by Laura Snider
“Okay,” Rachel said. The word rasped from her throat, barely above a whisper. She stilled her movements, but her body continued to shake. Tiny, involuntary spasms.
“Are you ready?”
Rachel’s eyes popped open, and she tracked the scissors with them. Her gaze held naked fear. It filled the room, palpable in its density.
“Ready?” Ashley asked again.
This time Rachel answered. She squeezed her eyes shut again and said, “Yes.”
Ashley slid the scissors across Rachel’s hair in a quick, fluid motion, careful to slice at an angle. Long strands of hair fluttered to the floor, leaving a row of short, jagged bangs.
“Perfect,” Ashley said with a smile.
One of Rachel’s eyes opened slowly, and a few seconds later the other followed suit. She looked down at the pile of hair, her expression smooth and unperturbed.
Next, Ashley pulled out a makeup kit and dabbed a mixture of dark purple and deep gray under Rachel’s eyes.
“In the next couple of weeks, I’d like you to try to limit your sleep.”
Rachel nodded. “Kylie gave me some books to read.”
“Good,” Ashley said, then stepped back and admired her handiwork. “It’s better, but you’re still too pretty. There isn’t much we can do about that now. Maybe a bad dye job will help. I’ll have to run it by Kylie first, though. I can’t imagine the jail will like me bringing chemicals into their facility.”
“May I?” Rachel reached for the scissors, her voice tentative but determined.
“I really shouldn’t,” Ashley said, looking down at the twin blades.
Scissors were sharp and dangerous. A weapon. But Ashley knew that Rachel wasn’t going to hurt her. She had years of experience with criminal defendants and could sense danger like a drug dog could sniff out cocaine. This girl didn’t have an aggressive bone in her body. If Rachel wanted to cut her own hair, who was Ashley to stand in the way?
“Okay,” she said, handing the scissors to Rachel.
Rachel’s long, elegant fingers encircled the handle, and she brought the scissors to her unblemished ivory cheek, pressing down hard enough to draw blood.
“Whoa.” Ashley pulled the scissors from Rachel’s hand. “What’s wrong with you? Why would you hurt yourself?”
Tears welled in Rachel’s eyes. She had always seemed small, but she shrank further into herself, a beautiful girl lost in a world full of cruelty.
“You said I was too pretty…” She paused, tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s not my hair. It’s my face.” She gasped, choking on her sobs.
It was Rachel’s first display of emotion, and it caught Ashley off guard. Ashley’s jaw dropped and her mind grappled for the right words to say, but her thoughts moved sluggishly. Much like they had over the past couple days. It was like a deep fatigue had settled into her body and mind.
“You’re right. I am too pretty. It’s always been the problem. I don’t want to be pretty. I want scars.” Her stony exterior had dissipated, devoured by blind desperation. “All over my face.” Rachel beckoned for the scissors.
Ashley cradled them against her chest and took another step backward. “I’m sorry, but I won’t. I didn’t mean it so, so…literally.”
Rachel dropped to the ground, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. Tears streamed down her face, making tracks through Ashley’s carefully applied makeup. “It doesn’t matter what you meant. It’s the truth. I don’t want to look like this anymore.”
Ashley watched Rachel, too stunned to say anything. This poor, broken girl. So many women would sell their soul to have a face like that, yet for Rachel, it had been a curse. What had happened as a result of that curse, Ashley didn’t know. But she guessed it had something to do with that baby found in hotel room 101.
Ashley crouched beside Rachel. “Hey, hey, hey,” she said, gathering the bawling girl into her arms and dabbing at the blood on her cheek with a Kleenex.
Rachel sank into Ashley’s embrace. It wasn’t the first time Ashley had seen a client teetering on the edge of despair, but Rachel’s raw emotions were more intense than most.
“Shhhh,” Ashley said, rocking back and forth. “Shhhh, now. You’re safe. Everything is going to be all right.” The words tumbled from Ashley’s mouth, but she didn’t know if they were true.
