Sleep Savannah Sleep

by Alistair Cross

  On the stand, Sheriff Marshall Redding answered Gregorio’s questions with a posture of tension, his dark eyes inscrutable. Next to him, boosted a foot or two or higher, the Honorable Warren J. Fitch sat unmoving, a bullfrog waiting for a fly, and at a low desk beneath the judge, a stenographer tapped away determinedly.

  Jason sat in the gallery, on one of the wooden benches at the far end of the room - which was too hot and too stuffy. He tugged at his collar. This is a nightmare. A horrible nightmare, and I’ll wake up any moment. But it was real, and he knew it. He took a deep breath.

  Beside him, Hallie squeezed his hand and gave him a little smile. Jason smiled back, glancing over at Flynn Garvey and Scott Sturgess, who sat next to each other several feet away. Flynn had lost enough weight that his suit looked a size or two too large, and Scott stared rigidly ahead, his face expressionless. Flynn glanced at Jason and offered him a slight nod.

  Jason nodded back. At least he doesn’t hate me like everyone else in this town. The past days had proved to him that the residents of Shadow Springs, in general, did not side with the new guy when the chips were down. He had yet to become accustomed to the icy stares of his fellow townspeople and, even now, felt as if everyone were watching him. And they probably are. I’m the reason we’re all here.

  Beyond Sturgess and Garvey, sat Marlee Delgado in a black-and-white leopard-print coat, her eyes so bloodshot they matched her painted lips. It pained Jason seeing her like that and he felt ashamed of himself, as if it were somehow his fault that her husband was on trial for murder. He wondered if she hated him, too. She glanced over and offered him a thin, awkward smile.

  Jason grimaced back.

  Gregorio finished his questions, and Delgado’s attorney, Ms. Winters, approached the witness box. She walked slowly and deliberately, a panther preparing to pounce. When she arrived in front of the sheriff, she was silent for a beat, then said, “Sheriff Redding.” Her voice was surprisingly low.

  The stenographer began tapping away.

  Redding instantly began to sweat, his forehead glittering beneath the lights as he shifted in his seat and cleared his throat compulsively.

  Shit. He’s going to crack.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Redding sat forward, clasping his hands in front of him, trying to appear casual.

  “We know that you were given a lead that brought you to the body of the victim. Would you mind describing to the court the nature of that lead?”

  Redding cleared his throat. “I was, er, approached by one of the citizens of Shadow Springs. Mr. Jason Crandall. He came to my office and, well, he told me where I could find Savannah Sturgess.”

  “And did he explain to you how he knew where to look?” The attorney’s tone held a mocking lilt.

  Redding shifted. “He, er, he said he’d been having dreams and, uh, visions that pointed out the grave of Tabitha Cooper, where Savannah Sturgess was later discovered.”

  Winters paced in front of the stand, hands behind her back. She paused, then turned to face the audience. “Visions and dreams.” Derisive humor tugged at the corners of her mouth. “How very intriguing.”

  Jason held his breath, humiliation burning like flames on his cheeks.

  “Objection, Your Honor,” called Ed Gregorio. “Ms. Winters’ opinions on the matter are irrelevant to the case.”

  “Objection sustained,” said Fitch. “Please continue Ms. Winters, and refrain from expressing your personal thoughts.”

  Winters nodded and turned to Redding. “What reasons, may I ask, did you have for following up with such a story?”

  Redding shifted. “Well, none at first. But we’d pretty much run out of leads, see, and-”

  “I’m sure you receive plenty of unhelpful tips in cases like this, Sheriff. Phone calls from curious locals who want to be part of the action. Certainly, in a case like this one, you receive outrageous witness claims that you simply have to ignore.” She spread her hands. “I mean, if you followed every potential lead, you wouldn’t get anywhere.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  From his seat in the front, Ed Gregorio watched Jacqueline Winters, an amused smile on his face. From time to time, he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe her nerve.

