Paper Castles (16 page)

The rest of the family gathered her in. Beverly, Rebecca and Cheryl each taking turns. Finally, she looked over at her father, who remained sitting in his chair. Jack looked back at her, calm, but weary. And older. He’d aged ten years in just a few weeks. The ordeal settled into the cracks and creases of his face.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Silently, he held out his arms and she ran to him. Falling on her knees, she buried her face in his chest and he wrapped her up as if she were six years old.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Shhh...”

Sitting back on her heels, she looked up at him. Her father pulled a starched white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She reached up to return the favor and her heart cracked, unable to remember a time she had seen her father cry.

“I’m sorry.” They seemed to be the only words she had.

His gray eyes bored into hers. “We’re going to fix this thing, Savannah.”

And in that moment, she believed he could.

Kip was back behind the desk, a yellow legal pad already filled with the beginnings of a battle plan in front of him. The desk was solid maple, massive in weight and height. A ship on the high seas, or a castle turret. It had been one of Savannah’s favorite hideaways as a child. The center opening was the perfect size and shape for a little girl. Safe and tucked in, stifling giggles whenever Kip or Neenie hunted for her.

Looking at all the paperwork and law books spread around its polished top, Savannah thought that old desk might save her, still.

Savannah collapsed next to Rebecca. “I’m exhausted.”

“You poor thing.” Rebecca started to cry again. “Eleven nights in that horrible place. I don’t...” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“That asshole, Briggs,” Kip muttered. “He did it deliberately.”

Kip adamantly believed Nathan Briggs, the district attorney, had Savannah arrested on a Friday afternoon, knowing she would be held for days before they could get into court for the preliminary trial. It was no surprise the judge in the lower court found sufficient evidence to have Savannah bound over to the grand jury.

The Grand Jury
. Savannah thought it sounded vaguely imperious. As if King Arthur and his knights of the round table had already found her guilty. But it was a room full of regular people—the same kind of people who would make up her jury, that heard the State’s evidence against her and returned an indictment of capital murder.

It was expected, her lawyers said. They had prepped her for all the moving parts of this unfamiliar court dance. But to hear the circuit court Judge Houser reading her charges before the packed courthouse was another exercise in the surreal.

She stood, knees knocking, as she answered the Judge’s questions at the arraignment. Yes, she’d been given a copy of the indictment. Yes, she understood the charges against her. Yes, she understood that a guilty verdict could mean the death penalty. Her voice cracked when she offered up her plea:
not guilty
.

She knew her father and Kip were calling all the shots behind the scenes but she would’ve been comforted if they were present. Jack Kendall said it would probably only hurt her to have him standing beside her during the arraignment, as if he were throwing his weight around. He was probably right.

As expected, the question of her bond raised objections from the D.A. Briggs fought against her release, challenging the court that Savannah Palmerton would be receiving special treatment, as the daughter of a justice.

So be it. Savannah was glad to have her father and her brother in her back pocket. She would use whatever she had at her disposal for a Get Out Of Jail Free card.

Free. But for how long? The trial was set for the middle of August. They had five months to come up with a strategy, to find the answers that would save Savannah’s life. It was still too much to think about. One day at a time was all she could handle. Today. This moment.

Kip leaned back in his chair. “The fact that Briggs is handling the case himself instead of handing it off to another prosecutor is proof he intends to use this trial in his re-election campaign. The old publicity whore. Even though you had to sit there and suffer through Briggs’s pontifications, and I apologize for that, Sis, we learned a lot from the prelim. Which, of course, is the whole point of not waiving the preliminary.”

“I don’t think I heard anything after he listed the evidence against me,” Savannah said. “I had no idea that an earring like the one Price gave me for Christmas was found at the scene.”

“I think we can explain the earring was dropped there, previously.” Kip said.

“And what about the eyewitness who claims he saw me running out the back door of Price’s office?”

“That one’s a little tougher.” Kip looked away and shuffled some papers on his desk.

A little tougher? An eyewitness put me at the scene of the crime. Was I really there?

“We’ve heard Brigg’s story,” Kip said. “But, Savvy, this is the first time we’ll hear it from you.” Kip leaned his elbows on the desk and looked over at his younger sister. “Tell us what happened that night.”

“I don’t remember what happened,” she said, tired of the words. They’d been played so many times, the groove on the record had worn thin. “Price stormed out. I left and...”

“And what are we supposed to do with that?” Cheryl said.

Savannah looked over at her sister-in-law. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what can we possibly do with that story? What are we supposed to tell the press?”

“We don’t tell the press anything,” Savannah shot back.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Savannah, the whole world doesn’t revolve around you. Your brother is in the middle of an intense campaign right now. And —”

“Cheryl, that’s enough.” Kip cut her off.

“I’m sorry. But I have a family to think about, too.” Cheryl was crying now and Savannah couldn’t tell if it was because she was angry or embarrassed. She stormed out of the room, leaving Savannah slumped in the corner of the sofa, painfully aware Cheryl was right. However this nightmare ended, everyone, not just Savannah, would walk off the battlefield wounded.

“Sorry, Savvy,” Kip said, rubbing the day old stubble on his jaw. “Cheryl was out of line.”