Slowly, ever so gradually, Rachel’s tears subsided, and she was able to sit back and wipe her eyes. As she did, she looked down at her hands, streaked with blueish-purple eyeshadow.
“Oh, no,” she said. “I ruined it.”
“It’s fine, Rachel.” Ashley helped the girl to her feet. “It wasn’t that convincing anyway. Besides”—she gestured toward Rachel’s blotchy, tear-stained face—“this is better.”
A small, almost imperceptible smile flashed at the corners of Rachel’s lips. Then the door flew open and Kylie stepped into the small room to retrieve Ashley and Rachel. It was showtime.
“Are you ready for your arraignment?” Ashley asked, placing both hands on Rachel’s shoulders and looking her square in the eye.
Rachel’s dusty brown eyes were slick with unshed tears and red-rimmed from crying. She nodded, a small, almost undetectable bob of the head.
“You’ll be fine,” Kylie said, twirling her key ring around her finger. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Kylie was young, in her mid-twenties. Short and strongly built. She had a deep, booming voice that could sound almost severe, but Ashley had known her since her first day as a jailer. Back then, she had been tentative. Her demeanor changed as she gained more experience on the job. These days she was a force to be reckoned with. Intimidating, but kind at heart. Ashley had no doubt that Kylie would make good on her promise.
“There are a lot of reporters out there…” Kylie’s voice trailed off when she saw Rachel. Her eyes darted from Rachel’s bangs, to Ashley, then to the floor, where heavy chunks of hair lay spread out like a platoon of dead soldiers. “I see you’ve been working on your appearance. It, um”—she cleared her throat—“looks nice.”
Ashley laughed and tucked the scissors into her laptop bag. “Don’t lie. It’s supposed to look bad.”
“You’re right. It looks terrible. You okay with it, kid?”
Rachel smiled. A quick flash of teeth and crinkle at the corners of the eyes, but it was enough to light up the room. “Yes.”
“What happened to your face?” Kylie asked, staring pointedly at the small cut on Rachel’s cheek.
“Nothing,” Rachel said in her small voice.
Kylie’s gaze swung to Ashley, who only shrugged. She trusted Kylie, but she had no intention of telling her about Rachel’s breakdown.
“Let’s get you over to the courthouse. I hate to do this, but…” Kylie held up Rachel’s shackles. “I have to chain your feet and hands. The prosecutor is worried you are going to run.”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “He would.”
There was nowhere for Rachel to run. Charles Hanson, of all people, should know that. Rachel was public enemy number one. Not just within the state of Iowa, but nationally. If she ran, she’d likely find herself on the business end of a shotgun followed by two bullets and a shallow grave. Rachel was far safer in jail than anywhere else.
It only took Kylie a few minutes to attach Rachel’s chains. The girl shivered when the cold steel touched her skin, but otherwise remained still throughout the process. Then they were off to the courthouse.
The shackles made it difficult for Rachel to walk, each step more of a shuffle. Ashley stayed on one side while Kylie took the other, each gently taking the young girl’s arms, steadying her. They took an elevator down to the first floor, pausing just before the doors that led to the outside world.
“Are you ready for this?” Kylie asked Rachel.
Rachel sucked in a deep breath and turned to Ashley. A sheen of tears sparkled in her eyes.
Ashley felt for the girl, but there was no way to shield her from this. “We are going to have to fac
e the cameras sooner or later. Keep your head down. I’ll try to block you as much as I can from this side. Kylie will do the same from her end.”
Ashley paused to look at Kylie, who nodded.
“We just need to get through this crowd and to the courthouse. Whatever you do, don’t say anything to any reporters. Okay?”
Rachel nodded and bit her bottom lip.
Kylie placed her hand on the door. “It’ll be like ripping off a Band-Aid. One. Two. Three.” She shoved the door with one strong arm, and it flew open.
Light stung Ashley’s eyes. She blinked several times and focused on the path between the jail and the courthouse. There were so many people. All of them shouting. Cameras flashed with blinding light. Several rookie police officers stood in the middle of the path, making way for the jailer, defendant, and attorney. Ashley took several steps, then noticed a wetness below her nose, trickling down toward her mouth. Instinctively, she reached up, touched her face, and looked at her fingers. They were red with blood.
