The Code of the Hills

by Nancy Allen

  The girl was about Charlene’s age and height, but at least forty pounds heavier, with fuzzy hair dyed pale pink, and a gold hoop through one nostril. She wore a scoop-­necked T-­shirt with a picture of a banana split that read, “Want a cherry?”

  “Shawna, this is Ms. Arnold from the prosecutor’s office.” Ashlock gave Elsie an inquiring look. “I was expecting you earlier.”

  “Had to see a witness over on High Street.” She pulled up a chair and gave Shawna a bright smile. “Can you all bring me up to speed on your conference? It’s Shawna, right?”

  The girl nodded. She showed no sign that she was intimidated by the presence of Ashlock or Elsie. “The cop was asking about Charlene Taney.”

  Elsie pulled out her legal pad. “Yes, we are so concerned about her. Did she confide in you?”

  Ashlock said, “Shawna was telling me that Charlene and Roy didn’t get along.”

  “Yeah. She couldn’t stand him. Said he was a piece of shit.”

  Elsie asked, “Did she talk about any specific fights? Any abuse?”

  “He was pretty much riding her all the time. Wouldn’t get off her back.”

  “But how, exactly? Can you be specific?” Elsie still wanted to pin down the black eye.

  Shawna reached for a battered purple backpack. “Just what I said. Is that clock right? I got someplace I got to be.”

  Elsie scooted her chair closer to Shawna. “Not quite yet, please. Did Charlene tell you her plans? I hope you can help us locate her.”

  With a shrug, the girl said, “Sorry. She didn’t say nothing about where she was going.” She unzipped the backpack and groped inside it.

  Ashlock spoke up. “But she did mention some plans she had in mind. Would you tell Ms. Arnold what you told me?”

  “Yeah, she’s got a fiancé.”

  Elsie thought she’d misunderstood. “Beg pardon?”

  “A fiancé. She’s getting married. I’m real happy for her, I told her so. I can’t wait to get married and get out. But my boyfriend is a total dumbass, he won’t pull the trigger. He don’t want to move out yet.”

  “Shawna, Charlene is only fifteen. She can’t get married until she’s eighteen years old. Who is this boy?” Elsie had her pen out, poised to write down the answer.

  “Her fiancé? I never met him. But they’re getting a place. I guess they’ll get married as soon as they can do it.”

  “How long have you known Charlene?”

  “Since fourth grade. That’s when me and my mom moved here.”

  “But you don’t know her boyfriend? Is he someone at Barton High?”

  “He’s not a kid. Older. Char don’t give a shit about guys our age. Not even interested.”

  Elsie digested the answer. She asked, “Did she ever say his name?”

  Shawna picked at her blue mascara before she answered. “Darren.”

  “Darren what?”

  Shawna tipped back in her chair. “The cop already asked me. She never said, I don’t think.”

  “How did she meet this guy, if it wasn’t at school?”

  “He was cruising the square on a Saturday night a while back. Char said it was cool that he got his own car. Got a real job.”

  Eagerly, Elsie asked, “Where? Where does he work?”

  “Chicken plant. Processing.”

  Elsie turned to Ashlock. “We can surely find a ‘Darren’ working at the plant.”

  Ashlock pulled his phone from his pocket as Shawna interrupted. “I don’t think it’s the one in Barton. Maybe Monett. Maybe even Springfield.”

  Deflated, Elsie frowned as her lead dissolved. “We’ll still try to follow up.” Ashlock rose and walked away to place the call.

  Elsie said, “Tell me what he looked like.”

  Shawna yawned. “I never met him, man.”

  Elsie tapped her pen on the pad of paper, thinking. “What about a picture? Or a note? Did you ever see his photo, or anything he sent her, in her bedroom at home?”

  The girl looked alarmed. “No way. I never been to her house.”

  Elsie looked up in surprise. “Never? I thought you and Charlene were friends.”

  “Yeah, we are.”

  “For how long?”

  “Forever. Since fourth grade. We were both scrubs, so we stuck together.”

  “That’s six years. In all that time, you never once set foot in her house?”

