September Wind (46 page)

             
She took a breath, sliding her hands to her lap. It was difficult to know where to begin but, to her surprise, she did, hesitantly at first, and only as much as she thought he needed to know.

             
When she finished, he sat quietly for a while, then picked up his notebook and stood. He walked to the bars and turned to face her.

             
“It’s very easy for me to believe your story, and I wish we could just sit down with the judge and end it all right now. But... that’s not the way the system works.

Tomorrow in court you’ll be given the chance to plead your guilt or innocence. I want you to plead ‘innocent by reason of self-defense’. There’s a chance the judge will let you go, although I think you should know that Judge Grosslyn is not the most lenient of men.”

A door banged in the distance and footsteps approached.

The jailer unlocked the door and Ryan stepped out. He looked at her through the bars. “I’m going to give it my all, Emily.”

              She lay back on the cot, listening to the footsteps fade away, the clang of the door, and then closed her eyes.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Emily was taken to the courtroom the following morning and seated at a table with her counsel. Ryan waited for her to settle in. “Try to relax,” he said. “This won’t take long. Just remember what I told you.”

              She pressed a smile, and nodded, keeping her hands clasped tightly on her lap. The last person she wanted to see was her grandfather, and yet she couldn’t help but check back over her shoulder. The room was almost empty, and she was relieved that he hadn’t shown, although Rose was there sitting behind her. They exchanged anxious smiles.

             
The courtroom was asked to rise, and Judge Grosslyn, a tall man well into his fifties, walked in and took a seat at the bench. Ryan had warned her the judge wasn’t the most lenient of men, and now she searched for something positive, laugh lines around the eyes, something soft, but there was nothing of comfort, only stiff dark hair combed to the side, harsh feathery eyebrows, and a set mouth.

When everyone had taken their seats, the judge addressed the courtroom, and then turned to Emily. “I ask that the defendant rise.”

              Ryan placed a hand on Emily’s elbow and they stood together.

             
“
Miss Rezell,” the judge said, “what is your plea?”

             
“
I, I…”

             
Ryan leaned in. “Louder. Speak louder.”

             
“
I plead innocent, Your Honor. By reason of self-defense.”

             
The judge took a moment to evaluate some documents while Emily waited. Her muscles were so tight she felt that if someone tried they could snap her like a twig.

             
The room was still as he set the papers aside and looked up. “Because of the nature of the crime, and the fact that you’ve been a fugitive for over a year, I have no choice but to order that you reside in custody until after the trial.”

             
Rose gasped, and started to sob. There were murmurs, sharp breaths, and sounds of creaking wood from the baffled handful in the room as they turned in their seats.

             
Emily clutched her chest, and Ryan slipped an arm around her, attempting words of comfort until someone took her elbow and pulled her from the table.

She turned at the door, wanting to reassure Rose. That’s when she noticed a woman lean from behind and put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. There was something vaguely familiar about the woman, although she couldn’t place her.

* * * *

It didn’t seem real, or even possible that the tiny cold room and the hard cot was her home now, and the best she could do was to lie there and wait.

When Ryan came, she pulled herself up, searching his face as she slid over to make room for him.

He declined her offer, and leaned against the bars instead. He looked a mess, his cheeks ashen, bloated, and glistening with sweat, his eyes worried, and his shoulders heavy.

He took a breath, shaking his head. “I tried my best, Emily. I talked to the judge, but he feels it’s in the best interest of the court to keep you here. On paper it looks bad. A violent crime with a pitchfork through the chest, an attempted cover-up, and then running from the crime scene. What also has him very concerned is that you were a fugitive for over a year.”

Emily sat for a moment, angry with herself for running. “I know it sounds awful. But, does he know about Claude? About what he did to me?”

              “
I told him. Although you have to realize he’s read the police report that puts Claude as the victim. It doesn’t say anything about a rape.”

             
“
Of course it wouldn’t. I didn’t tell anyone.” She looked around the dismal room, then back to her lawyer. “What am I supposed to do?”

             
“
I understand your frustration, Emily. And I want you to know that I’m going to do everything possible to convince the court that you were protecting yourself. Yet at the same time, the prosecutor will say that you killed Claude in cold blood. It’s his job to prove that you’re guilty. If you win, he loses. He’ll use any information he can scrounge up to use against you.”

             
Ryan gazed at her in deep thought, and then he began to walk, circling the cell, looking up once in a while. “The police report says you hated Claude because he kept the cat population down. Now that’s exactly what the prosecutor will use as evidence.”

“It wasn’t that simple. But I’m sure he killed them.”

Ryan glanced up, still pacing. “And the prosecutor will say you don’t murder someone for killing cats.”

