Breaking Hearts (24 page)

“For doing it so often, you’re a shitty liar.” She fell into step beside me. “He wasn’t in court today.”

“Thank you for pointing it out.” I sighed and stomped a few steps away before I turned to find she’d stopped. “I wanted to tell him about Kieran last night, but we got into an argument.” I leaned against a minivan, lamenting the horrible choices I’d made.

She patted my shoulder. “Not that I don’t hope you and Simon have a happily ever after fit for a fairy tale, but don’t you think you should be concentrating on this case and your testimony tomorrow?” She nudged me in the ribs. “If you go to jail, things with Simon are over anyway, right?”

I nodded and sighed. “Right.”

“Let’s go get you prepped for testimony.”

We drove back to my parent’s house to do a run through of the things safe to talk about and the things I needed to stay away from.

“Remember, I know all the details, okay? But the jury doesn’t. So share. Be wordy. We want you on the stand so they get to know you, to feel everything you felt, but choose those words carefully. Even if they think you’re guilty, we need them to know you had a reason bigger than the law. If by some chance you’re found guilty, it’ll make all the difference in sentencing. Be careful, though. Whatever we bring up, Cal can grill you about on cross.”

We spent the evening working on what clothes I’d wear, how my hair should be fixed, and what questions she’d be asking. A little after midnight, she climbed into her car, and I went to bed. I checked my phone repeatedly all night, but no call from Simon ever came.

Along with the sun came the butterflies and anxiety of having to testify in front of not only a jury, but the gallery, along with a television and Internet audience. For court, I wore a very feminine white dress with cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. My shoes were low heeled and closed toe. Grace had turned me into a puritan for what she called the performance of my lifetime. My hair fell free over my shoulders in soft wavy curls. Finally, after a thousand deep breaths and a few reassuring nods from Grace, she moved to stand behind the podium in front of me. Reporters and sketch artists sitting alongside high school classmates and acquaintances crowded into the gallery. Simon was still nowhere to be seen. I focused on Grace.

“Danielle, there are probably two big questions everyone wants the answer to. Did you kill Sean Turner?”

“No.”

She paused and I knew she wanted more.

“I should have… I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

Her eyes popped wide open, and she cleared her throat as she nodded and flipped pages in her notes back and forth. “How long have you lived in Storybook Lake?” A safer subject.

“Most of my life. I was born here and I went to school here. After I went north for college, I came home. I’ve gone away a couple of times but somehow, I always end up in Storybook Lake.”

“And you went with Keaton Shaw?”

“Yes.”

I told the story with enough bits and pieces to be true, but no one needed to know about my impure motives, so, at Grace’s previous urging, I kept them to myself.

She led me through the years I lived with Keaton, meeting Sean, the abuse, and the agony of his behavior.

“Why didn’t you leave?” In a move more inspired by friendship than her job description, she moved around the podium and took my hand in hers. “Why didn’t you come home then?”

“I was ashamed, embarrassed. After everything I’d done, I thought I deserved it.”

I filled the time with story after story of abuse, and with every tale I finished, she asked why I didn’t just come home. The excuses ranged from desperation, to no way to get there, to nowhere to go. No one seemed to care beyond the first couple. We’d spent too long making me pathetic.

Before Grace had the chance to fix it, the judge took the opportunity to call a twenty minute recess.

* * * *

After the break, we went through the day I left California. I detailed what Sean did to Kieran, and Grace held up pictures I’d seen too many times.

“He let you take Kieran to get help?”

“Yes. I drove to the hospital and told the doctor everything, then the social worker and the cops. They arrested Sean. While they kept him at the police station, I got as much stuff for me and Kieran as I could, called a cab, flattened his tires, and threw his phone in the ocean. I cut up his credit cards and hid his money in the dishwasher. Then, I walked out the door, got in the cab, and that was it.”

“You didn’t take his money?” Grace turned from me to Cal as she asked.

“No. I had my own money. I’d signed a really big contract, and anyway, I put all the money into our relationship even before that. His club and the drugs cost him more than he brought in. The house, the cars, the furniture, all of it was mine.”

