Tim was overwhelmed with gratitude. No one had thought about him in a very long time and now here was Grace, caring about him. Tim wished he were going with her and that was a surprising idea. It unnerved him enough that, as he was driving home, he wished that he could turn back time and it would be the day before Grace McCreary had shown up on their doorstep.
CHAPTER 36
P.J. Vega called her last, most important witnesses the next morning: the coroner who examined Michelle McCreary's wounds and found them to be defensive. The prosecutor led the doctor through great detail but Josie found P.J. to be distracted. Every word seemed hurried, as if she couldn't keep her mind on the task at hand.
On cross, Josie deflected the most damaging testimony. She was prepared to call her witness that afternoon, the one who would state unequivocally that the bruises on Michelle McCreary's body were made as she scrambled up, onto the balcony railing and fought off Grace's attempts to pull her back down.
No harm, no foul. There was no mention of the divorce. Grace was home free—or so Josie thought until P.J. begged the court's indulgence to present one more witness before the prosecution rested. Judge Belote granted the request despite Josie's objection. The good judge would prefer to hear whatever the prosecution had at this juncture rather than unduly burden the trial judge. Josie had no choice but to acquiesce and watch as a stunned Matthew McCreary was called to the stand.
There was a rustle in the courtroom and Josie was part of it. P.J. not only knew about the divorce, she was going to use Grace's brother to deliver the news. Josie glanced at Grace, who sat quietly and seemingly unconcerned. It was Matthew who was confused as he was sworn in, Matthew who sat nervously on the edge of the chair, glancing at the defense table as he tried to catch Grace's eye. If Josie had never felt sympathy for Matthew before, she felt it now. To lie about the divorce would jeopardize him; to tell the truth would jeopardize his sister.
"Mr. McCreary," P.J. called to him.
"Yes?" His voice was barely audible. He looked scared.
"Mr. McCreary, you understand that you are under oath and that you are charged with telling the truth in this proceeding or you will be prosecuted for perjury, do you not?"
"I do," he said. Somberly, P.J. drew herself up and clasped her hands in front of her.
"Mr. McCreary, were you and your wife happily married?"
"No, we were not," he answered mechanically.
"Did your wife file for divorce two weeks before her death?" P.J. wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter.
"Yes, she did."
"When did you find that out?"
"Last night," he mumbled. P.J. moved in on him. He raised his head and said more clearly, "Last night."
"Is there some reason you were unaware of the filing?"
"My sister signed for the papers while I was traveling. She didn't show them to me."
"And why was that?" P.J. asked.
"She believed she could talk my wife out of divorcing me."
"Was Grace McCreary able to do that?"
"No," Matthew answered sadly.
"And did you also learn last night why Mrs. McCreary was not willing to stay in the marriage even for the sake of your career?"
"I did."
"Why was she so anxious for a divorce at such a critical time?" P.J. pressed.
"Because my wife had a lover. She was afraid the press would find out," Matthew said and then leaned toward P.J. and almost whispered. "Please, you don't have to do this."
P.J. ignored him and reiterated: "Mr. McCreary, you found out last night about that lover?"
"I did."
"Who told you?"
Matthew licked his lips. He swallowed hard and looked at the defense table. Grace's eyes were on him, languid and without curiosity.
"'My sister told me," he answered.
"'And how did the defendant know about your wife's affair?"
Matthew stared straight ahead. There was sweat on his upper lip, his chin quivered. He no longer looked handsome. He no longer looked like a leader. Matthew McCreary looked sick. Beside Josie, Grace moved. The ring was twirling slowly, her eyes had narrowed. Her head moved a click more until she was looking at Matthew squarely.
"Mr. McCreary, please answer the question," PJ. pressed.
"Because Grace was my wife's lover," he said.
"You bastard, Matthew." Grace erupted, standing so suddenly that she jostled the table. Josie grabbed for her papers. A howl of surprise swelled behind them. Judge Belote called out to restore order.
