"I've made some inquiries regarding a plea bargain." Kip took over. Josie remained impassive, her heart hardening with each word spoken. "I believe the District Attorney would be open to that. I think a plea bargain would be in everyone's best interest."
The silence was palpable in the glass house with the high ceilings. It wafted upward like heat, leaving the space between Josie and the Rayburns. It was a frigid, unwelcoming place.
"Really? And what are the conditions of your plea?" Josie asked quietly.
"Care, not incarceration, is what we're after," Kip answered.
"That's what you want, Linda?" Josie asked.
Linda got up, unable to look Josie in the eye. She walked toward the tall windows that opened onto the beach. Her reflection in the glass was ephemeral: hands lengthening as they wrung together, face contorting into a rubbery mask of grief, her body a watery column of sky blue silk. Her back was to Josie. That was a dangerous position to be in because Josie's outrage was as sharp as a dagger. But her anger was meant for Kip Rayburn. He was like the kid who plays hide-and-seek, then rats on everyone so he can win the game. When Linda muttered her agreement, Josie turned on Kip.
"Do you believe Hannah killed your father?"
"No. No we don't." Linda was quicker than her husband but he weighed in.
"I didn't say that," Kip insisted.
"Then you have no faith in my ability to defend your daughter," Josie pushed. "Is that it?"
"No." Kip said.
"Of course not . . ." Linda walked around the couch, trailing the thought into nothingness as she sat down next to her husband. "Josie, our decision has nothing to do with you."
"Well it must if you feel that your husband has to act as counsel and discuss a plea behind my back. I didn't realize you were a criminal attorney, Mr. Rayburn."
"I'm not, but I understand that there are always options in any trial. I believe if you can expedite a matter to the benefit of everyone concerned, then it should be done."
"And that's just going to be a fine attitude on the bench, isn't it?" Josie drawled sarcastically. "Forget justice. Forget the question of innocence or guilt. You'll just make sure everyone's happy by making problems go away."
"Josie, please. This is about what's good for Hannah," Linda cried.
"No it isn't. In fact, I don't exactly know what this is about." Josie leaned on the arm of her chair and pointed with one hand at Kip Rayburn. "And if you're so all fired up and determined to do what's right for Hannah, where were you when she needed your help? The night she was arrested, for instance? The day of the bail hearing when, for your information, I already flew that plea balloon past Rudy Klein. He wouldn't even discuss it. Where were you then?"
"I was mourning my father, Ms. Bates, and I don't appreciate you questioning my motives. My concern is for my wife, myself and, yes, my stepdaughter. If you question that, then why don't you convince me that you can prevail if we go to trial?"
"Why don't you ask me to walk on water?" Josie threw up her hands. "I've had the discovery documents less than a week. If you want me to lay out a defense I can't do it, but I can tell you there are problems with the prosecution. Klein hasn't asked that lesser charges be considered. That means he will have to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Hannah intended to kill Fritz, and I'll make that damn near impossible for him."
Kip scoffed, "That's too simplistic. Nothing is ever certain with a jury trial."
"Kip's right. Nearly impossible isn't good enough," Linda murmured. Her green eyes clicked a notch to look past Josie's shoulder. Josie tried to engage her again.
"But, Linda, if we plead out Hannah still goes to jail."
"That's not what we want," Linda said quietly. "We don't want her in jail at all."
Josie pulled back, surprised and curious.
"What do you think could happen? What do you think they would do with her? Slap her wrists and tell her not to play with matches?"
"Hannah can be remanded to a psychiatric facility for treatment. She'll plead no contest to arson and reckless endangerment in the death of my father." Kip was firm. He spoke for both of them yet, unlike Linda, his face was as blank and transparent as the end sheet of a book. "It would be best for everyone. Linda and I both agree."
Josie's elbow was cocked on the arm of the chair. She cradled her chin and looked at the two on the couch. Finally, she shook her head and dropped her hand.