  “So, let me ask you again: What made you decide to follow up on this very unusual lead?”

  Redding shifted again, clearing his throat.

  Jason held his breath, wondering if the man would admit that he’d been blackmailed.

  “As I said, we didn’t have any other leads. And well …” His eyes darted toward Jason. “I believed him.”

  “I see. And why did you believe him? I’d be inclined to think this was just another false lead.”

  Redding sighed. “I’ve been doing this job a long time Ms. Winters. I know when someone’s lying and I know when someone’s telling the truth. And I believed that Mr. Crandall was telling me the truth.”

  “I see.” Winters paced, looking deliberately perplexed as she tapped a long red nail against her lip. “So … just so we’re clear. Mr. Crandall showed up at your office, told you he’d had a dream about-”

  “It was several dreams, actually. And some … visions.”

  With a look of mock surprise on her face, Winters said, “I stand corrected, Sheriff. Several dreams-” she cast an eye-roll at the jury, “-and a few visions, too.” She deliberately suppressed a smile and continued. “So, he showed up, told you about the dreams and visions in which he allegedly saw the location of the victim’s body … and you promptly began an investigation. So promptly, in fact, that you immediately called your buddies at the health department who issued an order of exhumation for Mrs. Tabitha Cooper, whose remains were exhumed the very next day. Is this correct?”

  Redding hesitated. “Yes, ma’am. And that’s where we discovered Savannah Sturgess’ body. Beneath the coffin of Tabitha Cooper.”

  She sighed. “Is this usual protocol for your department, Sheriff? Investigating cases based on dreams-” she turned to the jury,”-and visions of the locals?”

  “Well, no, but like I said, we didn’t have anything else to go on. And we have had assistance from a psychic in the past.” He cleared his throat. “Tabitha Cooper, in fact. She gave us several fruitful leads over the years.”

  Winters didn’t acknowledge the sheriff’s last statement. “Visions and dreams.” She clasped her hands behind her back and slowly stalked from one end of the bench to the other, calling to mind a cat in a cage.

  The judge’s froggy eyes followed her.

  “Yes, ma’am.” A droplet of sweat rolled down Redding’s cheek and over his jaw.

  “Does that seem suspicious to you, Sheriff?”

  He cleared his throat. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, if I were in your position, and someone came to me with a story like that, I’d be inclined to think that person knew something more than he was telling me. Something he might be trying to hide.”

  Ed Gregorio stood, looking exasperated. “Your Honor, I object to this entire line of inquiry. Counsel has been leading the witness, mischaracterizing the record, not to mention-”

  “Objection sustained,” Fitch said. “Get to the point, Ms. Winters.”

  Winters sighed. “Very well, Your Honor.” She looked at Redding. “So, you have no evidence besides what you’ve just told us regarding the methods by which you discovered the victim’s body?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “And you don’t believe Mr. Crandall had any involvement with the murder of Savannah Sturgess - aside from the, uh-” she chuckled, “-visions and dreams, that is?”

  Redding hesitated. “No, ma’am. I don’t.”

  She remained silent a moment, then nodded. “No further questions, Your Honor.” Smiling triumphantly at Travis Delgado, she returned to her seat.

  Several reporters lingered on the steps in front of the courthouse.

  Hallie and Jason brushed past, ignoring them. In the car, Jason put his head in his hands. “Oh, good God,
she’s going to rip me to shreds.”

  Hallie touched his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. All you have to do is tell the truth.”

  “But you saw how she humiliated Redding. Can you just imagine what she’s going to do to me when it’s my turn up there?”

  Hallie patted him. “Don’t think about that now, handsome.”

  Panic beat in his chest, threatening to crack his rib cage. His head ached, his mouth was dry, and his stomach felt like it was filled with molten lava. “She’ll ruin me.”

  “No, she won’t.”

