The Widows of Braxton County (23 page)

“Come on in, Kate,” he said pleasantly. “Have a seat.” He pointed to one of the two chairs sitting next to a small table.

An evidence bag containing the knife lay on the table.

“You don’t mind answering a few questions, do you?” he asked after she sat in the chair.

She shook her head.

“Good,” he said, sitting across from her. He slid the bag across the table until it was right in front of her. “Do you recognize this?”

“No.”

“You’ve never seen it before?”

Kate bowed her head. “No.”

“Do you know how it came to be in your car?”

“No.”

As Detective Shepherd scooted his chair closer to the table, Kate raised her head.

“We’re not getting very far, are we, Kate?” He slid the knife away from her and removed papers from a folder. “Let’s go over your statement concerning Joe’s murder, shall we? Would you start at the beginning?”

Swallowing hard, Kate retold the events leading up to her arrival at the hospital the day Joe was killed.

“You left the office at twelve forty-five, right?”

“No.” She cleared her throat. “Twelve forty-six. I glanced at the clock.”

He withdrew another paper from the folder and placed it in front of her. “Can you explain these?” he asked, tapping some highlighted lines on the paper.

Kate picked up the document. It was a copy of her bank statement, and the lines he’d indicated were the checks she’d written to Will for the down payment on her Jeep.

“I’d borrowed money from Will Krause and these are the payments on the loan.”

“Why did you borrow money from him? Why didn’t you ask Joe for the money?”

“Joe led me to believe that he was having financial problems, so I didn’t want to ask him. Will offered and I accepted.”

He leaned forward. “That’s kind of odd, isn’t it, Kate? Everyone knows that Will and Joe never got along—that there was a grudge between the two families.”

“The grudge was one-sided. Joe’s family were the ones who resented Will’s.”

“Since Will is so good at helping you out, did he go with you that day to see Joe?”

Kate’s chin shot up. “Of course not,” she declared.

“We, also, found this,” he said, handing her another paper.

It was a copy of Joe’s life insurance policy.

“Looks like once this is paid out, you won’t have to borrow money again from Will Krause.”

“If you talked to Larry Wood, I’m sure he told you that I knew nothing about this policy,” she said.

He took the paper back and picked up the evidence bag. Holding it up to the light, he studied it. “Do you see this?” he asked as he pointed to the knife’s handle. “See those little brown specks? Kind of looks like dried blood, doesn’t it?” He dropped the bag in front of her. “Once we send this in, we’ll know if it’s the murder weapon,” he said softly and folded his hands on the table.

Kate met his gaze as she moved the bag toward him, saying nothing.

“Kate, we know Joe was physically abusive, so why don’t you tell me what really happened that afternoon? If it was self-defense, we can work out a deal with the county attorney.”

She studied the detective as intently as he was looking at her. She was in over her head. Time to keep her mouth shut.

“I’m sorry, Detective. I’ve told you everything about the afternoon Joe died. I’ve never seen that knife before, and I have no explanation as to how or why it wound up in my vehicle.” She watched him without blinking. “I’m not going to answer any more questions without my attorney being present.”

He shrugged. “Okay—guess we’ll wait for the fingerprints and the DNA results to come back.” He stood and gathered the papers. “We’re still holding you on the weapons charge.” He nodded to an officer standing outside the room.

The officer led Kate out of the room and down a hallway. He stopped in front of a door, unlocked it, then swung it open to reveal a small area with another door—one with bars. Opening it, he motioned for Kate to step inside.

She took a few steps forward, crossing the cell’s threshold. With her back to the door, she tried not to jump as she heard both doors bang shut and the locks turn. Looking up, she noticed a camera pointed down toward the cell. Underneath it and out of its range was a stainless steel toilet with a sink attached to the top. A cot was along one of the walls, well within the range of the camera’s all-seeing eye.

No privacy. No freedom of any kind. Kate began to pace the confines of her cell. How long had the knife been in her Jeep and who could have placed it there? She never locked it, even when she parked it in Dutton. Anyone could’ve planted that knife. She had no doubt that the knife was the murder weapon, and she wasn’t stupid—someone was setting her up.

Kate had never felt so alone and so hopeless. Her insides cramped. Running to the toilet, Kate threw herself on her knees as her stomach emptied into the toilet. She heaved until nothing was left except the bitter taste of bile. After wiping her mouth, she curled on her side and laid her head down on the cold, hard floor. She hadn’t the strength to walk to the cot.

Chapter 36

Fall 1890, the Braxton County Jail

A
cool breeze blew in through the open window, bringing with it the taste of autumn. Soon Hannah’s trial would be over. Each day Andrew seemed to grow more and more confident of an acquittal. If his prediction came true, she’d finally be reunited with her son. For the first time since this nightmare began, Hannah felt a glimmer of hope. She could make a new life for herself and Willie.

