Hostile Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  “He didn’t mean twenty-four hours a day.” Linda complained.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Well, that’s ridiculous. She’s in the middle of nowhere without a car. You know, there are things I absolutely have to do and that’s just the way it is.”

  “Like what? Sneaking out to see your husband?”

  Linda stiffened and grabbed her glass. She drank deep and then hesitated. Slowly the glass came down. She put it on the table and kept her eyes on it for a minute as if suddenly realizing it wasn’t the answer to anything.

  “No. Like walking away to see a friend,” Linda said quietly.

  “Christ, Linda,” Josie breathed.

  “No. I mean it. Don’t sound like that. This isn’t some kind of game,” Linda insisted, uncomfortable with her confession. “Look, I don’t know about you but not a lot has changed since college. We were never very good at making friends.”

  “I was too busy studying,” Josie reminded her.

  “I was too busy chasing after the next guy,” Linda said. “Now I’m alone. I’ve never been alone before. Kip hasn’t called. He won’t come to see me. All the women I used to know are steering clear until they see how this plays out. Jesus, Josie, I’m not made of stone. I needed someone to talk to.”

  “It’s not like you to feel sorry for yourself,” Josie said.

  “I’m not. I’m lonely, Josie, and I’ve been that way for a long time.”

  “Then just imagine how Hannah feels.”

  Linda sighed and closed her eyes; her free hand went to her forehead.

  “I’ve spent a lifetime imagining how Hannah feels.” The hand came down. Linda looked bleary eyed and sad, but Josie imagined it was the liquor. This may be the first time she had ever seen Linda Rayburn drunk. “Don’t you think I know exactly what kind of mother I’ve been? I was too young to have a baby and I made Hannah grow up too fast. Maybe I thought she was going to be my built in friend. I didn’t know how to be a mother. You were the smart one. You never had a kid. Women like us shouldn’t have children.”

  The glass was up again. Josie watched her drink, unsure of what to say. She had been ready for a fight, ready to defend her strategy. She was off her stride now that Linda had asked for her friendship.

  “You want to know something?” Linda leaned across the table. “I thought raising Hannah was about feeding her and putting clothes on her back until she was eighteen. But it’s more than that. It wasn’t until this happened that I realized I really loved my girl. I really, really do and that’s the real hard part.”

  “Then why are you fighting to sell her out, Linda?” Josie interrupted. “Why are you taking chances with her freedom now? You’re not stupid. You know Norris wanted you with Hannah twenty-four seven. Do you want her to go back in prison?”

  “Who’s going to tell Norris that I took a little R & R? You? I don’t think so.” Linda sighed. “See, that is the funny thing. You like Hannah better than you like me, so you’re willing to protect her more than me. That’s not right. You were my friend first. Maybe I need you now.”

  “Don’t do that, Linda. Don’t use people, especially not Hannah,” Josie said wearily. “It isn’t about who I like or don’t like, it’s about the rules.”

  “I’m tired of rules,” Linda cried, her eyes filling up again. “You don’t know what it’s been like. Every time I try to play by rules I get smashed into the ground. You know, I really loved Hannah’s father and I tried to be good for him. Where did it get me? Beaten up and kicked around. So then I started sleeping around and having some fun and you know what it got me? Good times, nice things, money, beaten up, and kicked around. Then I met Kip and you know what that got me? Every damn thing I ever wanted: someone who needed me, nice things, and a good home for me and my kid. He loved me back. He needed me.”

  Linda motioned for another drink. The bartender nodded. Josie caught Archer’s eye for an instant, and Josie knew how lucky she was. They were silent as Linda was served, the empty glass taken away. Linda held onto it.

  “Now it’s all going away. Kip doesn’t live with me. The Governor isn’t sure if he wants to appoint him to the bench. You’re running around trying to prove Fritz was a sick son of a bitch. And he was. I don’t doubt he was. But Jesus, Josie, it’s over. He’s dead. He’s dead and everything was going to be okay until you did that to Kip. God, Josie, don’t you see. What you do to him, or to Hannah, you do to me. I thought we were friends. I really need you to be my friend.”

