by Laura Snider
“Don’t tell him I said this,” Katie said, pulling Ashley out of her thoughts, “but give George some hell in that deposition. He deserves it.”
“Thanks,” Ashley said.
Ashley turned Katie’s words over in her mind as she got into her Tahoe and started the engine. A statement like that meant something coming from Katie. Was it possible that the officer was coming round to Ashley’s way of thinking?
When Ashley arrived in Brine, she drove straight to the jail. Rachel looked better than ever. The teenager had put on some weight. She wasn’t round by any stretch of the imagination, but she was no longer skeletal, and her cheeks finally had some color.
“You look great,” Ashley said as they made their way down the hall and into the room designated for depositions.
“Took you long enough,” George said as Rachel and Ashley were buzzed into the room. He and Charles Hanson were already seated at the table, both looking disgruntled.
“Yes,” Charles said, tapping his watch. “You said ten.”
“I came here straight from the hospital, you jackasses. And it’s only 10:10.” Ashley had no patience for their patronizing bullshit.
“Jackass?” Charles said, pushing his chair back with a screech and shooting to his feet.
“Oh, don’t get your tighty-whities in a knot,” Ashley said, waving a dismissive hand.
Charles did not sit back down. He glared at Ashley through intense gray eyes.
“Are we going to stand around arguing all day or are we going to do this? Come on, Charles, time is money, right?”
Charles grunted noncommittally, but he did lower himself back into his seat.
“All right,” Ashley said, clapping her hands together. “Are we ready to go on the record?”
The court reporter nodded and swore George in. Ashley dove straight into the questioning.
“Good morning, George.”
“I wouldn’t call it good.”
So that’s how this is going to go, Ashley thought. George was already on edge. A positive sign. “It sounds like you want to skip the niceties.”
“Yeah.”
“We can do that.” Ashley cracked her knuckles and leaned forward. “You interviewed my client, Rachel Smithson, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And in that interview, Rachel told you several times that she did not murder her child, right?”
“She also said the opposite.”
“No. She didn’t. She agreed with the opposite.”
“I don’t remember it that way.”
Ashley rifled in her bag and pulled out a stack of papers, shuffling through the documents until she found the one she was looking for. It was a transcription of Rachel’s interview. Ashley skipped to a page she’d previously flagged near the end of the transcript.
Ashley cleared her throat dramatically, then began reading. “You asked Rachel, and I quote, ‘you put your baby face down in the bathtub, didn’t you?’” Ashley looked up, meeting George’s furious gaze. “Did you say those words?”
“If that’s what the transcript says.”
“I’m not asking what the transcript says. I’m asking what you said. Did you say those words?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Ashley turned her attention to the next line on the transcript. “Then you asked Rachel if she turned the water on, right?”
“Yes.”
“You asked her if she plugged the drain, correct?”
“I did.”
Ashley set the transcript down and tapped it with her finger. “Do you see any problem with your line of questioning?”
“No.”
“It doesn’t bother you that Rachel didn’t volunteer any of these alleged facts?”
“No. It doesn’t matter if she volunteered them. She agreed with them.”
“But her agreement was never more than the word ‘yes,’ was it?”
“That’s right. But she did agree with me.”
“But she never offered any details of her own, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay.” Ashley pulled another document from her bag and placed it on top of the transcript. “Have you had an opportunity to review the medical examiner’s report in this case?”
“Objection,” Charles Hanson interrupted.
Ashley looked up, cocking an eyebrow.
“Have you seen the medical examiner’s report, Ashley?”
“Why, Mr. Hanson, I have it right here.” She waved the copy of the report in the air. “Thank you for your concern, though. I’m sure you were planning on sending it to me right away.” Her words dripped with sarcasm.
Charles’s face reddened.
“Now, Detective Thomanson, please answer my question. Have you seen the medical examiner’s report?”
“No.”
“Do you know the cause of death?”
“Yes. The baby drowned.”
Ashley slid the report across the table to George. “What I’m showing you has been marked as deposition exhibit 1. This is a copy of the medical examiner’s report. Can you point out the cause of death listed on that document?”
George paused for a long moment, studying the report. Then he looked up and shook his head.
“Is that a no?” Ashley motioned to the court reporter at the end of the table. “This isn’t your first rodeo, George. You have to answer out loud. You know the court reporter can’t take down head movements.”
“It’s a no.”
“The medical examiner’s report says that no water was found in the lungs, right?”
“Yes.”
“Which means that the child wasn’t breathing when, or if, he was ever placed in the water, right?”
“It could mean that.”
He was in denial. Ashley expected this. “Well, when someone drowns, they typically have water in their lungs, don’t they?”
“Umm…”
“And you are claiming this baby drowned, aren’t you? I mean, that’s what you were getting at when you made my client admit to placing her baby face down in the bathtub, right?”
“I didn’t make your client do anything.”
