The Widows of Braxton County (24 page)

Chapter 37

H
annah could barely stand attending the trial every day. The stares and the whispers had grown during Charles Walker’s summation, and even Andrew had watched her with angry eyes. The only blessing was that Joseph no longer sat with the spectators. He’d gotten what he wanted. Her only relief the past couple of days had been her conversations with Essie. At least the sheriff and his family hadn’t turned against her, but she saw the worry in Nora’s face each time she brought Hannah her meals or took a moment to visit. Andrew would present his closing argument tomorrow and then the ordeal would be over.

And Willie was safe. She’d received the telegram from Ida yesterday. That knowledge had given her the strength to face her accusers.

Now she waited impatiently to meet with Andrew. He said he had an important matter to discuss with her, and she prayed it wasn’t more bogus evidence.

Finally he arrived, and Hannah was shocked to see him accompanied by Charles Walker. She waited silently until she’d been released from her cell, and the sheriff had left.

After taking a seat at the desk, she looked up at both men.

“What’s this about?”

“Hannah,” Andrew began in a condescending voice, “Mr. Walker has a proposition that I believe has merit and I’d like you to hear him out.” He turned expectantly to Charles.

Charles cleared his throat and, hooking his thumbs under his suspenders, studied her. “Mrs. Krause, the events of July second have torn this community apart, but I believe Andrew and I have come up with a solution to heal the rift.” His attention stole toward Andrew and he nodded for Charles to continue. “After much consideration and a lengthy discussion between myself, Andrew, and Judge Preston, we are dropping the charge of murder in the first degree—”

Hannah’s breath caught in her throat.

“Instead,” he went on, “Mr. Lubinus will enter a plea of ‘irresistible impulse.’ ”

“In other words, I plead guilty even though I’m not?”

Andrew and Charles exchanged a look. “Not really,” Andrew said smoothly, “it means that you weren’t in your right mind therefore not responsible for your actions.”

Hannah shot to her feet, tipping over her chair. “In other words, say I lost my mind and killed Jacob?”

“Now, Hannah, calm down,” Andrew said in a soothing voice. “Mr. Walker is being quite reasonable. There’s every chance that you’ll lose.”

Hannah noticed that he didn’t mention it would also be his defeat.

“This whole sordid mess can be put behind us and—”

“Don’t you mean buried?” she broke in.

“Not at all,” he insisted. “Testimony has shown that Jacob had driven you to your breaking point. You had sought help and were refused. And in a fit of rage, or maybe as an act of self-defense, you killed him.” He lifted one shoulder. “The community will be much more comfortable and sympathetic to that scenario versus one in which you’re a cold-blooded killer.”

“And we must make sure everyone is comfortable,” she said in a voice dripping with bitterness.

Charles ignored her statement. “Are you really sure that isn’t what might have happened? Isn’t it possible that you suffered a blackout? After all, Joseph testified that you were acting strangely that night.”

Unbelievable
. “I had just found my husband
murdered
in his bed,” she cried. “
How
is one supposed to act under those circumstances?”

“Hannah, think of your son,” Andrew said, trying a different approach. “Do you want him to grow up believing that his mother is a murderess?”

“He knows I’m innocent.”

“What about others? If you’re convicted, it will be a blot on your son’s entire life. When he’s of age, no self-respecting family would welcome his courtship of their daughter. No employer would consider his application. His life would be ruined.”

“And if his mother was declared insane? That would be better?”

Charles quickly jumped in. “Irresistible impulse only means a momentary loss of reason.”

She eyed both men shrewdly. “And if I agree, I’d go free?”

“Umm . . . well . . . not exactly,” Andrew began, but Charles cut him off.

“What Andrew is trying to explain . . . You would have to be admitted to a hospital and evaluated by a doctor. It has to be ascertained that you’re not a danger to yourself or society, but,” he said quickly, “I’m sure if you were reasonable and cooperated, you’d be released in no time at all.”

Hannah’s eyes narrowed as she looked first at Charles, then Andrew. They were lying. Hospital be damned—they were talking about an insane asylum. They were both unsure about what the verdict might be and were trying to save their reputations.

Folding her hands at her waist, she kept her expression calm, belying the terror she felt inside. “No. I won’t do it. I’ll take my chances with the jury.”

Both men stood simultaneously. Andrew went to the door and called for the sheriff.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Krause,” Charles said as he moved toward the door. “This visit was really just a courtesy. Mr. Lubinus as your attorney of record has already entered your plea.”

Hannah’s knees gave way and she grabbed the desk for support.

“Transportation to the Mt. Pleasant Asylum has already been arranged. You will leave later this evening.” He paused at the door. “If you do ever expect to be released, I suggest you try being more cooperative than you have today.”

Numbly, Hannah allowed the sheriff to escort her back to her cell. Anger warred with terror. An insane asylum—she’d heard stories . . . suddenly the sound of voices coming from the open window cut through her misery.