  “I am your friend. I’m trying to save your daughter.”

  “How? By sacrificing my husband?”

  “If that’s what it takes. If that’s where the truth is.”

  “You don’t care what the truth is.” Linda’s fist pounded lightly on the table. The little candle flickered and jumped. “You just want to prove you can get Hannah off the way you got that other woman off. You didn’t care what the truth was then either.”

  Linda turned her head but Archer was right there, boxing her in. She didn’t like the direct hit of his gaze so she swung her head back in time to see a shadow cross Josie’s face.

  Linda picked up her cigarettes and tapped one out. She tried her lighter but it wouldn’t catch. Opening her purse she pulled out a box of matches. The flame flared, illuminating the middle of her face. She blew out the flame, tossed the match into the ashtray and pulled in the smoke hard, letting it out at her leisure. Her head was back, her hair hung past her shoulders. The smoke wafted toward the ceiling. She watched the smoke, Josie watched her. It was illegal to smoke in a restaurant in Los Angeles County. No one stopped her. No one ever stopped a beautiful woman from doing anything.

  “You’re not sure about Hannah, are you?” Linda chuckled, but it was an ugly sound. “Oh, God, all this time I’m thinking I’m a little off here, but it’s you. You started something you’re going to finish, no matter who you hurt, and still you’re not sure that Hannah didn’t do it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “No, no,” Linda insisted, pushing across the table, her cigarette held high. “You’ve been thinking what I’ve been thinking. What if you’re wrong about Hannah and she’s like that woman you got off. The one who killed her kids after your defended her.”

  “This is nothing like that. Nothing,” Josie insisted.

  Linda ground out her cigarette.

  “Maybe it is. Maybe Hannah’s got you fooled the same way that lady did. Maybe you’re going to screw up Kip’s life and mine and send Hannah home and. . .”

  Josie got up. Her chair toppled. She reached back to get it. Linda’s eyes narrowed. Her jaw tightened. She grabbed for Josie. Her face tipped up, her long neck looked like alabaster in the dim light, her eyes like jewels. “For once in your life, think about other people instead of what you want.”

  “No one else matters but Hannah,” Josie said in a whisper. “Why isn’t that crystal clear to you?”

  “Because life is more complicated than that, and you know it better than anyone.” Linda pushed her case, her fingers digging into Josie’s arm. Linda was a strong woman. “You had tunnel vision with that Davis woman, too. That woman wasn’t what she said she was. You got her off, and then she turned around and killed her children. I saw some pictures. Those children looked like sleeping angels, didn’t they? All covered up with white sheets, their arms crossed over their chests. Their hair so light against the pillows”

  Josie yanked away but Linda spoke in a frantic whisper. Her voice mesmerized Josie.

  “And when they pulled those sheets back those little children had no bodies, did they Josie? Their mother had slit them open and taken everything out just to see if she could. No other reason.”

  “I don’t need to hear this. It has nothing to do with Hannah,” Josie shot back.

  “It has everything to do with Hannah, and me, and Kip,” Linda growled, half rising. “Only this time it could be the daughter doing it to the mother. That woman used a knife to do her dirty work. Hanna
h lit a fire. In the end it’s all the same, though, isn’t it? People die horrible, gruesome deaths because there are horribly, sick people out there who aren’t held accountable.”

  Josie was listening but all she could see was Linda’s lips curling around words she couldn’t understand.

  “I guess what I want to know is why haven’t you learned anything, Josie? Why don’t you err on the side of caution? Do you want to see me like Fritz? Do you want to see my legs burned black and know my lungs were seared. . .”

  “It would never happen.”

  Josie straightened. She could feel Archer watching her, ready to come to her rescue. But who could rescue her from memories, possibilities, and visions?

  “Don’t ruin me, Josie. Don’t ruin my family. Don’t make a mistake that might harm all of us. Send Hannah where she belongs. Get her help, Josie. Help me.”