“Debatable,” Ashley said, but she wasn’t going to hash out all the ways he’d screwed up the interview, including his failure to provide Rachel medical attention. She’d save that for the motion to suppress hearing.
“She could have killed him before placing him in the bathtub. He was completely dependent on her. She could have smothered him first.”
“Now, George. You know as well as I do that ‘could have’ is not evidence. Any number of things ‘could have’ happened. But bathtub drowning is what you have alleged. You have no proof that Rachel killed the baby in any other way, do you?”
“Umm.”
“The medical examiner’s report actually lists cause of death as ‘undetermined,’ doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“So, it’s very plausible that Rachel gave birth to a stillborn baby in that hotel room. Meaning the baby was never alive, right?”
“No.”
“No?” George was digging in his heels. Full-fledged denial. “Well, there’s as much evidence to support that conclusion as there is to support the opposite, right?”
“No.”
This line of questioning wasn’t going anywhere.
“So, your position is that my client killed her baby in some way, although nobody is quite sure how she did it?”
“No. My position is that Rachel drowned the baby like she said.”
“Can you prove the baby was born alive?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Rachel admitted that he cried. A stillborn baby doesn’t cry.”
“Ahh, yes, George. That was another thing Rachel agreed to, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“But she didn’t agree to it until after you started yelling at her, did she?”
“I never yelled at her.”
“Okay, fine
. Then after you raised your voice.”
“I never raised my voice.”
“Would you agree that the video recording is the best evidence as to the volume and tone of your voice during your questioning of Rachel?”
George gritted his teeth.
“Would you agree, Detective?”
“Yes.”
Ashley nodded. She had gotten the information that she needed out of George. There was no need to drag the deposition out any longer. “That’s all the questions I have for today. Thank you, George,” Ashley said with a Cheshire-cat grin. “I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
27
Rachel
53 days before trial
Aside from the time she spent in the hospital, Ashley had kept to her promise to visit Rachel every day. Jail didn’t bother Rachel. Her incarceration was not the reason she cared about the number of times Ashley visited. She cared because Ashley had made a promise, and Rachel had never known adults to keep their promises.
You are in a safe place, the school counselor had said. That was a lie.
I will take care of you, her mother had claimed. Lie.
He will not touch you again, said the policeman. Lie.
I will help you. That was the worst kind of falsehood. It came from strangers Rachel thought, once upon a time, could orchestrate her escape. It, too, turned out to be a lie. Especially when it came from cops or child protective services.
“Good morning, Rachel,” Ashley said, bringing Rachel out of her memories.
“Morning.”
Rachel never said anything was good. Especially when it was, in fact, good. All good things could be taken. Labeling anything as such was like blowing out all your birthday candles and promptly telling everyone what you had wished for.
“How are you?”
Rachel shrugged. “I’m reading To Kill a Mockingbird.”
It was her way of telling Ashley she was just fine without jinxing it. Because, honestly, who could be unhappy while reading.
“I love that book,” Ashley said. “I always saw a bit of Scout in myself. Or at least I try to be a bit like her.”
Rachel nodded, but she couldn’t quite understand the sentiment. She’d never had the luxury of wishing to be anything other than herself.
“Well,” Ashley said, clapping her hands together, pulling Rachel out of her thoughts. “Shall we?”
Rachel cocked her head, confused.
“Your motion to suppress hearing is today.”
“Right,” Rachel said.
At that moment, Kylie came down the hallway, dragging Rachel’s chains behind her. She unlocked Rachel’s cell door, and Rachel spread her legs and stuck out her hands. A few moments later she was a whole lot heavier and they were on their way to the courthouse.
The moment the three women stepped outside, they were assaulted by cameras flashing and reporters shouting. Rachel could feel both Kylie and Ashley stiffen, but she didn’t mind the reporters. It was just noise. They couldn’t hurt her. Nobody could anymore.
The motion to suppress hearing started at ten o’clock sharp. The prosecutor, a slippery-looking man with a pinched face, barely made it on time. Ashley chuckled as he darted into the courtroom, frazzled and breathing heavily.
“Judge Ahrenson won’t like his tardiness. He tends to run a tight ship,” Ashley whispered to Rachel.
Rachel studied the judge from the corner of her eye. Ashley was right, he didn’t look happy.
“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Hanson,” Judge Ahrenson said, peering over the bench like a hawk eyeing his prey.
“Yes, sorry, Judge.”
“Is the prosecution ready to proceed?”
“Umm, yes,” Mr. Hanson said, dropping into his chair. His chest heaved as he mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
“How about you, Ms. Montgomery? Are you ready to go on the record?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Ashley’s voice rang out across the room, poised and clear as a bell.
Rachel was in awe of the attorney. How had she learned to speak like that—with no fear and absolute composure—to a man of such power? If Rachel had been given a different lot in life, she would have wanted to grow up to be like Ashley.