“How long were you back in Storybook Lake before Sean got in touch with you?”

“He contacted my mom a little while after I came home.” I took a big drink of water. “I called him and asked him to sign the divorce papers, and he told me he would kill me before he signed anything. After that, he would text and leave voice mails at random times, threatening me.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“I told everybody. I let them listen to the voice mails. My dad called a security company to upgrade our system. Then, for a while Sean left me alone, stopped harassing me, so I thought he gave up and I moved out.”

“Did it stop when you moved out?”

“No. He amped up his level of crazy.” I related all the details of the harassment I’d gone through in Storybook Lake. Every gaze in the room stuck to me. I’d never been the object of such rapt attention, and my heart raced under the intense scrutiny.

Grace slid her hands into her pockets and leaned her butt against Cal’s table. He slid back and moved his chair to the side as though he wanted to watch me while I spoke. “What happened when you went to Sean’s hotel?”

“I sat in the car for a long time, watching, waiting for something to happen. Then, Joey, one of the guys who worked for Sean, showed up and they argued. I couldn’t hear but it looked bad. Afterward, Joey walked away and Sean went inside.”

“What did you do then?”

“I knocked on the door. He just stood there and looked at me like he couldn’t believe I’d been brave enough to come. To be honest, courage had nothing to do with it. I think at that point, a bit of mania had seeped in. I had Simon’s gun in my pocket and Sean in my face.”

“How did you get Simon’s gun?”

“I took his car that morning. He kept it in his glove box.”

“So did you point the gun at Sean?”

“Yes. I held it out like to shoot him, but I didn’t know about the safety on the gun and I couldn’t get it to fire. I tried. He took it and hit me in the face with the handle. I went down, and I think he expected me to stay there, but I didn’t. Not this time. When he raised the gun--I guess to shoot me--I kicked him. The gun fell and while he laid down there, holding himself, I kicked him again and again. Then, I just stopped. I got in Simon’s car, locked the doors, and left. A few blocks later, I pulled over and cried.” As I sat there, reflecting on the feeling I’d experienced, I lost my breath for a second. I sucked in a shallow puff of air and blew out a long one. “I know I should have called the police, but I didn’t.”

“But the police here are your friends.”

“And yet”--I didn’t hide a grimace--“I’m on trial.”

“I’m going to ask you again. Did you kill Sean Turner?” This wasn’t her lawyer voice. This was her best friend, please-tell-me-the-truth-I-think-you’re-lying voice. In fairness, all those years of alcohol abuse may have blurred her ability to reason.

“No. If I did, I would be claiming self-defense right now.”

She sighed. “What happened next?”

“I wanted to finish it, you know? So, I went back, and I would have let him kill me. I just wanted it to end that bad. I knew Mom and Dad would take care of Kieran.” I rubbed my hand over my face and looked out at the gallery. All my old friends sat in the rows in front of reporters and media crews recording my every word.

“What happened when you went back to the hotel?”

“The door wasn’t shut all the way and I pushed it open.” My arm swung in a sideways arc as my mind and my body worked together to recreate the act for the jury. “I didn’t see Sean. I checked the bathroom, the closet.”

Her eyes shifted, above me, around me, beside me, everywhere but at me. “What did you see, Dani?”

Another batch of tears formed and spilled over onto my cheeks. “Grace, you believe me, right?”

She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know, Dani. Why didn’t you call the police? They were looking for him to question him. It would have gotten him off the streets, taken the heat off of you so you could figure out what to do. You know the cops here. They’re your friends.”

“Again, friends who arrested me.”

“Not until later.” She brushed her hands down her skirt, still not looking at me. “What did you see when you walked into the hotel room, Danielle?”

