

  Her fingers touched the sides of the door over and over and over again, short bursts of activity that kept Hannah aware of her parameters, hiding the fact that she was nervous because Josie wasn't there. Billy didn't seem to notice; the same way he didn't notice her low-slung jeans and her tight t-shirt, the chocolaty skin in-between and how beautiful Hannah was even when she was annoyed. Billy didn't notice those things because Hannah had just told him that she was willing to go with him to Burt's. That made him grin again.

  "Yeah. For sure, Hannah. You want to go down to the beach? It's not too cold. You know, we could sit and watch the waves for a while and then go to Burt's and then we could go walk on the pier later. They say there's going to be red tide but I think it's too late for that."

  "This isn't a date. I just want to go get dinner and then go home again and then you leave." Hannah led Billy through the house. She touched the table, the lamp and the sofa on the way out the door.

  As loyal as Max the Dog, Billy listened to the ground rules while Hannah locked up. She walked to the end of the path three times and three times she went back to check the door. The fourth time Billy went with her and that was enough to make Hannah stop checking. Shrugging into her hoodie, she walked by Billy's side as they crossed the street and made a right on the bike path heading toward Burt's. Billy stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around, wracking his brain for something to say. Finally, he hit on something they both knew something about.

  "You know, maybe this thing with Lexi's kid is why Archer doesn't really take to us. Maybe it's why he doesn't like kids."

  "Maybe," Hannah muttered.

  "Like, what are you going to do if Archer is guilty?" Billy asked.

  "I'm not going to do anything." Hannah pulled a face and looked at him as if he was a mutant. "Why should I have to do anything?"

  "Hey, whoa, Hannah. Don't get mad about it. I was just asking." They walked in silence a minute longer. Then he brightened. Another thought had come into his head. It was the answer to her question. "Because things aren't going to be good if Archer killed that kid."

  "I wouldn't imagine," Hannah muttered not wanting to use her energy to point out how stupidly obvious that was.

  She bent and swept something off the street. It was a piece of silver paper, a gum wrapper. She put it in her pocket. Even though the beach wasn't her favorite place, she didn't want to see it dirty. Besides, it gave her something to do while Billy struggled to get the conversation going.

  "Yeah," Billy mused. "Josie might not want kids around anymore if Archer has to go away because of a kid. See what I mean? I don't think she'd want me around anymore because I'd remind her of that boy, but maybe Josie wouldn't want either of us around anymore. You know, because it was a kid who caused this grief. And we're about his age. You and me. Well, we're older but . . ."

  Billy walked on hardly noticing that Hannah had fallen back. When he turned to find her, Hannah blanked her expression, opened her mouth and said:

  "God, you're stupid."

  Turning around, she stormed back to Josie's house. Billy followed her. He took no offense at her attitude. Billy knew Hannah hadn't thought
about what would happen the way he had. He always thought ahead. When you figured out the worst that could happen then everything else was better. He wasn't the smartest guy on the beach but still he did know one thing for sure. It was a lesson his mother had taught him well. Billy Zuni knew that women liked to blame the kid when the men walked away or were taken away or were put away.

  That was just a fact of life.

  CHAPTER 23

  Using normal parameters, Josie Bates did not consider herself an overly charitable person. She didn't collect toys for children at Christmas. She didn't pray for world peace. She didn't lunch with ladies who raised money to save anything with four legs or two fins. She never volunteered to help the sick. Yes, she had taken Hannah in, but that seemed less charity than an in-your-face necessity. That act was definitive: feed and clothe Hannah, teach her, give her an opportunity to thrive and then let her take it from there. But charity? The kind personified by truly selfless goodness in the face of unrelenting need? That was another matter altogether. Total dependency, perpetual weakness, those were conditions that Josie could not abide because it made the person on the other end of the stick seem almost God-like. Nobody but nobody was that good.