  “Lord, no. My mom would skin me.”

  “Why?”

  The girl looked at Elsie as if the answer was too obvious to state. “You know why. Nobody at school could go to the Taney house. Because of what was going on.”

  “You knew?”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Duh. It was just one of those things. Everybody knew.”

  Chapter Forty

  AT FIVE-­THIRTY THAT evening, Elsie walked into the Kinfolks diner near the courthouse, bringing the cold air with her. Tina sat in a booth in the corner, away from the wintry blast that blew each time a customer entered.

  Elsie stomped her feet on a rubber-­backed rug spread on the tiled floor and made a beeline to Tina’s booth. Sinking gratefully into the seat and struggling out of her coat, she eyed the plate in front of Tina. It was the fried chicken special, as yet untouched.

  “Damn, that looks good.”

  “Are you eating?” Tina asked.

  “I’ll wait for Ashlock,” Elsie replied. “I just left him at the high school; he’ll be by any time. You go ahead.”

  “So,” Tina said, picking up a chicken leg, “where are we?”

  Elsie answered carefully. Two days of trial preparation had passed since she’d last updated Tina. Things were shaky, she told her, but could be worse.

  “Well, I don’t see how,” Tina said with a frown. “We’ve lost four out of five counts with Charlene gone. Will you be able to find her?”

  With a stubborn set to her mouth, Elsie shook her head. “No, but all’s not lost with Charlene. Maybe. I’ve got her preliminary hearing testimony. It’s under oath. The court reporter is transcribing it right now. I’m pretty sure I’ll get it into evidence since she’s unavailable.”

  Tina asked whether the jury would convict on the evidence of an absent witness. “If she doesn’t care enough to show up, why would the jury care?”

  “Yeah, well. Reading the transcript at trial doesn’t have the same impact that Charlene would have had; you’re right about that. Hell, they may throw it out; I can’t say that they won’t. But I’m not waving the white flag yet. I had a ‘come to Jesus’ talk with Kristy, and she’s back in the fold. And she can substantiate some of the allegations involving Charlene.”

  Tina buttered her roll. “So you’ve got Kristy, you’ve got the valentine. But you’ve lost Charlene, and you’ve lost the photos.”

  “The originals of the photos,” Elsie corrected her.

  “What do you think a jury will do with this?”

  She sat back in the booth and sighed. “Lord, I don’t know.”

  “Who makes the call on punishment in this case? The judge?”

  “Taney’s not a persistent offender, so the jury will recommend the sentence.”

  “I didn’t think juries got to do sentencing anymore.”

  “We’re one of the last states that lets a jury weigh in on punishment. Unless he waives it, anyway. Taney can make a written request that the judge decide his punishment.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Elsie shrugged. “Maybe he’s worried the jury will go after him with torches and pitchforks.”

  Ashlock appeared in a snowy jacket. He hung it on the back of the booth and scooted in beside Elsie. “Who’s got a pitchfork?” he asked.

  She caught him up on their discussion about the sentencing. “It’s a bifurcated trial process,” she told Tina. “W
e put on our case in chief—­sorry, present our evidence of the crime—­for the guilt phase. Then, if the jury finds Taney guilty, we have the second stage of the trial for the jury to determine punishment.”

  Turning over the empty coffee cup on the table, Ashlock looked around for a waitress, to no avail. He turned to Elsie. “Have you got any evidence for the punishment stage?”

  She rolled her head back, exhausted. “I haven’t even had time to think about that yet. I get to offer evidence of the impact of the crime on the victims and the family. I might talk to Tiffany’s teacher. She may have some testimony I could use, about how the kid won’t talk. Tina, I may put you on in the punishment phase to give your assessment of the home life.”

  Tina swallowed a bite of mashed potatoes and said, “I’m all yours.”

  Ashlock said, “How about putting the little sister on the stand in your case in chief? Tiffany?”

  Simultaneously, both women groaned. Elsie said, “No. No! Oh, Ash, it would be a disaster. You can’t get her to say boo to a goose. I’ve tried.”

  Ashlock offered, “Would there be any benefit to letting the jury just get a look at her? To see the impact Taney has had on her?”