“The windows were open, and I came out of the bathroom, facing the bed. I saw his foot. Someone had trashed the whole place, maybe Sean did it himself, I don’t know, but someone had thrown the clothes and bed sheets on top of him.” I had never talked with my hands before, but now waved them like a flag on a windy day. I clasped them in my lap, afraid I looked silly. “It didn’t feel like he’d gotten drunk or stoned, then collapsed in a messy room. He was too still.” My mind’s eye replayed the scene in digital clarity. “He had a line of blood on his face, right here.” I trailed a finger down my cheek below my left eye. “And a few blood stains on his shirt, but I didn’t get any closer to look. And he had all his clothes on except his shoes.” I shuddered at the thought of what he’d been through. “Someone shot him in the head. And I saw Simon’s gun next to him on the floor.”

“Did you take Simon’s gun?” Her voice hadn’t yet recovered the confidence in her stance, and her words quivered as she spoke.

“No. I didn’t. I just stood there and stared at him.”

She cleared her throat and I smiled at her. She had to pull it together. Quick. “Did you touch Sean?”

“I touched his hand and I moved some clothes off his leg.” I might have kicked him.

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I brought the gun there. I wanted to shoot him, and my fingerprints were on the gun.” At the time, I’d assumed the gun would be found. “There was no way anyone would believe I didn’t do it.”

Grace’s face tightened, and she had her going-to-kick-my-butt-face on.

“We had a bad relationship and everybody knew it. So, in terms of suspects, I would have been a really good one. I obviously didn’t have an alibi. I’d been sitting outside his room for hours. I mean, I’ve told most of this story a hundred times and here I am.”

“Do you have any idea how Sean’s blood got into your house?”

“I assume I brought it back with me. I changed my clothes in the mudroom and threw them in the washer.”

“Was Simon there when you got back?”

“He came later. He’d been out looking for me.”

“Was anyone home?”

“No. I was alone.”

When I left the courthouse, Jocelyn stood on the steps waiting. I shifted my neck from one side to the other and looked down at her. “Are you waiting for me?”

She nodded and fell into step beside me and Grace. “I didn’t know about your husband or what you went through.”

“It’s not something I’m proud of.”

“Simon explained a lot of what happened in your life, and today, hearing all of that from you… I wanted to say… I’m sorry, Danielle.”

I wasn’t sure if she was sorry for our entire relationship or just for the moments that inspired the pity reflected in her eyes, but at the moment, I didn’t care. It was an apology and it was good enough for me. We could resume our battle another day. For now, I needed all the friends I could get. “Me too.”

She nodded, turned, and walked a few steps before stopping to look at me again. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I think I might need it.” As Joss made her way down the sidewalk, Grace led me to her car.

“Luck? I’m kicking ass in there.” Grace drove for a few minutes before she pulled into a parking lot. “If you didn’t kill Sean, who did?”

“I don’t know.” I had a couple guesses, each one with as much merit as the other, but none I would use as a get out of jail free card.

“Maybe it was somebody in the notebook.”

“No. Sean wasn’t the big time. He was just some penny ante drug dealer who owned a strip club.”

“But the book was more. It had fetishes and real names. Important names. What if he was blackmailing someone and they took him down?”

“And they would come all the way here and do it? I doubt it. Sean was a flea compared to those names.” I’d read them, memorized them. Captains of industry, finance, and politics had quite the sexual preferences and used Sean to sate their perverted appetites.

“Then who, Danielle?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay then. What happened after you got back that day? Didn’t Simon want to know where you were?”

“I already told you. He wasn’t there when I got back.” I took a moment to consider the notebook.
Could she be right?
I doubted it. It had to be someone here who took justice into their own hands…someone I probably owed my life to…someone who loved me. Where had Simon gone that night?

“I still want to check the notebook and see if anyone associated with some of those names has turned up here.”

“I need to see Simon.” Maybe I wasn’t the only one who had a few secrets in the metaphorical back pocket.

“I thought he was mad at you.”

“Well, he’s gonna have to get over it.” I blew out a breath. “We have some things we need to discuss.” So many things, I couldn’t even formulate an entire list without losing track.

Instead of speaking, she pulled the car back onto the road and, before I knew it, we’d arrived at my house. I rushed up the walk and burst through the front door to silence. Mom must have taken Kieran out for the day.

I walked into the kitchen, dialing my cell. A moment later, I dropped the cell onto the floor and watched the battery slide across the tile. “Joey?”