“I think that went well,” she heard Andrew say.

Charles snorted. “No, it didn’t. If she continues to act this way, she’ll die in that asylum.”

“Oh,” Andrew replied, disappointment evident in his voice. “I really thought that—”

“Don’t worry about it, son,” Charles answered companionably, “you gave your client the best representation possible under the circumstances.”

“But maybe it would have—”

“Now, now, this isn’t the time for second thoughts,” Charles interjected. “What were you telling me about your plans to run for state representative? I do believe an old classmate of mine, Senator Baldwin, might be of assistance . . .” His voice trailed away as they moved from the window.

Rage drove her to the cot. Sold out. If they couldn’t shut her up, they’d lock her up. She wouldn’t allow it. Willie was safe, so all she had to worry about was herself. She kicked at the bed. They thought to silence her, did they? She didn’t know how, but someday she’d beat them. She’d figure out a way to win. And before they carted her off, there was one score she could settle.

She wasn’t sure if he’d come when she’d asked Sheriff Winter to send for him, but here he was, enjoying his last opportunity to gloat.

“Good evening, Joseph,” she said calmly.

“I don’t think it so good for you, Hannah,” he answered with a smirk. “Talk’s all over town that they’ve decided you’re crazy.”

She allowed herself a slight grin. “There’s only one crazy person in this room, Joseph, and it isn’t me.”

His face paled, but he replied with bravado. “I hope you enjoy life in the insane asylum.”

Hannah moved slowly to the cell door, her eyes never leaving Joseph’s face. “Your father tried to break me for years and failed. I won’t be silenced, Joseph,” she said softly. “Someday, I’ll be free and then—”

“Then what?” he blustered. “Are you threatening me?”

“No,” she replied in an even voice. “It’s not necessary—” she paused. “I know what you did,” she continued in a whisper.

“I didn’t have
nothing
to do with any of this,” he declared loudly.

Her eyes glinted. “Oh, yes, you did. You’ve been working behind the scene the whole time, pulling strings. Where did you get the knives you used to frame me, Joseph? Did you order them from a catalog? The sheriff said one could still buy them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.”

He puffed out his chest. “Say what you want—no one’s going to believe the talk of a crazy woman.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she replied with a shrug. “I guess you really don’t care. You got what you wanted.”

“Damn right,” he cried, spittle flying from his lips.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. He looked away.

“You have the farm now, but that’s all you’ll ever have,” she said in a strong voice. “Violence begets violence and your father was a violent man.” She studied him closely, gauging the effect of her words. “So are you. Oh, you’ll put on the façade of a successful man, but you’ll never know peace. You can never escape your heritage. It will haunt you and yours forever.”

His eyes darted toward the door. “I don’t have to listen to this,” he said as he started backing away.

“That’s right, Joseph, run. Run back to the land you wanted so desperately—but remember one thing. ‘The sins of the father . . .’ ”

He bolted out the door with the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears.

Chapter 38

Fall 2012, the Braxton County Jail

S
ometime during the night, Kate’s fear shut off. It was the oddest sensation. She was aware of the danger she faced. Once the forensics lab finished their tests, there was a good chance she’d be arrested for Joe’s murder; and unless her attorney was able to convince the jury of her innocence, she
would
go to prison.

Yet she felt clearheaded and detached.

Sitting on her cot, she shook her head—amazed at the way she felt. Perhaps her mind and body could only take the rush of adrenaline that her fear had caused for a short period of time. Did Hannah experience this same feeling all those years ago?

Shortly after Kate had finished her breakfast in her cell, one of the deputies came to escort her across the street to the courthouse. He handcuffed her and shackled her ankles. Once outside in the frosty morning air, Kate kept her head up and her attention focused straight ahead. She noticed the passersby out of the corner of her eye. She knew they were there watching, but she had no desire to meet their stares with one of her own.

When they reached the courthouse, a man was waiting inside the door for them. With a nod to the deputy, he approached Kate.

“Kate, I’m Darwin Brown. Rose Clement hired me to represent you. Do you agree?” he asked.

Kate observed the man standing before her. He was dressed immaculately in a tailored suit and possessed a full head of snow white hair, worn a little longer in the back. He reminded her of a lion.

“I trust Rose’s judgment, Mr. Brown,” she replied softly.

“Good,” he said in a cultured voice. He glanced over to the deputy. “May I have a room to talk with my client?”

Mr. Brown followed Kate and the deputy as he led them to a small room on the second floor.

“Have a seat,” Mr. Brown said, motioning toward a conference table with chairs place around it. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” Kate replied briefly.

“Rose filled me in on what has been happening as far as the investigation into your husband’s murder, but I’d like to hear it in your own words.”