  He sighed, running a hand down his face. “It was a mistake to move here.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Who cares what anyone in this godforsaken town thinks of you, anyway? They’re all a bunch of small-minded go-nowhere imbeciles who just need something to talk about.” She paused. “And if you’d never moved here, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  Jason blushed.

  “No one actually believes you killed Savannah, Jason.”

  “I don’t think that’s entirely true.” Already both his children had been told by their peers that their father was a murderer, and Stevie Rose’s parents no longer allowed their daughter to play with Amber.

  “As soon as they prove that Travis Delgado killed her, you’ll be the hero, not the villain. They’re only focusing on you right now because they don’t have anything else to talk about. But that will change when Travis takes the stand, trust me.”

  “Yeah, but I’m afraid I’ll always be that guy - the one who mysteriously knew where the body was. I’ll be the community outcast, the next Tabitha Cooper. And my kids.” He rubbed his temples. “God, the kids …”

  “It’ll blow over, Jason. As soon as the next big thing comes along. And in a small town like this, big things are pretty tiny.”

  Jason blew out a breath. “I think it’ll be awhile before anything draws their attention away from this.”

  Hallie considered. “Would it help if I started a passionate love affair with the Honorable - and very married - Warren Fitch? I could probably get past the buggy eyes and double chins if it meant creating a diversion.”

  “What?” Jason looked at her, confused.

  She started laughing and he realized she was joking.

  He laughed, too. “You’re too good to me, you know that, right?”

  A knock at his window startled him.

  Coop, his face twitching, gestured for him to roll down the window.

  Jason brought it down. “Coop? Where did you come from? I didn’t see you in the-”

  “I hate to ruin your good time, but I just wanted you to know I don’t like it when people come to town and stir shit up.” Sweat shone on his face, making him look like a peeled onion.

  “What?” For a moment, Jason thought he must be kidding.

  But Coop wasn’t kidding. “She deserved to rest in peace, Jason.”

  “Coop,” Jason started to get out of the car, but Coop held his hand up.

  “Don’t bother. There’s nothing else to say.” His eyelid flickered like a failing light bulb and he had the look of a man who was about an inch away from becoming dangerous.

  Jason slowly reseated himself.

  “I think you should get your car fixed somewhere else from now on.” Coop turned and strode away, shoulders hunched, steps heavy and determined.

  Jason was speechless. Only now did he realize he hadn’t heard from Coop in some time - he hadn’t come over for their evening beer in days. Jason looked at Hallie, feeling grave-cold despite the heat.

  They were both silent a moment, then Hallie said, “I guess I’d better start up that love affair with Fitch right away.”

  But neither of them laughed this time.

  It was after ten-thirty before Jason was able to take a shower and get ready for bed. He’d come home to find the words, MURDERER and FREAK written in permanent marker on the front door. It took some hairspray and Mr. Clean Magic Erasers to get it off before the kids got home and saw it. That it happened during school hours disturbed him; it meant that the graffiti artist had likely been an adult.

  Once finished, he stopped by Dottie’s. She hadn’t seen anyone on the property. It was amazing how the woman never missed a single sliver of even the most mundane gossip, but was completely shocked to hear someone had vandalized Jason’s front door, which was perfectly visible from her kitchen window. But it wasn’t Dottie’s fault. He was mad, and looking to lay blame.

  After that, he picked up the kids and returned in time for a scheduled appointment with a client - which turned out to be nothing more than an hour-long fishing expedition for information on the Savannah Sturgess case. Wondering if she was a reporter, Jason evaded the woman’s questions, feeling as if he were on the stand at the courthouse. After she left, he racked his brain trying to recall every detail of the conversation in hopes he hadn’t said anything that would perpetuate the gossip or somehow incriminate himself.

  He made dinner, spent almost an hour convincing Amber that he wasn’t going to jail while arguing with Brent about cleaning up his dirty clothes, and at last, he went upstairs and washed the day off, imagining his anxiety swirling down the drain.

  When he stepped out of the shower, the scent of freshly-turned earth hit him immediately. His feet sank into something cold and soft.