“Shit,” she said as she leaned forward and held her free hand under her nose. She didn’t know the cause. Maybe it was the dry late autumn air. Maybe it was stress.
“Are you okay?” Kylie said, peering over Rachel’s head, concern evident in the furrow of her brow.
“Yeah. I just need to find a Kleenex.”
Ashley stopped, swung her laptop bag around, and dug until she found a tissue. She pressed it to her nose and nodded to Kylie that she was ready to continue. She knew there would be some unfortunate photographs and even more unfortunate rumors circulating around Brine after the images hit the evening news, but there was little Ashley could do about it.
The three women moved slowly, methodically through the crowd of press and local gawkers. It was pandemonium. Everyone jostling toward the front to get a good look at Rachel, who they believed to be a sadistic killer. Reporters shouted questions as they held their microphones out toward Rachel. Everyone talked at once. Their words twisted together, turning into a garbled roar of noise. The onslaught seemed to go on forever, but all they needed to do was cross the street.
Moments later, they were through the courthouse doors. With a whoosh, the heavy doors slammed shut behind them, instantly muffling the sound of the crowd. Ashley issued a heavy sigh of relief as a hush fell over the three women. She’d never been so relieved to be inside a courthouse. Then they made their way up the stairs to the second-floor courtroom, which would no doubt be full of onlookers and even more cameras.
5
Rachel
They walked. Kylie to her left, Ashley to her right. Like a Salem witch on her way to the gallows. A long walk toward a short drop. The chains around her feet and hands weighed her down, dragging behind her. They clinked and jangled, growing heavier with each step. A burden. A punishment.
Kylie held Rachel by the arm, firm but not rough. Her hands were calloused, scratching against Rachel’s skin as she tugged her along. At Rachel’s other side, Ashley was less solid. A small woman who carried herself with confidence that Rachel had never seen in a female. There was a naked power in Ashley’s strides. She guided Rachel along, gliding across the floor as though walking upon water. Ashley was not pretty, but she was striking. Handsome, almost, but in a softer way than men.
“Right through here,” Kylie said, pulling Rachel out of her thoughts. Kylie’s hand rested on the courtroom door. “You ready?”
Rachel swallowed hard and nodded. She was not ready, but she didn’t know how to properly express herself. She’d never had the opportunity.
The courtroom door swung open and the three women took several shuffling steps inside. Two male police officers stood stiffly just inside the doorway, their arms at their sides and their backs straight.
Rachel did not make eye contact with them as she passed, but she could feel their gazes roving over her body, taking what they could. They knew they held power over her, and they weren’t inherently good. Not like children were led to believe. They were men. Like every other man, they were crude, needy, angry, and aggressive. If they had met her in another way, they would treat her in the same way as that other officer.
Kylie and Ashley guided Rachel forward, passing the gallery packed with onlookers. Rachel wasn’t fazed, at least not until she saw them. The woman—mother—would not look at Rachel. But the man glared at her in that characteristic way. Those eyes that held her like a possession. A piece of property. A disobedient animal in need of breaking.
Rachel’s heart banged against her chest and her gaze darted to the floor. The attorney, jailer, and defendant continued forward. All eyes were on Rachel. She could feel the intensity of the gazes slithering along her skin. A hush had fallen over the crowd, leaving the courtroom silent aside from the clink of Rachel’s chains.
When the group neared the front of the courtroom, Rachel heard the familiar clearing of a throat. A deep rumbling of phlegm coming up and then back down. Out of instinct, her eyes darted up. And there he was. Mr. Frank, the school guidance counselor. The man who watched her as she made her way through the school hallways. Calculating. Considering.
Rachel’s mind froze and her knees locked, unable to move. It was too much. She thought she could do this, but she couldn’t.
“One step at a time,” Kylie murmured into her ear. It was a kindly cooing, like she was talking to a newborn baby. “It will be okay.”
