The Anniversary
Authors: Amy Gutman
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The
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Anniversary
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Also by Amy Gutman
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Equivocal Death
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THE
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ANNIVERSARY
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A N o v e l
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AMY
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GUTMAN
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LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY
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Boston New
York London
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Copyright © 2003 by Amy Gutman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Quotations from
A Nietzsche Reader
translated by R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Classics, 1977), copyright © 1977 by R. J. Hollingdale, reprinted by permission.
Material from
The Seven Sins of Memory: How the Mind Forgets and
Remembers
by Daniel Schacter, copyright © 2001 by Daniel L.
Schacter. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company.
All rights reserved.
“In the Mood” by Pat McLaughlin, copyright © 1980 Universal —
Songs of Polygram International, Inc., on behalf of Jack Music, Inc.
All rights reserved. Used by permission.
Little, Brown and Company
1271 Avenue of Americas
New York, NY 10020
Visit our web site at www.twbookmark.com.
First eBook Edition: June 2003
ISBN: 0-7595-9833-9
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For my family — again
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P R O L O G U E
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Nashville, Tennessee
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Eleven years ago
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As soon as the jury came back, she knew.
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Faces somber, eyes trained on the floor, they filed back to their 12
seats, these twelve men and women who held his life in their 13
hands. None of them glanced toward the spectators. None of 14
them met his eyes. In her third-row gallery seat, Laura Seton leaned 15
slightly forward. Placing a hand on her throat, she felt a birdlike 16
pulsing flutter. As her fingers traced the delicate bones of her 17
neck, she thought how easy it would be to break them.
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Judge Gwen Kirkpatrick looked down on the room from her 19
position high on the bench. She had thick, dark hair streaked 20
with gray and a bright red gash of a mouth. A bronze disk hung 21
on the wall above her, the Great Seal of the State of Tennessee.
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It floated there like a halo, invoking some higher good. Not that 23
Laura believed in that. She believed in very little these days.
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“All right, if the record would reflect that the jury is back in 25
the courtroom after their deliberations.” Judge Kirkpatrick took a 26
sip of water, then turned to the jury box. “Mr. Archer, you are still 27
the foreperson of this jury, is that correct?”
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“Yes, ma’am.” Archer was a stocky man with blue suspenders 29
and a white moustache, recently retired from thirty years in the 30
insurance industry.
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“I understand that you’ve reached a verdict.”
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“Yes, we have.”
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Laura glanced at her watch: 10:55 a.m.
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For the first time since she’d arrived, she allowed herself to S 35
look at him.
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A M Y G U T M A N
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A dark-haired man in a navy blazer seated beside his lawyer.
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His face was beautiful in profile. A high, rounded forehead, straight 3
nose, chiseled chin. He gave the impression of being at once both 4
sensitive and strong. While she couldn’t clearly see his expres-5
sion, she easily pictured it. The vaguely ironic smile. Eyebrows 6
slightly raised. As if he were a little bored but trying to be polite.
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His deep brown eyes would be shining, like stones from a riverbed.
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He leaned toward his lawyer to say something. She willed him 9
to turn around.
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Please, Steven, look at me. There’s something you need to know.
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His back stiffened almost imperceptibly, as if he’d read her 12
thoughts, until a moment later he lapsed into stillness again.
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She hadn’t planned to be here today, had planned to sleep 14
through it all. She’d gotten as drunk as she could last night before 15
passing out on the floor. But at 4 a.m. she’d snapped awake and 16
stumbled into the bathroom. In the glare of the fluorescent light, 17
she’d looked like she was dying. Haggard face, pallid skin, huge 18
burning eyes. “I’m only twenty-four,” she’d whispered. “I’m only 19
twenty-four.” For reasons that now eluded her, this had seemed 20
significant.
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From the front of the room, the voices pressed on, but Laura 22
barely listened. She forced herself to breathe. She noticed her 23
skirt was too tight. During the past few months she’d gained at 24
least ten pounds, but the effect was oddly soothing. Buried in 25
flesh she felt safer. As if she couldn’t be seen.
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Memories were flashing through her mind, like a video on fast-27
forward. Lobsters at Jimmy’s Harborside. Camping in the Smoky 28
Mountains. Dancing at 12th & Porter to driving country rock.
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I’m in the mood, I’m in the mood, I’m in the . . .
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And then there were the other things. The things she didn’t 31
want to remember.
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A blood-soaked shirt behind the bed.
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Bone fragments in the fireplace.
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Knives. A mask. Rubber gloves.
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But always an explanation.
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Always an explanation. Until one day, there just wasn’t.
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T H E A N N I V E R S A R Y
“Mr. Gage, would you please stand and face the jury?” That 1
was the judge again.
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Steven Gage got to his feet. He seemed calm and somewhat 3
bemused. Simply going through the motions, as if he were hu-4
moring them.
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“Mr. Archer, would you read me the verdict as to count one of 6
this indictment.”
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Archer rubbed a hand over his mouth, then, eyes down, 8
started speaking. “We, the jury, unanimously find that the State 9
has proven the following listed statutory aggravating circum-10
stance or circumstances beyond a reasonable doubt . . .”
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The words rolled on, endless and without meaning. A barrage 12
of neat official language to disguise what was happening.
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Now, Steven. Look. Now.
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But his eyes remained on the jury. He didn’t turn around.
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The sense of déjà vu grew stronger by the moment. It seemed 16
to Laura that they’d done this all just ten days ago. But after the 17
determination of guilt had come a whole new round of proceed-18
ings. They called it the penalty phase. Mitigating factors. Aggra-19
vating factors. All of them brought to light. The testimony had 20
lasted for more than two days, but the jury was back in an hour.
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Laura’s eyes roamed the gallery, the sea of crowded benches.
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The elderly man beside her smelled like wintergreen. The fami-23
lies were sitting in the front rows, as they had throughout the 24
trial. Dahlia’s family to the right of the aisle, Steven’s on the left.