  Maybe that was why Josie took a minute to study Mrs. Schmidt in room 21. She was looking for a sign that the woman wasn't as perfect as she seemed. Josie wanted to catch her when she faltered, see the break in her bearing that would prove this woman was as fatally flawed as ninety-nine percent of the population. But she wasn't. Mrs. Schmidt was possessed of superhuman patience, kindness and good humor. To top it all off, she was gorgeous.

  Mrs. Schmidt was a willowy and lady-like woman. Her clothes were simple and chic. Her face was exquisitely proportioned and framed by honey blond hair. Her hands were graceful as she went about her chore and Mrs. Schmidt's voice was gentle. She didn't seem to notice that the man in the bed did not respond to her loving dialogue or eat the food she so carefully spooned into his barely moving mouth or look her in the eye.

  Because she was in the presence of a truly charitable woman, Josie waited to knock until after Mrs. Schmidt wiped her husband's mouth when the food bubbled out.

  "Mrs. Schmidt?"

  "Yes." The bowl went into her lap. Her wide brown eyes looked straight at Josie. Her shoulders were back, her expression clear and without curiosity.

  "My name is Josie Baylor – Bates and I. . ."

  "And you're here to talk to me about Tim and Lexi," the woman finished for her, punctuating the sentence with a gentle laugh as she put the bowl aside and pushed the bed table away. "Nate told me about you. He watches out for all of us. He knows how family members hate surprises."

  "I don't mean to intrude. I can wait until you're finished." Josie's looked at the man in the bed. Her gaze didn't linger because Nate had been right. There was no comfortable place here for those who didn't really belong.

  "That's all right. I'm done, actually."

  She leaned over her husband and took the napkin from his chest. Working quickly but with no sense of urgency, she folded the napkin, said something to her husband, laid one hand atop his head and then kissed him on the cheek.

  "This is my husband, James. He's been this way since a car accident ten years ago. I come have dinner with him every night – just in case."

  "In case there's a change?" Josie asked, trying desperately to make the right small talk.

  Mrs. Schmidt's bovine eyes turned Josie's way. She smiled a Sophia Loren smile.

  "No, there won't be any change," she said frankly as she joined Josie. "I come everyday to get my spiritual brownie points. James always said you needed to put something away for a rainy day. He meant money, but I think it was wise advice for a lot of things in life, don't you? I mean, who is to say I won't be in a bed like that someday. If I am, and if I have enough brownie points, maybe God will send someone to take care of me. So, I come just in case."

  "That's good advice. I wish I followed it."

  They ambled down the hall, Mrs. Schmidt leading Josie with no more than a slight list, an almost imperceptible motion of her hand. She and her husband must have been fine on the dance floor.

  "I wish I had before this happened, then I would have had something to draw down on. Maybe James would have just been hurt instead of ending up like that." They stopped at a glass door. Mrs. Schmidt put one hand on it and inclined her head. "Do you mind sitting on the patio? I like a cigarette after dinner."

  A second later Josie was standing on a square of concrete where the patients were taken to 'get air'. There were white wrought iron tables and chairs with sun-bleached cushions scattered around. The umbrellas were collapsed and fastened, the summer flowers had faded and not been replaced in the three small planters. The patio was illuminated by light that filtered from the surrounding hallways.

  Mrs. Schmidt took a chair at the table in the far corner, pulled another one up and put her feet on it. Josie sat opposite her and knew that she was privy to a ritual: a cigarette, a look up, a few thoughts about life and love and fate then home alone.

  "I miss Lexi." Mrs. Schmidt's voice was almost dreamy. There had been no prompt. She didn't look at Josie. The tip of her cigarette moved like a dawdling firefly settling near her lips before flying into the air again. Back and forth. Lazy. Thoughtless. Unenjoyable. Comforting. Then she held the cigarette away and said: "It all seems so long ago. Almost as if they were never here."

  She tapped the ash off her cigarette with a deft flick. Through the darkness Josie saw her turn her head, she saw the glint of her teeth as she smiled ruefully.

  "I'm sorry. I guess I miss Lexi more than I knew. I'm already getting personal and I don't even know what you really want. Maybe just having you sit in that chair the way she did makes me miss her." She took another drag then said, "My name is Carol, by the way."