Rachel allowed Kylie and Ashley to lead her past a small barrier—a short railing that separated the gawkers from the lawyers. In that moment, Rachel believed Kylie. That she would be okay. The men were out there, behind those barriers, and she, Rachel, was surrounded by two strong women. Those men would never get their hands on her again. She was safe.
Ashley guided Rachel to the defense table and pulled her seat out for her. Rachel thanked Ashley and sat down. Chivalry was not dead after all. Kylie pulled up a chair and sat behind Rachel. It was meant to look like Kylie was her keeper, but Rachel was grateful to have one more body separating her from the outside world.
“All rise,” a man in all black shouted from the back of the courtroom.
The chains made it hard for Rachel to stand, but Ashley helped her struggle to her feet. They stood side by side in solidarity.
“You may be seated,” the judge said as he strutted into the courtroom. His black robe billowed behind him, like Lord Voldemort.
The benches creaked as the onlookers sat back down.
“We are convened today in Brine County case number FECR015987, State of Iowa vs. Rachel Smithson,” the judge said in a booming voice. He was tall and wiry with a hooked nose and a thinning head of gray hair. His sharp blue eyes darted around the room like a bird.
“Today is the date set for arraignment. Are the parties ready to proceed? Mr. Hanson?” The judge’s gaze shifted toward the prosecutor.
“Yes, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said in a silky voice.
“Ms. Montgomery?” The judge’s eagle eyes settled on Ashley.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“I presume you are the defendant, Rachel Smithson,” the judge said, his words echoing throughout the cavernous room.
Rachel did not look at him. She knew better than to meet a powerful man’s gaze. “Yes,” she said in her meekest, most deferential tone.
“What was that?” the judge said.
“Yes.” Rachel tried to speak up.
The judge leaned forward and placed a hand behind his ear. “I’m old and hard of hearing. You’re going to have to speak up.”
“She said, ‘yes,’ Your Honor,” Ashley said.
The tightness in Rachel’s chest—the feeling that came when she had done something disappointing—eased. She wondered how Ashley could take such an authoritative tone, especially with a man who clearly held power over her.
The judge cleared his throat. “Rachel Smithson, you are charged by Trial Information with two counts. Count one, murder in the first degree, and count two, child endangerment causing death. Both are Cl
ass A felonies punishable by life imprisonment.”
Life in prison did not bother Rachel. It was life outside of prison that had been the problem.
“How do you plead to these charges?”
Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t bring herself to form the word “not” before the “guilty.” For she had done what was alleged. She had a baby. That baby was dead. It was her fault.
“She pleads not guilty on all counts,” Ashley said.
“Do you waive formal reading of the indictment?” the judge asked.
“Yes. And we demand speedy trial.”
“Very well,” Judge Ahrenson said with a disapproving grunt.
It was all gibberish to Rachel. She just wanted out of that courtroom. Away from the intense gazes that cut through her skin and straight to her soul. Rachel tucked into herself like she always did when she wanted to disappear, allowing her mind to go blank. To forget all that was around her. All that she had done. Erase the lack of weight in her belly. The emptiness that tiny body left inside her.
The judge banged his gavel and Rachel flinched.
The hearing was over, and Ashley and Kylie ushered her past the crowd. This time the faces blended together, merging from the many to one huge mass. It was disconcerting and comforting at the same time. For she did not see the judgment, the accusations. She did not have to remember her past, the one created by the men in her life. She hoped that she would never see any of them again, but her wishes rarely, if ever, came true.
6
Ashley
The cameras followed Ashley and Kylie as they steered Rachel out of the courtroom, trying to catch every movement, every expression. Footage for talking heads to analyze later in the day. Undoubtedly, Rachel’s haircut would be a topic of conversation. But that was better than the alternative, an unending onslaught of condemnation of the mother who did the unthinkable.
Ashley was careful to stick close to Rachel, shoulder to shoulder. Partially to assist her in maneuvering in those damned chains, but also for another, larger reason. Solidarity. She wanted people to see that they were a team. That Rachel was a girl. Human. Just like everyone else.