"No. I won't let her plead out to a sentence in a state run psychiatric facility. I'm sorry."
Josie started to get up, but Kip stopped her with a warning.
"You don't have a choice here, Ms. Bates."
"But I do have a voice. Linda gave it to me when she retained me. Listen, if you put Hannah in a place like that she'll never get well. She will be locked up with women who are certifiably insane. Hannah may have problems, but there is no way you can put behavioral difficulties on a par with schizophrenia and homicidal . . ."
Josie paused and sat up just a little straighter. She'd almost missed it. She slid her eyes Kip's way.
"This isn't about Hannah. It's about you, isn't it? You're worried about your confirmation, so you're going to sacrifice Hannah. Is that it?"
"I resent that." Linda half rose from the sofa but Kip held her back. She shook him off hard. "I'm the one that begged you to take this case, and that should prove I'm worried about my daughter. A trial will jeopardize Hannah's mental health and that's what we're concerned about. Period."
Josie opened her mouth to argue, but before she could Kip asked the million-dollar question.
"How do you know she didn't murder my father?" Kip asked quietly.
"Because she said so in court," Josie pointed out.
"How do you know she didn't set the fire that resulted in my father's death?"
Josie understood the implication. Setting the fire without knowing Fritz was in the house would be a lesser offense and, indeed, Josie could plea bargain down on that. But she knew something they didn't.
"It doesn't matter. Death in the commission of arson doesn't apply here." Josie looked straight at Kip Rayburn. "Your father sustained a head wound before the fire started."
"Hannah hit him? She attacked my father?" Kip stuttered in disbelief.
"We don't know who hit him." Josie answered honestly. "It could have happened in a fall and then we could argue death in the commission of arson. But Rudy Klein believes it was a deliberate assault. That's why a satisfactory plea is going to be nearly impossible. Your only choice is to let me build a defense. Hannah is entitled to that, at least."
"You can take all your entitlement crap and shove it," Kip shot back.
"Kip, please," Linda pleaded, but Kip was on a roll. He ignored her, intent on Josie as if she were responsible for the demon child in their midst.
"From the very beginning we've had to wonder if Hannah set that fire, now we have to think that she may have beaten him? This is too much, Linda. I'm not going to have this woman waltz in here and tell us that we're heartless and self-centered if we don't do what she says. I know Cooper will work with us and that's what I want." Kip paced, so angered he could hardly contain himself.
"But there's a good chance she'll be acquitted," Josie objected as he threw himself onto the sofa, pushing into a corner of the couch.
"Then prove it to me now. Prove that, and we'll go to trial. If you can't, then I have to believe Hannah's a murderer and we are at risk if you get her off. The fact that you're talented enough to do that makes my blood run cold."
Josie was incredulous. What kind of demand was this? Show me the killer; Hannah can be free. It was appalling; a black and white demand with no room to maneuver. Even in court Josie would never have to find an alternative perpetrator.
"My job is to prove that Hannah didn't murder your father, not find out who did. You're acting like Hannah is a natural born killer. She's never been violent before, has she?"
"Stop pretending."
Kip stood up quickly. His leg hit the coffee table. The glasses shuddered. One fell, spilling the wine over the glass top. "She cuts herself up like a piece of meat. I'd say that's violent."
"Hannah hurts herself, not other people." Josie snapped her head toward Linda. "Linda, for God's sake, there would have been something big before this. Hannah would have killed small animals, torn the wings off butterflies."
Kip whirled and leaned on the empty chair next to Josie's.
"You're not a psychiatrist. We've spoken to her doctor a thousand times. And what does he say? He says 'well, I don't think she's dangerous, but these situations are unpredictable.'" Kip's mimic of the doctor was cruel, and his next words bitter. "If he doesn't know, how in the hell do you?"
His plain face morphed as he pushed away from the chair. He was in charge. He was driven, determined to have his way.
"We're telling you we need this resolved now. We are the ones responsible for her. We're the ones who have to live with her, not you."