  “I’m telling you, she’ll flip out. She’ll hide under the chair.”

  “Maybe they should see that. It might paint a picture.”

  Elsie couldn’t bear to see Tiffany’s fear in a courtroom. “Ashlock, it would be such a gamble. Plus, I think to force her onto the stand could damage her emotionally in a big way. Tina, am I exaggerating?”

  “No,” Tina said, then continued slowly. “But I know you’ll do what you have to do, to get the defendant behind bars. Because, sweetie, you’ve got a lot riding on this. Personally.”

  Elsie rubbed her face with her hand. She was so tired that she was about to drop. She wished that Tina would back off; maybe she shouldn’t have confided in her about Madeleine’s threat. She didn’t need to be reminded that her case was going to hell, and with it, her job.

  “I’ll do anything to win this case,” she said. “But there’s no point in calling that poor screwed-­up kid to the stand.”

  She looked at Ashlock and gave him a wan smile. He patted her shoulder. “I’m going to the counter to get you a sandwich,” he said. “If we wait for ser­vice, it will be breakfast time. How about ham and cheese? With a Diet Coke?”

  “Ashlock, you’re the best,” Elsie said.

  As he walked away to order, she closed her eyes for a second and nearly fell asleep.

  She’d stayed up the better part of the night before, doing research and drafting a brief in support of her motion to submit photostatic copies of the nude Polaroids of Charlene, in lieu of the originals. She also prepared her suggestions in support of submitting preliminary hearing testimony at trial, so that Charlene’s testimony could be heard. Then, after only a ­couple of hours’ sleep, she’d spent a full day chasing down the court reporter who was working on Charlene’s transcript, running down the handwriting expert who could tie the valentine to Kris Taney, and persuading Kristy to testify, in addition to their fruitless mission at the high school. Between her witness conferences, she’d prepared the final versions of her direct examinations for trial. She still had a big task ahead; she needed to anticipate Nixon’s argument against submission of the valentine, so she’d be ready to combat it. She felt like she was pulling a heavy load from Kansas City to St. Louis.

  Tina gave her a little kick under the table that awoke her with a start. “What does Madeleine think about all this?”

  Elsie gave a short laugh. “Can you believe it? She came to my office today, not to see if I needed anything, not to offer any help, but to remind me that my job is on the line. Like I’d forget.”

  Tina didn’t respond. She fixed Elsie with a worried look. “So what did you say?”

  Elsie laughed again, a tired, mirthless sound. “Oh, I told her, I’ll win this one. Guaranteed. One hundred percent.” She wadded a napkin in her fist. “Maybe I should’ve said I’m guaranteed to lose. Closer to the truth.”

  Ashlock set a sandwich and a plastic tumbler of Diet Coke in front of Elsie. “Better eat something,” he said.

  As she bit into her sandwich, he recounted the status of the investigation into Charlene’s disappearance. After talking to Charlene’s friend, he believed Donita’s theory might have been right; Charlene had in fact talked about running off. Shawna had confirmed that a boyfriend was in the picture, and that the conflict between Charlene and Roy had escalated.

  “Probably physical abuse,” Tina said.

  “Sounds like it,” Ashlock agreed.

  “She had a black eye the last time I saw her,” Elsie said.

  Tina sighed and shook her head. “After Elsie reported the black eye, we never got the chance to investigate it; Charlene disappeared. Of course, Donita and Roy said it was an accident.”

  “Could’ve been an accident, could’ve been a boyfriend. Most likely, though, it was Mayfield,” Ashlock reasoned.

  “But do you think,” Elsie ventured, afraid to say it aloud, “it’s at all possible that Mayfield was abusing her sexually as well? Or her uncle? Like Kris Taney says?”

  Ashlock looked at her. “What do you think?”

  She was quiet for a moment. “I think,” she said in a firm voice, “I believe, that Charlene was raped and beaten by her father. She may also have been knocked around by Roy Mayfield after he became head of the household; it’s possible that she was also abused by her uncle. Shoot, it’s even possible that she gets the same treatment from her boyfriend. But the guy who’s going on trial next week is Kris Taney, and my gut tells me he’s good for it.”

