Hostile Witness

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 38

"What do you want me to do with these?"

Archer held up the stack of exhibits that Josie had planned to use in her defense of Hannah Sheraton. She looked up from the files she was sorting. She held out her hands. Archer brought them over and stacked them against a chair so she could look.

"I don't believe it, Archer. I don't believe she did it. At least not the way Rudy made it sound. If Hannah set that fire it wasn't cold blooded murder," Josie muttered, looking at one exhibit and then another.

"You don't want to believe it, Jo," Archer answered. "I don't either, but there was nothing else you could do after her mother testified."

"I couldn't be that wrong twice." Josie went on as if she hadn't heard him. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she held up a piece of paper as if it would prove something. "Look, here's the timetable of her walk every night. Hannah couldn't have looked into that bedroom, made it to the west wing, set those fires, run back to her bedroom to stash the joint and matches under the mattress, and then go back and stick her hand in that fire. The walk to the bedroom would just add too much time."

Archer stayed silent. He petted Max while he waited for Josie to run out of steam.

"And there's something else. Think about it," Josie dropped the photo to her lap and looked at Archer as if he were a member of the jury. "If you were Linda and you saw your child committing arson - whether or not you knew Fritz was upstairs - would you just stand there without screaming at her or trying to stop her? No," Josie scoffed. "You would try to stop her. And if you did that, there would have been some physical evidence. Extra matches dropped at the scene, marks on the ground, and maybe scratches on Linda. And even if she didn't fight to get Hannah to stop lighting the fire, Linda wouldn't have just stood around and watched her kid stick her hand in the fire."

"Maybe Linda stuck it in for her. Maybe Linda was glad that Hannah was doing what she was doing," Archer suggested.

"What? You mean she didn't stop Hannah because the outcome suited her? Possible, but not probable." Josie tossed the timetable back into the file, and the file onto the floor. "I don't know. The more I think about this, the less sense it makes."

"You're making it too complicated, Jo," Archer said. "You're assuming that the matches under her mattress were the ones used to set the fire. You're assuming Hannah ran back to the house. They didn't search Hannah that night. She could have had a pack of those matches on her and tossed 'em later. Everybody was too busy with her hand, putting out that fire and finding the old man, to think about that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Josie leaned over and looked at another piece of paper. "But the doctors. What about them? They were positive that Hannah couldn't have set that fire and destroyed her paintings. I'll never buy. . ."

"Jo. Enough." Archer pushed Max's snout out of the way and half rose from his chair. He took the exhibits. "It's over. It's done. Hannah's sentenced. And I'm storing this stuff so you can sleep at night."

"No." She grabbed them back, glaring at Archer. "It's only been a week. Hannah may change her mind. She may want to appeal."

"Don't hold your breath." He got up and went to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. The pot was empty. He talked to her from the doorway. "She isn't saying boo to anyone, or anything. She's done with it, Jo. You should be, too."

"I have to do something. I'm going to try to get her a transfer to a psych ward. It will be better than being a 'keep away' or transitioning to the general population when she's eighteen."

Archer wandered back into the dining room. He picked up a box and packed some of the exhibits. Listening to her go on - again - as she got this out of her system.