"What else did the defendant tell you last night, sir?"
P.J. raised her voice above the din, ignoring Josie's objections for introducing this line of questioning without the defense being advised. Grace called Matthew's name but when he didn't acknowledge her she whirled around and put her hands flat on the table. Her face was inches away from Josie's. Her teeth were clenched.
"Stop him," she growled. "He can't talk. It's privileged. I know that. I know the law. It is privileged information, Josie. Do something."
"I can't, Grace. You're not his wife." Josie tried to grab Grace's arm but she skirted the table and rushed the witness stand.
"Matthew. You can't tell," Grace insisted before turning on P.J. "What I told him is privileged. It's privileged." She rushed the bench and pleaded with the judge. "Don't you get it? Privileged. Privileged."
Grace sounded out the syllables and those in the courtroom were entranced. Not so Judge Belote.
"Bailiff," he said firmly, offering a flick of a finger to direct the man to take action.
Grace saw it. She backed away from the bench, her head whipping about as she looked for a way out. There was none. There was only Josie, who gathered her up and led her back to her chair before the bailiff could restrain her. P.J. never missed a beat and went on with her examination.
"Mr. McCreary, what did your sister tell you about the night your wife died?" P.J. asked.
"Grace told me that Michelle was going to expose their affair. They argued. Grace admitted she pushed my wife off the roof. My sister killed my wife." Matthew raised his voice to be heard over Grace's wail of pain. "She needs help. My sister is sick. Please, she's sick. She needs help."
Matthew pleaded, looking at Grace with such compassion Josie thought her heart would break. Grace McCreary stood up to face him. Tears streamed down her face and her voice cracked but she spoke to her brother nonetheless.
"I loved you." She wailed as if there was no one else in the room. "I loved you better than Michelle did. I loved Michelle better than you did. And who loved me, Matthew? Which one of you really, really loved me?" Suddenly Grace's knees buckled. Josie reached out but Grace shook her off. It seemed as if she might speak again but suddenly Grace put her hands on the table, doubled over and began to keen. Josie looked at Matthew and P.J. but all of them stood helplessly by while Judge Belote adjourned the court with the admonition that they would reconvene at two o'clock the next afternoon to figure out exactly where the parties wanted to go from here.
***
Kevin O'Connel walked back into his house at midnight and he was ticked.
Screw-ups.
They hadn't even known they were supposed to keep him till the next day.
Idiots.
So here he was, home again and the place was stale and unwelcoming. He wasn't in great shape either. His mouth was foul, his hair greasy, his skin crawling with imagined mites. Nobody looked at him twice when he was booked. Nobody listened when he talked. Nobody said anything when they pointed to the door. His car had a ticket on the windshield when he finally got back to it. Another sixty-five bucks and him without any money and that lawyer, Josie Bates, looking at every penny and taking more than her share for Suzy. Now she was making it harder for him to get hours off the books with that PI sniffing around.
Damn Suzy.
Damn that lawyer.
O'Connel stripped and stepped into
the shower. He wasn't a tall man but he was powerfully built and he checked it all out as he soaped up just to make sure some things were still as they should be. He toweled off and combed his wet hair straight back from his forehead. He put on his jeans and a polo shirt that was blindingly white. Then Kevin O'Connel set out to find some trouble. Instead, he found a friend at the Drop By bar. That didn't exactly put Kevin in a better mood but at least here was someone who would listen to his troubles. She was sort of blond, bored and not particular about who she drank with.
Maybe when the Drop By closed she'd go home with him. She wasn't Suzy, but she was better than nothing.