But God had seen fit to punish her. If there truly was a God. There was a time in her life when she had been a believer, but that was long ago. Back before her body changed and men started seeing her as a woman rather than a pretty little girl. No, she did not believe in a higher power. If one did exist, he had abandoned her. Yet another man letting her down.
“Call your first witness,” Judge Ahrenson said, catching Rachel’s attention. He was speaking to Mr. Hanson, but the chill in his tone sent a shiver up her spine.
The prosecutor stood. “The State calls Detective George Thomanson to the stand.”
A man stood from somewhere near the back of the courtroom and approached the front. Rachel recognized him from her interrogation. He and another woman had conducted the interview. It felt like a good cop/ bad cop routine, except the woman had stayed silent, leaving Rachel alone with the bad cop.
“Turn back around,” Ashley whispered. “And don’t make eye contact with anyone in the gallery.”
Rachel obeyed. She didn’t want to resist. Lots of people were there to watch the hearing. Every empty space was filled, but Rachel hadn’t studied any of their faces. She was too fearful of what she’d see. The judgmental downturn of her mother’s lips. The possessive control in her father’s eyes. The school counselor’s need for her attention. At one time, she’d had no other choice than to give them what they wanted. But not anymore. Her chains had freed her of their demands.
The detective passed between the prosecution and defense tables and stopped in front of the judge.
“Please raise your right hand.”
George raised his left hand, then chuckled and switched to his right.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help you?”
“I swear.”
“Have a seat,” Judge Ahrenson said, motioning to the witness stand.
The detective sat down, and Mr. Hanson began his questioning. They eased in by talking about Detective Thomanson’s training, then switched to his interview of Rachel. As the topic grew closer to Rachel’s statements about what had occurred in that hotel room, her mind began to wander. Past the words she had said and back to her memories of that time.
She had planned it all out—what she would say to the cops—well before that interview had started. But she’d failed to account for the amount of pain that remained after giving birth. Nobody ever talked about that. People described the pain as sudden, urgent, and then gone. That hadn’t happened with Rachel. She remembered searing agony. So much that she couldn’t think. There was this fogginess in her head. Later she learned from the doctor that it was due to blood loss, but she hadn’t known that at the time.
All she remembered were the endless rounds of questions. The same things asked in different ways over and over again. Hours of questions, all while she was in pain. She didn’t complain, though. She knew better. Men did not like complaints. It would only result in something worse happening to her. The only way out of her pain was to wait for the man to leave and to ask the silent woman for help.
After an eternity, Rachel finally had decided that she would simply agree with the man. Her mind could not conjure up her original story, no matter how hard she tried. It simply would not work, and she needed this thing to end. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember how she claimed to have “killed” the baby. Not that it mattered. Ultimately, she ended up where she had intended.
Movement around Rachel pulled her out of her thoughts. People were all standing, and Ashley was tugging on her arm so she would do the same. Judge Ahrenson stood and exited the courtroom through a door behind his bench. The hearing was over and Rachel hadn’t paid attention to any of it.
“That went well,” Ashley said, smiling broadly. Despite her palpable excitement, Ashle
y looked tired.
“Do you feel okay?” Rachel asked.
She didn’t care about the hearing. Both Kylie and Ashley had warned her that the suppression of the video was a longshot. Not because it was a weak motion, but because of the seriousness of the allegations. No judge wanted to be responsible for releasing a baby murderer. Rachel fully expected the judge to deny the motion, and she was perfectly fine with that.
“Just tired,” Ashley said. “I guess I should have listened to the doctor when she told me to take it easy.”
A tiny nagging thought dug at the back of Rachel’s mind. She tried to ignore it, but it burrowed in, like a hookworm through its host’s foot. “Do you, umm, know how you got sick?”
Ashley nodded, then shook her head. “Apparently rat poison. I guess someone wants me dead.”
Rachel froze. “Do you know who gave it to you?”
“Not yet, but they will figure it out.” Ashley studied Rachel for a long moment. “It’s not something that you need to worry about, Rachel. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Now this was a promise that Rachel knew Ashley may not be able to keep. For she had her own suspicions. If he had anything to do with it, he would not stop until he got what he wanted.
“Be careful.”
“I will,” Ashley said, but Rachel knew better.
No woman was safe from him.
28
Katie
45 days before trial
It was Friday, the last day of Katie’s employment with the Brine Police Department. Her heart was heavy as she looked around the cubicle that had been her second home over the past six years. It was no longer hers, or it wouldn’t be in another hour. She didn’t recognize it now that she’d taken down and boxed up her things. The walls were barren, the computer screen dark.
Katie didn’t know what she would do next. Where she would work. Who she was meant to become. Ashley had said that her termination was an opportunity to do bigger things with her life. Whatever those things were, they hadn’t yet surfaced. When they did—if they did—they most certainly would require her to move. Her relationship with Brine had been love-hate, but it was the first place that had ever felt like home to her. She wasn’t eager to leave.