  "I'm Josie," she reiterated. "Archer's lawyer. I am sorry to intrude, but I need all the information I can get, and I need it fast."

  "I can only tell you things that I observed and it was all a very long time ago," Mrs. Schmidt raised her shoulders slightly, honest and apologetic.

  "But you knew Lexi well," Josie prodded.

  "I did." Carol Schmidt held her cigarette out and looked at the glowing tip as if she was trying to decide whether to give the habit up. She took another hit. "Lexi and I were sisters under the skin. Raw deals all around. Only someone who has been beaten up like we have been could be the kind of friends we were. She called me the married widow. I liked that."

  "Why did she call you that?" Josie asked.

  "Because I wouldn't fool around, I wouldn't acknowledge that James would never be well and that I was healthy and young. She didn't want me to give up on James; she just wanted me to have a life, too. You know, the way she did after she met Archer. I told Lexi I was too much in love with the man James had been." Carol took another drag then tossed the butt into the flowerless bed. "I didn't want to sleep with anyone else. I didn't want to be close to another man."

  "Did Lexi understand that?" Josie asked.

  "Of course she did. Just look at what she was doing for Tim. Every waking hour was spent thinking about that boy, every spare cent was spent on him."

  "But she remarried. She had a life outside of this place," Josie reminded her.

  "And she had a son in here, not a husband. That was the difference," Carol answered.

  "So are you saying that Archer was second fiddle to her relationship with her son?" Josie asked.

  "No, of course not. Lexi loved Archer fiercely the way she loved everyone important in her life. She couldn't believe her luck, finding a good man who was willing to let her do what she had to do for Tim. No," Carol shook her head, "Lexi was happy and that surprised me to no end."

  "Why would her happiness surprise you?" Josie asked, honestly surprised.

  "Because she was so bitter about her first husband; she hated Colin for running out on Tim," Carol Schmidt said. "That's why I was amazed at
how pure her happiness was when she married Archer."

  "What about what Colin did to her? Didn't that make Lexi bitter, too?"

  "Obviously you didn't know her." Carol laughed, unaware that her comment had made Josie feel somehow small, insignificant in the face of the drama that had been Lexi's life. "Lexi always said Colin abandoned Tim, she never said Colin abandoned her. If Lexi truly loved you, you knew it. Then again, if she really didn't like you, you knew that, too." Carol dropped her feet. She put her arms on the table and fiddled with the pack of cigarettes. "I'm sorry. I suppose I should let you ask some questions instead of me just rambling on."

  "No," Josie assured her, "this is fine. Everything helps. Was Lexi's relationship with her ex really that bad?"

  "Who can say? I'm sure Colin had a problem relating to his son, but I don't know if Lexi gave him enough time to adjust to the disappointment of having a child like Tim. For Lexi, love had to be unconditional. When they divorced Lexi didn't want a settlement. She said it would be like a payoff; like Colin wiping his conscience clear of the way he felt about their son. Lexi was so proud and so angry at Colin."

  "But she did get a settlement and a good one at that," Josie reminded Carol.

  "Oh, she finally came to her senses. She took what Colin offered. I thought it was very generous. I thought she should live in the apartment building but she didn't. She said it would be like forgiving Colin but I think that was a little grandstanding. Basically, she did the math and realized that the income from that building would pay for Tim to stay at Greenwood. The actual cash Colin gave her in the settlement didn't last long, though. She just threw it at people who might be able to help Tim. She really wasn't thinking straight. Some of her decisions after the divorce were good and some were just plain destructive."

  Carol Schmidt sighed and flicked at the cigarette pack.

  "I stopped throwing money at doctors eight years ago. Figured my brownie points with God might bring a miracle but there wasn't enough money in the world to cure James. Lexi never did get to that point. I told her she should invest the money so there would be enough for Tim to live on if something happened to her. But she didn't listen. Lexi never really listened. She was like a little steamroller when she got an idea into her head whether it was right or not."