Hannah tugged at her lip. That meant dealing with Joseph. She’d noticed him out of the corner of her eye as he sat scowling at Andrew and any witness who dared to speak out in her favor.

She stretched her arms over her head and smiled. The high point for her had been Andrew’s hard cross-examination of Reverend Green. He had the pompous twit stammering on the witness stand before he’d finished with him. Hannah gave a small chuckle thinking of the way Reverend Green’s jaws had come unhinged when Andrew had made his final point. He had asked if he, the good Reverend, would tolerate the beating of a junkyard dog. Reverend Green had responded with a heated “
No!”
Andrew pressed the point home by asking, “Then why did you turn your back on Mrs. Krause? Did a member of the gentler sex deserve less consideration than a dog?”

From behind her, Hannah had heard the wave of twitters floating over the courtroom, and she’d had to fight the desire to turn and look at the spectators.

“Hannah, are you ready?”

She spun to see Sheriff Winter standing by the door. “Good morning,” she answered pleasantly.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled.

Hannah started, watched him, and was perplexed. As the trial had progressed, his demeanor had brightened, but today he seemed grim.

“Is something wrong?” she asked as he unlocked the cell door.

“No,” he replied in a curt voice. “Mr. Lubinus is waiting for you at the courthouse. He’d like to meet with you before today’s testimony begins.”

Hannah accompanied the sheriff on the short walk to the courthouse. On the way, confusion swept through her. Then she noticed a change in the people that they passed. Lately, she had witnessed a growing sympathy on their faces, but today everyone turned away, refusing to look at her.

Once inside the courthouse, they found Andrew waiting in one of the courtroom’s small adjacent rooms. Immaculate as always, he stood at the window with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He turned when they entered and motioned for her to take a seat at the table.

“Hannah, we need to talk before the trial convenes.” He glanced toward the sheriff.

“I’ll be waiting in the hallway if you need me,” the sheriff said then left, quietly shutting the door.

“Andrew, you’re frightening me! Has something happened to Willie?”

“No, Hannah . . . It’s about the trial.” He took a chair next to her and leaned forward. “I’ll be direct. They’ve found additional evidence.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “What kind of evidence?”

“Cutlery.”

“Cutlery,” she repeated like a parrot.

“Knives, Hannah . . .” He paused. “Knives with a pattern that matches the one used to kill Jacob.”

Hannah gripped her hands tightly. “I don’t understand.”

Andrew sighed loudly. “Abe Engel returned to the farm to see if anything had been missed and found the set of cutlery wrapped in an old dish towel.”

“But . . . I’ve never owned a set like that.”

“Really?” One eyebrow shot up. “They were found hidden in the bottom of Willie’s dresser.”

Hannah’s hand flew to her throat. “Wait—you don’t think—h-he’s a child,” she stammered.

“Simmer down,” he said sternly. “No one is suggesting that Willie is in any way involved in his father’s death.”

Hannah gave a gasp of relief and dropped her hand.

“Charles Walker believes you were the one to hide them there.” His eyes drilled into Hannah’s. “I want you to tell me the truth. Did you kill your husband?”

The flash of hope Hannah had felt earlier died. Andrew had lost faith in her. She bowed her head. “No.”

“You still claim never to have seen the knife used to murder Jacob?”

“Yes.”

“Can you explain then how they came to be in your house?”

She rose abruptly. “Isn’t it obvious? . . . Someone planted them there to make me appear guilty.”

Andrew sat back in his chair and stared at her. Gone was his charming demeanor. “How?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, pacing around the table. “Ida and Louis have been in the courtroom every day while Fannie Thompson watches Willie at her home. Anyone could’ve entered the empty house and planted them there.”

“I don’t know if a jury is going to swallow that one,” he replied skeptically.

Hannah came to an abrupt halt beside his chair. “Why not?” she asked in an angry voice. “Abe and Sheriff Winter didn’t find them the first time they searched the house. How can Charles Walker explain the sudden appearance of this new evidence now?”

“Willie’s room was never searched.”

Hannah sank onto a chair and bowed her head while a cold sweat trickled down her back. If her lawyer didn’t believe her, how could she expect a jury of twelve men, men who had known Jacob and considered him a friend, to find her innocent?

Andrew stood and helped Hannah to her feet. “The knives are circumstantial at best—just like the rest of the evidence. We can still win this.” He guided her toward the door. “Are you ready to take the stand?”