  Josie closed her eyes, trying to banish the thought that Linda could be right. Her knees were weak, her breathing shallow. Maybe it wasn’t Hannah who needed defending, but those around her. Josie opened her eyes, suddenly exhausted. Her lips parted but no sound came out. Linda, was looking at her, purse in hand, ready to leave, but needing to share one last thought.

  “None of us really knows what the right thing to do is, Josie. I just came here tonight because I needed a friend. I guess I didn’t find one. If you get Hannah off you’re playing with my life. If you keep pointing at Kip, you’re playing with his, and still you don’t know if Hannah is really innocent. Could you live with yourself if you bet wrong twice, and you were responsible for letting another killer go?”

  “This isn’t the same, Linda. This isn’t the same at all.”

  Josie put her fingertips to her temple. Her head hurt. It was the tequila. Or maybe it was the worry over Hannah. No, it was Linda. Linda was conjuring up ghosts that did more than haunt Josie. They feasted on her heart and soul; they made her question her motives and her judgment.

  “Sure it’s the same,” Linda whispered urgently. “Maybe you can’t see it, but I can because I’m the one that has to sleep in that house and now I’m alone there with Hannah. I have to wonder every night when I go to bed if I’m going to wake up. I’m scared, Josie. I’m not asking you to throw the trial. I’m not asking you to forgive my mistakes as a mother, but I shouldn’t have to wonder if I’m going to die because of them.”

  “Stop it, Linda.” Josie dropped her hand. She wasn’t going to be seduced by this woman’s speculations or threats. “You’re not afraid of anything. You never have been.”

  “Okay, Josie.” Linda was resigned. “Think what you want. If anything happens, you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself. And when it does, you won’t have anyone to live with but yourself. Maybe that’s the saddest thing of all.”

  Linda left Josie standing alone at the table. Archer pulled out her chair. She sat down.

  “Take a minute, Jo.” He slid into the chair Linda had just left. “She doesn’t leave it very warm.”

  Josie’s eyes flickered up and then away. Finally she leveled her gaze and looked right into Archer’s eyes.

  “Could I be wrong about Hannah?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You could be.”

  “Do you think I am?”

  He shook his head. “Rayburn hurt her bad. Maybe she snapped. I don’t know. I guess it’s a matter of faith.”

  “I don’t have any of that, Archer.”

  “It’s okay. I do,” he answered.

  He reached in his own pocket, pulled out a couple of bills and put them in the little black folder the bartender had left. Taking a deep breath, Josie reached for her phone. She dialed Hannah once more. Once again the phone rang and rang.

  “I’ve got to go home, Archer.”

  “She’s still not answering?” Josie shook her head.

  “Don’t worry about it, babe. Her mom will be home soon enough. If there’s something wrong, she’ll call. She’s not that stupid.”

  Josie got up. Archer did the same. Josie was half way to the door when Archer called to her. She looked back. He reached to the floor and ambled over to her.

  “I’ve got a present. Linda Rayburn left it.”

  Archer lifted her hand, put something inside and closed her fingers over it. When Josie opened it she found a box of matches that had come from Linda Rayburn’s purse; matches that stood in when her fancy silver lighter couldn’t manage a flame.

  “Coffee Haus,” Archer said.

  “She stops there sometimes,” Josie said wearily, twisting the box between her fingers with little interest.

  “It’s not exactly around the corner from Malibu so either she’s been up that way to see her husband or. . .” Archer hesitated.

  “Or?”

  “Or, Linda Rayburn had them in that purse all this time. The cops searched the house, but I’ll bet they didn’t search the people who lived in the house.”

  Josie’s hands closed over the matches.

  “You’ll check it out?”

  “First thing in the morning, babe.” Archer put his arm over her shoulder and steered her out the door. “I’ll swing down Malibu way while I’m at it. Just a little drive by to make sure Hannah is doing okay?”

  “Thanks, Archer. Want to come home with me?”

  He shook his head. “Not tonight. You’re tired. Get some rest.”

  Josie kissed him. Her arms went around his waist. He felt good but he was right. She needed to be alone. There was a lot to think about. Flipping up the collar of her jacket she walked home.