***
Archer pulled the sheets up over Josie's shoulders. She was sleeping hard but he hadn't been able find a comfortable place in bed with her. Maybe it was the bedding and quilt and pillows—all new stuff since O'Connel had had his fun. Maybe it was everything that had happened today in court that kept his eyes open and his mind working. It had been a devastating blow for Josie, one that Archer wished he could take for her. Maybe he couldn't sleep because Josie had changed the ground rules and asked him to stay despite Hannah being home. When Hannah had come to live with her Josie had argued that it would be a bad example for him to spend the night with a teenager in the house. Archer countered that Hannah's mother was the bad example. Loving someone for real was a good thing that Hannah should see. But Josie had remained steadfast—until now.
So tonight Archer held her until she was asleep, and then sat in the chair by the patio doors, listening to the surf, praying that in the morning things would look better. They wouldn't, but a little prayer never hurt. Archer was lost in these thoughts when something caught the corner of his eye. He scanned the room. Josie hadn't moved but something in the doorway had. It was Hannah.
He could see her dark, dark hair and the sheen of her coffee-colored skin. Her hand clutched the doorjamb, her fingers tapped silently and her eyes were trained on the bed, checking to make sure Josie hadn't run out on her. Archer stayed still, watching the ritual, admiring it on some level because he knew it was conducted not only from fear but from love.
Finally, Hannah straightened. Instead of going back to her room, she turned those spring green eyes on the dark corner where Archer sat and looked for a good long time. Then Hannah did something Archer would never have expected. Hannah Sheraton smiled, probably imagining he couldn't see her. For the rest of the night Archer kept watch over Josie Bates and the girl who had smiled at him in the dark.
CHAPTER 37
"Where is your client, Ms. Bates?"
Judge Belote drummed the fingers of one hand on the arm of his chair. Impatience had evaporated, leaving only a hard core of judicial displeasure that would be impossible to melt. Three times he directed Josie to track down her client. Three times he insisted that Josie leave her cell phone on the defense table so they could all wait for Grace McCreary to call back. Spectators squirmed. The press doodled. Josie sat alone while P.J. made notes as they waited. The silence was punctuated by the sound of the judge using his pen like a sword. He jabbed at dots and slashed at cross strokes while he wrote orders and opinions. Belote seemed in no hurry to go anywhere, but the day was wearing on and Josie's nerves were wearing thin.
Grace wasn't coming. She hadn't answered her phones, or opened the door when Josie pounded on it at noon. Matthew wasn't taking her calls either. Helen Crane couldn't be reached. Tim Douglas was fielding the phones at headquarters, keeping the volunteers working, answering press inquiries and losing his mind. The candidate was now up to his ears in scandal and the candidate's sister was nearing fugitive status. Josie had no choice but to risk Belote's wrath. She pushed back her chair and stood up.
"If it please the court, Your Honor, my client was not well this morning. Obviously, she's taken a turn for the worse. I ask the court's indulgence and would like to request a continuance so that I can find out what kind of assistance she needs."
"Your Honor," P.J. said, "it is a condition of Ms. McCreary's bail that she be available and visible each day during any court proceedings. I would ask that you direct the defense to either produce the defendant or a witness to verify Ms. McCreary's illness. In lieu of that, I request the court issue a warrant and bring the defendant here in custody."
Before the judge could direct anything, the door of the courtroom opened. All heads turned and Josie thought she heard a distinct groan of disappointment when a clerk appeared and handed something to the bailiff. The bailiff passed it up to the bench so that the judge could ignore it. Josie looked back again to see if Grace followed along.
"Ms. Bates? Ms. Bates!" Judge Belote bellowed. He lowered his voice when he had her attention. "Ms. Bates, do you have an affidavit from the defendant's physician?"
"No, Your Honor. Again, respectfully, I would like to request a continuance so that I can sort this out. I'm concerned that Ms. McCreary might be sicker than I originally—"
"Save it." The judge cut her off. "I've already given you far more leeway than you deserve considering what happened yesterday."