Josie stood up. Kip Rayburn didn't have enough game to shut her down. She didn't care whose son he was, or who he was about to become.
"I'm Hannah's attorney and, as such, I am responsible for the welfare of my client. So let me tell you what I know. Hannah won't last a minute if she serves a sentence in a psychiatric facility. You think she's got problems now? Just wait until they release her someday and she shows up on your doorstep. I guarantee you won't turn your lights off at night. Or are you one of those bleeding hearts that think criminals actually go into those places for treatment?"
Josie's hands punctuated every word that came out of her mouth. She whipped toward Linda and back to Kip, trying to find one who would stand with her for Hannah.
"Those places are dark, third rate institutions where overworked doctors make out reports and prescribe electroshock and pills that will keep Hannah so doped up she won't even know when one of the low life orderlies decides she looks like prime pickings. So he'll rape her, and she won't even know it. Or another inmate will…"
"Stop it! Josie, stop it!" Horrified, Linda cried out as she buried her face in her hands. It was Josie who got to her first. She took Linda's hands in her own and forced them down.
"Linda, listen to me."
"Wait just a minute," Kip rushed to the sofa. Josie met him head on, daring him to interfere.
"Back off," she growled, tired of him now. "Linda, look at me. This is your daughter's life. It's not a game. It's deadly serious and what you do now is going to affect her whole life, Linda. You're her mother for God's sake. Do you really think she did something she should go to jail for?"
Linda's bright eyes darted everywhere, searching for the right answer. Her lips parted – pink, pink lips – but it was hard for her to speak. She turned those eyes toward her husband, but Josie put one hand to Linda's cheek and made her focus on the question.
"Do you want Hannah to suffer?" Josie whispered angrily, pushing for a decision.
"I don't want her in jail for something she didn't do," Linda answered back with words that were dry and fragile. Josie chased after them, collecting Linda's wishes like fall leaves and bringing them back to drop in Linda's lap.
"Then don't throw her away. Don't abandon her. A mother can't do anything worse than that."
Linda glanced at Kip. She hung her head and curved toward Josie. They were a conspiracy of two, excluding Kip. This was between them, women who understood a child's life was at stake.
"Can you win?" Linda whispered, and the undercurrent of absolute terror didn't escape Josie's notice. She felt it, too.
"I'll give it everything I've got, Linda. Your gut said to trust me, so trust your gut now." There was a heartbeat of silence, a bubble of apprehension surrounded Josie and Linda. Josie held tighter, whispered more urgently. "Let me try."
Linda slid one hand from Josie's and then the other. She put her fingers to her lips. They trembled. From behind them she called to her husband who stood apart, his eyes shuttered, his body taut.
"Kip?"
"You decide, Linda. She's your daughter."
Josie closed her eyes. Those words were so cruel, so unnecessary. She willed Kip Rayburn to give his wife a sign that he would stand beside her. He didn't. Linda would have to stand on her own. She did it well.
"I want you to try, Josie. I owe Hannah so much."
Josie dropped her head. Linda's pain of indecision was real, but Josie couldn't believe there was even a choice here. If Hannah were her daughter, Kip Rayburn would have eaten their dust.
Exhausted, relieved, Josie stood up. She walked back to her chair and picked up her briefcase. She had to pass Kip Rayburn as she left. She stopped beside him. They would need him.
"It's for the best, Mr. Rayburn. I promise you. No one will think differently."
"We all have to do what we think is right," he said quietly, his back to her. Josie started to leave but he called to her, walked toward her, and spoke to her. "Just so we're clear. I don't like the way you're playing with our lives. My father is dead, and I think Hannah had something to do with it. I don't know what it was, I don't know how she did it, I don't know if she actually lit the match, but I'm telling you she's trouble. So, go ahead and prepare your case. I'll pay your fee. I'll sit in that courtroom and support my wife, but don't you expect me to root for you after what you did to my family tonight. Do you understand?"