  Josie lay down on the couch with the phone in one hand, her other buried in Max’s fur. Her eyes were on the picture window even though she couldn’t see the ocean. Not meaning to sleep without talking to Hannah, sure that Linda’s accusations and protestations would keep her awake all night, Josie somehow drifted off. She dreamed of dead children and childless women.

  29

  Hannah sat on her little stool in the sand. She had a joint but it was untouched. She had spent the night pacing the beach, the house, her room, measuring off space to pass the time until her mother came home. Josie was gone. Hannah had left a message and Josie would call. She was sure of that. Once Hannah thought she heard the phone ringing and she ran fast into the house, but it must have been her imagination. No one was on the line. She went back to the beach, and her stool, and the cold, wet night until it got too cold, and too wet. Finally she went inside, wishing she wasn’t alone - until her wish came true.

  Kip had come in so quietly, so unexpectedly that Hannah almost died of fright. It had been days since she’d seen him and nothing had changed: not his long face, his thinning brown hair, his white shirt and beige coat, his khaki slacks. He looked the same yet there was something different. Kip was looking right at her. He actually saw her. He had never done that before.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  Hannah shook her head. She tried to answer and couldn’t. The second time she managed a whisper.

  “I don’t know.”

  Kip didn’t move. He didn’t seem to be breathing but his eyes trailed over Hannah. He took in the twists and turns of her hair, the slope of her cheekbones, her lips, the cut of her t-shirt, the cleft of her breasts. Hannah’s skin jumped with the prickle of nerves. Her heart beat faster even though she breathed more slowly. Maybe everything hadn’t ended with Fritz’s death. Maybe. . .

  Kip took a step. He was leaving. No. He changed his mind. Hannah could see the vent on his coat, the flash of a heel on his shoe. She could feel him thinking. His hatred seeped through the wall. His heel was raised as if he might go forward, but then again he might fall back. She prayed for him to disappear. Instead Kip Rayburn walked right into her room. She cringed on her stool. One more step. He was standing over her, so close she could smell him. The smell of fear was on him. Hannah knew it well.

  “You are a stupid little bitch. Everything would have been fine without you. Everything.” Kip lowered himself, hunkering down so he could look straight at her
. “The mere fact that you exist is abhorrent to me. What you did to my father turns my stomach.”

  “I didn’t. . .” Hannah said.

  “You didn’t what? Hit him? Push him? Seduce him? Make him so much less than he was? Well,” he sighed, “I think you did. But what’s really sad is that, in the end, it’s all my fault. I brought you into this house. I knew he was weak, and I brought you here to tempt him. You and me, we’re guilty as sin. But he was my father, Hannah. Mine. And you took him away from me when he didn’t really want you.” Kip pointed a finger at her. His entire body vibrated with his desire to hurt her. “In fact, no one has ever wanted you, have they?”

  “My mother did. My mother does,” Hannah whispered.

  “Really?” Kip stood up and looked around at the room. “Then where is your mother? She’s not here. If she wanted you so much then why isn’t she here?”

  Hannah shook her head. Her lips moved with the counting. But Kip had had enough. He reached out and clamped his hands on the side of her head to stop her. He pulled her close, half off her little stool.

  “Stop it. Stop it or I’ll. . . .”

  Just when Hannah thought he would squeeze hard enough to crush her skull they heard sounds. A door closing. Footsteps. They were paralyzed, linked together in their private little power struggle only to be suddenly reminded there was another world. Slowly Kip released her. He was pale, shaking as if surprised to find he could be so vicious, yet not really surprised at all. It ran in the family.

  “Kip?”

  Linda Rayburn stood framed in the doorway looking at everything. Hannah. Her legs pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, trembling as if she was chilled to the bone. Against the wall was Kip, his arms hanging slack by his side, his expression melting with his anger and grief and, above all, hatred.

  No one spoke. Finally, Kip threw himself toward the door and pushed past his wife. Panicked, Linda screamed at Hannah.