“No.” Savannah shook her head. “She has every right to be concerned about you and her family. I’ve screwed everything up for everyone who is even remotely tied to me. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

The room didn’t know what to do with itself.

Kip lit a cigarette. Savannah strode across the room, shook one out of the pack for herself and lit it. She took a long drag, held it, then leaned her head back, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. She turned around to find her mother and sister staring at her as if she was holding the smoking murder weapon in her hand instead of a cigarette.

“Yes. I’m having a cigarette,” she said.

Beverly’s face announced everything she’d tried to do for Savannah for her entire life was just thrown out the window. Rebecca pulled her lips in, waiting for the blowback, but nothing came.

Savannah took another drag.
I’m already a murderer. What difference could it possibly make if I smoke a cigarette on the way to the electric chair?

Beverly stood, smoothing the pleats on her skirt. “I think we’re in the way here.”

Kip broke through the awkwardness. “Yes, I think we need some privacy. Everyone can catch up with Savannah later.”

With the room now empty, Kip’s light smile faded, and he became all business.

“So... Let’s start at the beginning.”

H
ER HOMECOMING was a mixed bag: PJ couldn’t get enough of her, while Angela hung back like a mistrustful cat. Avoiding her mother’s touch, she slunk at the perimeters of the room, content to lean against walls and doorframes and watch from a distance.

At least she’s here
, Savannah thought, while the lump in her chest named Angela grew larger.

All through dinner, PJ and Neenie kept conversation bouncing around the table while Angela’s cold stares reminded Savannah these could be her last suppers at home.

Sometimes the subject was gingerly changed to the situation at hand. Savannah did her best to answer all questions. At least the ones fit for her children’s ears. She danced around the delicate areas.

“I’m sorry you heard Daddy and I fighting that night,” she said, choosing her words with precision. “Daddy left the house. I got in the car to cool off. I was upset. I came home—“

“And Daddy didn’t,” Angela said. “I can’t believe they let you out of jail.” Words were hurled across the table, wrapped in icy venom, straight into Savannah’s face.

Neenie slammed a hand on the table. “Don’t you talk to your mother with that tone.”

Savannah swallowed her shock and shame. “I haven’t been convicted yet, Angela.”

Angela’s attention was on Neenie. “You’re just as bad. Even if you saw her do it you’d still lie for her.”

“Shut up, Angela,” PJ yelled.

“Now that’s
enough,
Missy,” Neenie said.

The situation was a child’s spinning top, wobbling precariously just before it fell over. The last thing Savannah wanted was a fight with her daughter, but she couldn’t allow Angela to control the conversation on the topic.

“Angela, go to your room.”

“Gladly.” Angela stomped upstairs. The slamming of her bedroom door, the triumphant last word.

PJ, always the ambassador, got up as well and came to hug Savannah. “It’ll be okay, Mom.” Savannah soaked up his unwavering love, pretending it was enough for two.

She tried to step back and see the world from the eyes of an un-nuanced teenage girl who’d just lost her father and whose mother was taken away in handcuffs. What was Angela supposed to think? She’d seen plenty of movies. The stories were always black and white. There were good guys and bad guys. Someone was always to blame.

After dinner, Savannah and Neenie sat alone on the living room couch and Savannah laid her affair with Adam Vincent at Neenie’s feet. All of it. Starting with the first art class and ending with the night at his apartment. Including the photographs that might help convict her. Nothing was left unsaid.

When she was finished and her sins were scattered in front of Neenie like burnt offerings to a god, Savannah slumped in the cushions, waiting for her penance. Relieved to sweep the last of the lies between her and Neenie out of the room.

Neenie’s warm hand reached for hers. “I know you didn’t do this thing, Baby Girl,” she said. Her voice filled with conviction and enough unwavering faith to drag Savannah across the finish line with her.

Savannah wanted to believe her. She’d been pushed and pulled, locked up, and force-fed so many different pieces of information she didn’t know what to believe anymore. Her days were spent in shaking anxiety and her nights in blood-soaked nightmares. Through it all was the constant fear of her lost hours the night of the murder. She needed something to hang her heart on, and Neenie’s belief in her was that hook.

“Neenie, what if I —”

Neenie gave Savannah’s hand a gentle squeeze. “No,” she said, squashing any possibility of doubt. “There’s no
what if
. Now you listen to me. I don’t care what kind of circumstantial evidence they’ve trumped up against you. Your father and brother are brilliant lawyers and they’ll find a way out of this mess.”

“I hope you’re right. Because it’s a little bit more than a mess.”

“What makes me mad is now the police have settled on you, they won’t be looking for the person who really did this thing.”

Savannah nodded. “Someone killed Price. It’s still hard to believe.” Images of Price lying in a pool of blood were never far from her mind. She kept trying to imagine the scene, then became frightened she wasn’t imagining it, but remembering it.

The doorbell rang and Savannah jumped with fresh fears of being hauled back to jail. When Neenie returned, Kip was following behind.

“Hey, Sis.” His handsome face was weary, his usual smile missing.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted some time alone with you.”

Savannah patted the sofa cushion next to her and Kip sunk down as if he ‘d used all his energy just getting there. His exhaustion was palpable. It matched the fatigue in her own bones. Her entire family were prisoners of war, hostage to a situation not of their making. The stress was taking its toll and they were still months away from a trial.