  There was silence around the table.

  “Charlene. That poor kid,” said Elsie, shaking her head. A tear collected in the corner of one eye, and she didn’t blink it back fast enough. She needed to steel herself; this was no time to become emotional. It was time to don the armor.

  Ashlock handed her a paper napkin and she used it to wipe her nose. “How’s the case holding up?” he asked.

  “Going to pieces,” Tina murmured.

  Wearily, Elsie laid her cheek on her hand as she surveyed Ashlock. “I’ve got a live victim and a written admission of the defendant,” she said. “I’m going to see this through.”

  “Are you putting the mother on?” he asked dubiously.

  “Lord, I wish I didn’t have to call her. I wish her at the bottom of the sea. Donita and I aren’t getting along so hot these days. She and her boy Roy are giving me the evil eye. But I’ve got to put her on the stand to get my valentine in, and the photos. Chain of custody. Other than that, I won’t ask her a blessed thing. Lying snake.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of what she’ll say under cross-­examination?”

  “Sure. Hell yes. If I didn’t need to get that valentine into evidence, I’d skip her altogether.” Her voice took on a hopeful note. “But she’s a wild card. She’s like Pandora’s box. Nixon could easily open something up in his cross-­ex that would hurt the defense.”

  “The way your luck is going—­” Tina began, then stopped. Two pairs of steely eyes silenced her.

  Ashlock pushed the sandwich closer to Elsie. She’d put it back on the plate after one bite. “You going to eat something?” he asked.

  “Maybe in a minute. I’m so tired,” she said, and her eyes closed in spite of her.

  Tina clucked sympathetically. “She’s been working herself to death on this case. I’ve got to watch my pessimistic remarks. She could snap.”

  “I’m not asleep. I can hear you,” Elsie said, eyes still shut.

  “Do they want to plead? Have you offered him a deal?” Tina asked her. Elsie didn’t respond. Her chin dropped.

  “I think she’s out,” Tina said. “What should we do?”

  Ashlock appraised Elsie as she nodded
in the booth. “You go on. I’ll sit with her for a minute. I’ll make sure she wakes up.”

  Tina hesitated, then nodded and said, “Okay. I’ll see you in court on Monday.” She grasped her heavy coat and slipped out of the booth.

  Elsie slumped in the booth and Ashlock caught her. He gently eased her back against the seat, cushioning her head with his jacket. Then he reached out and stroked her cheek, and her face relaxed.

  Chapter Forty-­One

  ON MONDAY MORNING Elsie was ready to go. The weekend had been hellish. She’d worked nonstop on her trial preparation, had suffered insomnia and fought panic. But now that the time for trial had actually arrived, she felt relatively sane.

  Before jury selection, Josh Nixon began with a move that took Elsie by surprise. Approaching the bench, he handed the judge a sheet of paper.

  “Judge Rountree, my client has decided to waive jury sentencing.”

  Raising his eyebrows, the judge inspected the document, as Elsie hurried up to the bench to get a look at it. She knew that it was the defendant’s choice to have punishment determined by the judge rather than the jury, but she’d never seen it done.

  Turning to Nixon in astonishment, she whispered, “Why doesn’t he want the jury to decide punishment?”

  Nixon shot her a sidelong glance. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to share my client’s confidential communications with the prosecution.”

  She fell silent, but remained perplexed. Generally, defense attorneys found it far easier to fool a jury than a judge. If Nixon and Taney were afraid of what a jury might do in this case, it was a good sign for her. She warmed at the thought.

  After the judge took notice of Taney’s waiver, jury selection began. Elsie, Josh Nixon, and Judge Rountree would whittle the panel of eighty-­three prospective jurors down to an even dozen.

  Judge Rountree crowded the prospective jurors into the courtroom and placed them under oath. After the judge commenced the voir dire with general questions to establish bias, Elsie and Josh had their chance.

  Elsie’s voir dire presentation was tried and true; she made the same general pitch in every case to introduce herself to the jury, adapting the questions to the crime.