  Dirt. What the hell?

  Several inches of it covered the floor, blocking the gap beneath the bathroom door.

  The room went cold. His breath fogged. Time slowed and he felt himself slipping into that warped sense of reality - that feeling of being disconnected from his own body. There was a sense of vertigo, and of two lives - two minds - merging into one. Buzzing static electricity saturated the air, raising every hair on his body. The room seemed darker, tinged by a grimy haze.

  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He wrapped a towel around his waist then recoiled when he touched the doorknob. It was as cold as ice and covered in a film of white frost that burned his fingertips. Throwing the bathroom door open, he stepped out and gazed down the hallway with eyes that didn’t seem entirely his own. Bare, muddy footprints led away from the bathroom.

  Without any thought, he followed them. They were small - a woman’s - and they continued in a straight line. He walked for what felt like hours - but could have only been seconds - before they abruptly ended. There was nothing to indicate the walker had veered off; the prints simply stopped, as if whoever had made them had been inexplicably beamed up into the sky.

  Jason froze, caught like a trapped rabbit in front of the tiny hall table holding the vase of white silk roses. As he stared, the flowers impossibly wilted, curled, and died, turning to ash. As they crumbled, he watched the gray dust drift to the table top.

  An owl called outside: ‘Who?’

  16

  Condemned

  “What brought you to Shadow Springs, Mr. Crandall?” Ed Gregorio’s large hands were clasped politely in front of him as he neared the witness stand.

  Jason leaned into the microphone and spoke quietly. “My wife, Julia, passed away about eight months ago. I wanted to start over and Shadow Springs looked like a nice, quiet place to raise my children and begin my new business.”

  Gregorio nodded. He was a tall, looming presence that Jason imagined would be quite intimidating under other conditions. But as it was, his size was a comfort. “And what business is that?”

  “It’s a massage therapy business. I studied massage while I was in college.”

  “That’s what you went to college for?”

  “No. I went to college for marketing, which I did for about fifteen years. I did massage therapy on the side, for extra income.”

  “And what made you decide to pursue massage therapy as a career at this time?” Gregorio gave Jason a barely perceptible nod of encouragement.

  “When my wife found out she was dying, she wanted me to use her life insurance money to start my own business.” He paused. “I think it was her way of making sure I did somethin
g that made me happy.”

  “It sounds like you had a great marriage, Mr. Crandall.”

  “We did. We were very happy.”

  In her seat, Jacqueline Winters tapped her pencil, looking impatient.

  “And how is your massage business doing? Do you see a lot of clients?”

  “So far, so good.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Was the victim, Savannah Sturgess, one of your clients?”

  Jason nodded. “She was. I met with her one time, but the session was cut short. I was only with her for perhaps fifteen minutes.”

  “Can you tell the court why the session ended so abruptly?”

  Jason tried not squirm. “A few minutes into the massage, I began to feel uncomfortable and I asked her to leave.”

  “And why did you feel uncomfortable?”

  Jason cleared his throat. He glanced up at Scott Sturgess and Flynn Garvey in the audience, wishing he were anywhere else. “She rolled onto her back and … at that point, she dropped the draping to the floor, and, uh …”

  “And the draping is …?”

  “The sheets that cover the client during the massage.”

  “I see. And she was nude beneath the sheets?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is it usual for a client to be nude?”

  “Often, yes, sir. But they remain covered up, of course.”

  “Please, continue.”

  Jason took a deep breath. “She began to masturbate,” he said into the microphone. It seemed to boom throughout the courtroom. “Then she … she told me to … to …” The words caught in his throat.

  “I realize this is very awkward for you, Mr. Crandall, but I’d like you to tell the court exactly what Savannah Sturgess told you to do. What were her words?” Another small nod of encouragement.

  “Well … she … she told me to take my penis out. My cock - those were her exact words.” Jason shifted, his hands fidgeting in his lap.