Hannah walked back and forth across her cell, her dress swishing around her ankles. She didn’t need Andrew to tell her that she’d failed to make her case on the witness stand. Instead of concentrating on Charles Walker as he grilled her unmercifully, she worried that regardless of Andrew’s assurances, suspicion might somehow fall on Willie. Rubbing her forehead, she remembered an incident only last year where an eleven-year-old boy in northern Iowa was found guilty of killing his stepmother. No doubt Charles Walker was familiar with that case, and if he failed to convict her, he could set his sights on Willie.

As she hemmed and hawed on the witness stand, she saw the faces of the jury and those in the courtroom change. Gone were the twitters and the compassionate nods. Their eyes watched her with open hostility.

It was a never-ending nightmare.

“Hannah, there’s someone here to see you,” Sheriff Winter suddenly called from the now open door.

Hannah groaned. She couldn’t bear facing Ida right now.

She turned and was shocked to see Joseph follow the sheriff into the jail. Her body stiffened. “I don’t want to see him,” she said, giving them her back.

“Oh, I think you do, Hannah,” Joseph said softly as he sauntered into the room.

“Hannah?” Sheriff Winter called.

Pivoting, Hannah nodded while a smug grin spread across Joseph’s face.

“If you don’t mind, Sheriff,” Joseph said, “I’d like to speak to my stepmother alone.”

The sheriff gave Hannah a questioning look, and she nodded again. Frowning, he grabbed the ring of keys and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

“What do you want?” Hannah asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Joseph strolled over to her cell until he faced her through the bars. “Things didn’t go too well in court today, did they?”

Hannah glowered at him without answering.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “In fact, I’d say the outcome is pretty iffy right now.”

“I didn’t kill your father.”

“Well, someone sure as hell
did
,” he exclaimed, grabbing the bars to her cell, “
didn’t
they
?”

Hannah dropped her arms and jerked back. “What do you want?” she asked in a weary voice.

“The farm.”

“It’s always about the land, isn’t it?” she asked, then gave a brittle laugh.

His face flushed. “It’s all I have left,” he shot back as he withdrew a sheaf of papers from the inner pocket of his jacket. “You’re going to sign this quit-claim deed, giving me the farm.”

“The estate isn’t settled.”

“It doesn’t make a difference. Once it is, this deed will give it all to me.”

“Not Willie’s share.”

“You’re his guardian—it signs over his share, too.”

“No, I’m not.”

Hannah watched with satisfaction as Joseph’s eyes widened in shock. “I signed over guardianship to Ida and Louis.”

His lips twisted in a nasty sneer. “You think you’ve found a way out of this, don’t you?” He studied her carefully. “If you’re found guilty, which you will be after today, there’s nothing stopping me from taking your sister and her sissified husband into court and suing for custody . . .” He paused and let his words soak in. “I’m a member of this community and they’re nothing more than a couple of outsiders. Who do you think the judge is going to side with?”

Hannah thought back to her time on the witness stand and the faces of her neighbors. They were against her now. Would those feelings spill over onto Ida and Louis? And would those feelings be enough to influence a judge?

She walked to the window and saw Essie and her brothers playing in the yard. The peals of their laughter stabbed her heart. If Joseph ever got his hand on Willie, her son would never know laughter again. If she was found innocent, Ida and Louis would help her until she found a way to support herself and Willie. She wouldn’t like relying on their charity, but it was better than risking Willie’s happiness on the outcome of the trial.

Her decision was made. “I’ll sign.”

Joseph hurried over to the desk and grabbed a pen.

“Wait,” Hannah called out. “Not tonight—tomorrow. That will give you enough time to draw up a second document stating that you will never . . .
never
,” she insisted, “fight Ida and Louis’s guardianship.”

Shortly after Joseph had left in a huff, Nora brought in Hannah’s supper.

“Nora, may I have a pen and a piece of paper?”

“Of course,” she said, taking both from the desk and handing them to Hannah. “Are you writing a note to your son?”

“No . . . to my sister,” she replied, sitting on the cot. “And when I’m finished, would you have Abe or your husband deliver it?” She glanced up at Nora and tried to hide the grief threatening to overcome her. “It’s important that she receives it tonight.”

Hannah ignored Nora’s frown and tried to organize her words. This really was for the best, she thought as she began to write:

My Dearest Sister,

With heavy heart, I compose this missive. Today’s events have convinced me that this community is no longer safe for my son. I have done all that I can to protect him from the machinations of others, but fear for his future if he remains here.

Therefore, I must most earnestly beg you to take my darling boy and return to your home. Only then will I feel at ease, once he is safely away from those who have no care for his interests.

If you have ever loved me, dear sister, please do this last thing for me. And do not think that you are abandoning me in my time of need. No one could have asked for a better companion than the one I have always found in you. I know that although the distance between us will be great, I will always be in your thoughts and prayers as you are in mine.

I am entrusting you with my most precious possession, my son, and I know you will not fail me.

Ever, your loving sister,

Hannah