“I didn’t kill him because of the cats. I don’t even remember seeing him do it. I just know he did. And. I... I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“Listen, Emily. I’m sorry if I’m sounding harsh, but I’m
trying
to make you see what we’re up against. The trial is about a man who was murdered. We need to show the jury that Claude was evil, without a heart. Yes, he was mean, and drank like there was no tomorrow. But the prosecutor will be digging. You need to give the jury something compelling, give proof he was capable of rape, a violent rape.”

             
Even though the memories made her shudder, she had to gather every ounce of strength and speak of things so far back in her mind she would need a chisel to set them free. She folded her arms across her chest, took a breath.

             
“…What I remember is the joy I felt when Steven agreed to take the new litters of kittens to town. We never discussed why, just knew it had to be done. They would be lying beside their momma, drinking milk, purring and snuggling one day, and then next they’d be gone. I can’t say why, but I knew it was Claude. ” She squeezed her arms, shivering.

Ryan was there with a hand on her shoulder. She heard him breathe, felt his passion. “It’s important, Emily, for you to remember. You can’t keep it to yourself any longer.”

              She closed her eyes, let the air fill her lungs, and then slowly let it out.

“
That’s it, Emily. Let them go. Let the memories go.” He stood for a moment longer, then his hand slipped from her shoulder and he continued his pace.

             
Emily breathed in, over and again, breathing, letting her mind drift. The memories came finally, and then she was ready to claim them, ready to tell.

             
“
I heard his footsteps. I saw… I-I saw Claude carrying a gunnysack from the barn. The bag was jumping. And I… I knew what was inside.” Tears dropped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “I heard... I heard them crying.” She swiped her cheeks on her shoulders. “They were fighting for their lives as Claude slinked around the barn toward the stream.” Her shoulders were shaking now as she wept. She wanted to stop.

             
“Go on, Emily,” Ryan urged. He lifted a handkerchief from his shirt pocket, wiped his forehead, and then began to pace again, his feet tap, tap, tapping across the concrete floor. She followed his movement back and forth, realizing this man was suffering too, just so that he might help her.

             
She wiped each cheek with a forearm and continued. “As I followed him, I… I could hear. I… I could almost feel how frightened they were fighting in that sack, wanting out…  I…”  She released a sob.

             
Ryan stopped circling. “What happened, Emily?”

             
“I… I hid in the bushes and watched him place the sack in the water. I waited for him to leave, and then I tore over there and pulled the sack out. I was so happy… so happy they would live. I dropped to the ground yanking at the sack, trying to free them. Then… I-I heard footsteps. I looked up and he was glaring down at me like… like I was the one doing something wrong. I picked up the sack and started to run, but he caught me, and flung it aside. I heard the kittens crying as he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the water. Then... then he pushed my head under.

             
“I was gasping for air when he pulled me out. He dropped me on the ground. I was sitting there, catching my breath when I saw him going for the kittens again. I ripped right over there and I dug my teeth into Claude’s hand, good and ready to tear him apart. I was screaming and kicking and I don’t know what would’ve happened if Steven hadn’t shown up.

             
“
Claude started making all kinds of excuses, trying to cover it up. But Steven knew. We all knew. That’s when Steven started taking the stray cats to town.”

             
Ryan sat beside her and placed a hand across her back. “That’s a good start, Emily. A great ending. You okay?”

“Yeah, I am.”

              “
Claude did some things that were... well, they were despicable.” He sat for a few moments. Then he pulled his hand from her back, stood, and went to lean against the bars.

             
“
When you get on the stand, I want you to let yourself go in the same way that you did right here. Let your memories flow. Sometimes, it’s easier to forget, but sometimes we have to remember. Whatever you feel the need to say, do it without holding back. I’m not going to ask you about the rape until you’re on the stand. But you might think about it, now, before the trial.”

She wasn’t sure why he decided to wait, but she was glad. “Thank you.”

After he left, she lay back on the cot and listened to the curses from across the way, the banging of doors, the hurried footsteps.

             
Sometime late in the afternoon, a guard pushed an envelope through the bars.

She brought it back to the cot and pulled out a letter.

Dear Emily,

When you feel helpless like you must feel now, just know that you have those who love you. Father and I will always be here for you. Please find peace in knowing that things will get better, and that you will smile again.

Forever your sister Rose

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

When the day of the trial arrived, a police officer brought Emily through the side door. The courtroom was almost full this time. She didn’t bother to look for her grandfather, or her uncles, there was no need.

             
Her eyes drifted to the jury box, to a middle-aged man hunched in a mass of shoulders and neck. He placed a pencil over his ear and looked directly at her. She quickly moved her eyes up the row in search of faces that would give her hope.

A bailiff announced the court was in session. Judge Grosslyn walked in and took a seat. He said a few words, and then the prosecutor stood and faced the crowd.

“I’d like to call Mr. Rupert Rezell to the stand.”