"Chambers, then, Your Honor." Josie made a last ditch effort to dodge. "Last night I became aware of something that I believe—"
"Unless you're going to raise the late Mrs. McCreary from the dead, Ms. Bates, you're wasting my time. Is the investigating officer here?" Belote's eyes swept the courtroom. Babcock identified himself. "Detective, the court believes that the defendant has voluntarily absented herself from these proceedings. I'm issuing a bench warrant for her arrest. The defendant will be remanded to custody and I will not entertain any motions to the contrary. I want that to be soon, Detective. And both parties will know exactly where we're taking this matter when we come together again after Ms. McCreary is found."
Judge Belote was already halfway to his chambers when Babcock took off. The spectators were leaving. P.J. smiled as Josie pushed past her and hurried after Babcock.
She spied him at the end of the hall and was almost in full sprint when she saw Matthew coming through a side door looking like he had slept in his clothes. Josie hurried to meet him, pulling him out of Babcock's line of sight.
"Did you find her? Have you heard from her?" she demanded without preamble.
"No. No. I don't know where she is. I swear," Matthew insisted. That was all Josie needed to know. She made to leave but Matthew stopped her. "Josie, please. You know I couldn't perjure myself. You've got to understand that."
"I understand that you had every opportunity to tell me what Grace said last night. If you had, I could have been ready for this."
"And I was in shock. My wife and sister lovers? Grace admitting she pushed Michelle? Do you know what kind of blow that was? I didn't want to tell anyone about that."
"Except the prosecutor," Josie reminded him. "It appears P.J. knew all about it."
"I never meant for that to happen! I went to Helen. I owed her that. I needed her advice and . . ."
"Helen's not your mother, Matthew. You don't have to tell her everything, and you owed your sister something, too," Josie shot back.
"Hey, it's my life we're talking about." Matthew raised his voice, angry and discouraged. "That used to mean something to you. And I'm not a murderer. Grace is. I did my best and it wasn't good enough."
"Not another word from you, Matthew." Josie cut him off. "I want to hear it from Grace because right now I'm thinking that you're not the most reliable witness. When I get you on the stand for cross—" Josie looked past Matthew. Babcock had gone out the door. She maneuvered around him and hurried away, throwing a last thought over her shoulder as she went. "If you hear from her, Matthew, you tell me or I swear I will ruin you myself."
***
Josie burst through the doors of the courthouse, but she didn't have far to go to catch Babcock. He was sitting in his car with the door open as he talked into the radio. Josie put one hand on the top of the car, the other on the door. She didn't care if he was talking to the pope, she needed his atte
ntion.
"What do I have to do to get you to slow down on that warrant?" she asked.
"Don't put yourself out," he answered before he signed off. "I've got people over at her place now. The house is locked up tight."
"Her car?" Josie asked.
"Garage is locked. It might be in there. We're assuming it isn't."
"Okay, then, give me a heads-up before you take her into custody." Josie was ready to bargain with anything she had, which wasn't much.
"It's not going to happen, Ms. Bates. I'm sorry."
Discouraged, Josie put her hand on her hip and dropped her chin. She should have turned her back on Grace McCreary the minute she met her. But she hadn't. Now Grace was her responsibility. Coldblooded killer or disturbed woman, Josie had no choice but to defend her.
"Look, Babcock, I'm just asking you to call me because I think she might be dangerous."
"Armed?" He slipped on his sunglasses. Josie felt better when she couldn't see those amber eyes.
"I doubt it. I'm thinking she might hurt herself. Give me time. I'll find her. I'll walk her in. Right to you," Josie promised.
"I am sorry." It sounded like an apology. It was a polite refusal to compromise.
Josie took another step away, swung her head and briefly looked skyward. The late-afternoon sun shined brightly but gave off no heat now. Babcock's interest was a different matter. It was intense. He was waiting for something—he was waiting for honesty.
"I don't know where she is, Babcock," Josie said.
"All right then," he said.
"And she doesn't know how bad this is going to be for her," Josie said.
The Witness Series Bundle Page 82