"Sure," Josie muttered, knowing she didn't understand anything about this family – especially where Hannah fit in.
CHAPTER 12
Josie breathed deep, filling lungs that seemed to have had all the air sucked out of them. This was not the triumph of architectural living space she originally thought. It was an exquisite tomb, and the time spent in it made her feel intellectually brittle and emotionally dry. Hannah, Kip and Linda, all with their own issues, their own guilt, their own needs, were now going to be locked together through the eternity of this trial because Josie had forced the issue.
The things Josie had known when she arrived – the trial schedule, the essence of her strategy – now seemed less the beginning of a stunningly constructed defense and more a desperate attempt to dazzle a jury that would have the same concerns that Kip had. Worst of all, she hated Kip for making this so damned personal. Josie didn't know if she fought hard because she believed in Hannah, because she wanted to prove that she could win, or because Kip Rayburn's reticence seemed inhuman even under the circumstances.
Still, it bothered Josie that she hadn't acknowledged the fundamental problem. In this family the accused and the victim's survivor were linked together by the tenuous thread of Linda. One of them would lose – or perhaps all of them – and still Josie would be standing. She could retreat to her office at Baxter & Associates when this was all over. She had an escape route. She wasn't in danger of losing a husband, or a daughter. That realization put Linda in a whole new light. She deserved a heck of a lot of respect for what she'd done tonight.
Josie walked back over the flesh colored tiles, past the horridly graphic statue and thought of Hannah, a girl who had no say in her future. Hannah was Fritz Rayburn's charity case; not even a blip on the radar for Kip. Maybe that was what bothered Josie the most. They spoke of Hannah as if she was a leaking faucet that annoyed everyone, but not enough to fix it once and for all.
Josie pushed open the huge copper door and walked back out to the real world.
The stars were brilliant. A near full moon made the white sand sparkle, and spilled a shimmering path of light right down the center of the ocean. Josie lifted her face as a surprisingly cool breeze sifted through her hair. The night was pungent with sea smells, but still she was ill at ease. Something was forgotten. It wasn't until Josie saw Hannah sitting behind the wheel of her Jeep that Josie remembered what it was. She should have said goodbye to her client.
"Hey," Hannah called as Josie ambled toward the Jeep. The floodlights made the black finish look like onyx and Hannah like a vision.
"I thought you were going to leave without saying anything to me." Hannah's lashes covered her eyes in a long, languid motion. Her head swirled and when she looked at Josie again her expression was almost vacant.
"I was," Josie admitted. Whoever said the truth never hurt anyone was wrong. It hurt Josie. She wasn't sure what it did to Hannah. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have forgotten. I was just thrown off base a little by our meeting."
"Still trying to figure out what happened?"
"I guess so," Josie admitted. She put her hand on Hannah's shoulder and gave her a gentle shove. "Move over."
Hannah crawled over the gearshift into the passenger seat. Her right hand touched the door handle as she settled herself in the new place. Josie waited, forcing herself not to count along. When Hannah was done, she said:
"Kip's jealous, that's what it is. He's supposed to be getting all the attention and everything, but I'm getting it. Plus, he doesn't like things to be complicated. I'm the complication. The trial is a complication and now you are, too."
"What about your mom? She doesn't think you're a complication, does she?"
Hannah whispered. "My mom loves me. Nobody can say different."
"I didn't mean to imply that." Josie put her head back on the seat and looked up at the sky. Hannah's defensiveness was familiar. Josie had been that way about her own mother at Hannah's age. The difference was that Josie wasn't sure if her mother actually did love her.
"She wants to make sure we stay safe," Hannah went on as if she hadn't heard Josie. "She'd do anything to make sure we stay safe. I know she thinks it would be better for both of us if you could just get the District Attorney to send me to a hospital. Kip just thinks it would be easier."
"What do you think?"
"I think it's fucked and so do you," Hannah laughed. It was the first time Josie had heard her do that. It was a beautiful sound and gone too quickly.
The Witness Series Bundle Page 9