             
Emily couldn’t take her eyes off her grandfather as he made his way to the front and raised his hand. He said he would tell the truth and nothing but the truth, but as far as she was concerned, he didn’t know the truth. She could almost smell the alcohol on his breath.

             
Then it was Ryan’s turn with the cross-examination. He stepped forward, and with his eyes on the floor and his hands behind his back, he took several turns in front of the witness stand. Then he stopped and looked up at the old man.

             
“
Mr. Rezell,” he said, already sounding irritated. “Can you tell me how long Claude Thorn lived on your farm?”

             
“
Oh, I don’t know... maybe... thirty some years.”

             
“
During the period he lived with you, did you ever see him drunk?”

             
“
Depends on what you call
drunk.
”

             
Ryan hesitated, shoulders tensed. “Sir? A simple
yes
or
no
will do. Now… isn’t it true that sometimes Mr. Thorn came home so drunk that he could barely walk? So drunk at times, that he passed out right there in the barn?”

“What’s your point?”

Ryan pulled a hanky from his suit jacket. “Listen, Mr. Rezell. If you want to be found in contempt just keep it up.” He wiped his forehead, then stuffed the hanky back in. “Let’s try something simple. Did Emily ever go into the barn?”

“She had her chores to do.”

              “
Thank you. I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Now tell me, wasn’t it possible that Emily and Mr. Thorn were alone in the barn together on numerous occasions?”

             
“How’m I supposed to remember that sort of thing?”

             
“
Didn’t Mr. Thorn live in a cabin beyond the barn, and didn’t he use the barn to make his way back out to the yard most of the time?”

             
“
I never counted either way, so I wouldn’t know.”

             
“
Wouldn’t you say that from his cabin, the quickest way into the yard was through the barn instead of around it?”

             
“
Sounds obvious to me.”

             
“
Tell me something, Mr. Rezell. How many drinks did you have before you came in this morning?”

             
“Your Honor,” the prosecutor said. His voice had grown whiny. “I think the attorney is forgetting who’s on trial here.”

             
Ryan whipped out his hanky, dabbing his forehead as he turned back to his seat.

             
Timothy was brought forward, and the prosecutor gave him the opportunity to reminisce about the comical side of Claude.

             
When it was Ryan’s turn to question him, he wasn’t quite as obnoxious as his father, although he didn’t make it much easier.

“It’s noted you’re the one that found the deceased in the loft. Is that correct?”

              “
I did.”

             
“
When you found Mr. Thorn, his jeans were around his ankles. Isn’t that true?”

             
“
No, they were not. But there was blood, everywhere.”

“You must’ve been shocked by what you saw, and maybe you’re too embarrassed to admit it. But Timothy Rezell, when you found him, his blue jeans were strung around his ankles.”

              The prosecutor jumped from his seat. “Your Honor. He’s badgering the witness. The report I have right here says nothing of the sort.”

             
“
Sustained.”

             
“
That will be all,” Ryan said, frustrated.

             
Emily felt that if any of the men would help her it was Steven. Although when the prosecutor began to question him, she wasn’t so sure.

“The morning of Claude’s murder, did you see blood spots on Miss Rezell’s blouse?”

              Ryan’s chair scraped along the floor as he stood, leaning against the table. “Your Honor, the question is out of line. They were eating breakfast. How was he to know if it was blood or jelly on her blouse? He didn’t know Claude’s condition until much later.”

The prosecutor glanced back, over his glasses. “Okay, then,” he said, “I’ll rephrase that question.” He set his eyes on the jury, waiting for Ryan to sit, and then continued: “Did you on the morning of October 5
th
, 1958, the morning of Mr. Claude Thorn’s murder, see something that you thought looked like blood on the defendant’s blouse?”

“Yes, I think that’s what I told the police at the time.”

              The prosecutor asked Steven about his relationship with Claude, and then took a seat.

             
“
Let me ask you this,” Ryan said when he stepped forward. He folded his arms, resting thumb under his chin, “How many times did you see the defendant and the deceased alone in the barn together?”

             
“Well... uh, I couldn’t say for sure.”

             
“
So it was more than once, or twice.”

             
“
Uhm, yes, I’d say it was a number of times.”

             
Ryan slipped his hands into his pockets, and took a step forward. “I’d like you to think back very carefully, Steven. And remember you’re under oath. At any time when you came upon the two, was there an instance when Claude was in any way offensive toward Emily?”

“I… well. I mean, he did some yelling now and then.”

              Steven had come in the barn a number of times as Emily came down the ladder. If he didn’t at the time, at least now he should wonder if something had been going on, since Claude came down soon after. She kept her eyes on him, hoping he would look over so she could stir his memory, but he seemed bent on looking neither right nor left.

             
She watched him walk back to his seat, disappointed his testimony wouldn’t set her free.