With a sigh, Kate told her story for what seemed to be the hundredth time. Mr. Brown took notes.

When she finished, he tapped his pen on the table and read quickly over what he’d written.

“Can you think of anything else?”

“No.”

“Right now all they have is an aggravated weapons charge. The minimum penalty for that is a fine of two hundred fifty dollars and probation. The maximum is one thousand five hundred and two years.”

Kate’s breath caught.

“I’m not very worried about that charge.
But
,” he stressed, “the county attorney is going to push to hold you until the DNA tests come back.”

“How long?”

“Well,” he said with a slight smile, “it doesn’t play out in real life like it does on television, so a week, maybe ten days.”

Her heart thumped. “I’d have to stay in jail that long?”

“Not if we can help it. They did get a search warrant and are executing it this morning.” He peeked at his watch. “Probably as we speak.”

“Mr. Brown—”

“Please,” he broke in, “call me Darwin.”

“Darwin—you didn’t ask me if I’m innocent.”

He smiled compassionately. “Rose thinks you are and that’s good enough for me.” He collected his notes and stood. “Ready? Let’s see if we can get you out of that ugly orange outfit.”

A few minutes later, Kate found herself sitting before the magistrate with Mr. Brown at her side. She listened as he went back and forth with the county attorney concerning her bail and release. She had the same sense of aloofness as she had experienced sitting in her cell. Her thoughts returned to Hannah.

Hannah had been torn from her child. Kate couldn’t imagine the pain that had caused her. She remembered the vow she’d made to Trudy—history wouldn’t repeat itself. But here she was, just like Hannah. A need to learn what really happened between Hannah and Jacob took root.

Mr. Brown’s light touch on her arm drew her away from her thoughts. He gave a slight nod toward the magistrate.

Kate forced herself to focus.

“We keep going over the same ground,” the magistrate said impatiently, directing his words to the county attorney. “Are you charging her with first-degree murder or not?”

“Not at this time.”

“Then all I have before me at this time is a weapons charge. Not a gun or a switchblade. A common kitchen knife, is that correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“No ‘buts.’ Given that this could be part of a larger investigation, I’ll take that into consideration in setting bail. The defendant is released on a five-thousand-dollar bond.”

A couple hours later, dressed in her own clothes, Kate was free. When she saw Will and Rose waiting for her outside the jail, she collapsed with relief into Rose’s arms.

“Rose, I can’t thank you enough,” Kate said, taking a step back.

Rose draped her arm over Kate’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Will’s car is parked over here. Let’s get you home.”

After Will had Kate settled in the backseat, they started toward Dutton.

“What happened?” Will asked with a quick glance at Kate in the rearview mirror.

Kate quickly explained.

“What did the knife look like?” Will asked.

“A kitchen knife. A long thin blade with a black handle.”

Rose turned in her seat to face Kate. “A boning knife?”

“I guess,” Kate said with a shake of her head. “All I know is that I’ve never seen it before and have no idea how it got in the Jeep.”

Will glanced in the mirror again. “They’re easily acquired. The store probably carries five different brands of cutlery that would match that description. Did it have any distinguishing marks?”

“It was just a knife,” Kate answered disjointedly. “Either someone is playing a cruel trick, or they’re trying to implicate me in Joe’s death. I guess I’ll know which when the DNA results are in.”

Rose turned her attention to Will. “Who would do something like this?” she asked, aghast.

“If we knew that, Rose,” Will answered gently, “we’d know who killed Joe.”

Kate leaned her head against the window. “I do know this—my fingerprints aren’t on it.”

“Then the only thing they have linking you to the knife is where it was found,” Will reasoned.

“Right, and all Mr. Brown has to do is convince a jury that I’m telling the truth and knew nothing about it.”

Kate thought back to the article about Hannah. Not only had Hannah been tried in front of a jury, she’d also been tried in the court of public opinion. Gazing out the window at the passing scenery, Kate wondered if the same fate awaited her. Of course it did. The parallels between now and then were frightening. She leaned forward.

“Rose, I have to know what happened to Hannah,” Kate pleaded.

Slowly, Rose began to shake her head. Kate jerked forward and placed her hand on the back of the front seat.

“Wait before you answer,” Kate begged. “Don’t you see? History is repeating itself.”

“No, it’s not,” Will interjected. “Hannah’s story has no relationship to what’s happening to you.”

Kate fell back against the seat. “How do you know?”

She caught Will looking at her in the mirror.

“It can’t, Kate,” he said in a soft voice. “Your stress is making you grasp at straws.”

“I don’t care what you think,” she shot back defiantly. “There’s some kind of connection. It’s too big of a coincidence.”

Will sighed. “Becoming obsessed with an old murder can’t be healthy for you.”

“I’m not crazy,” she mumbled.

She caught the look Rose gave to Will, but let it pass.

“Let it go,” Will said after a moment. “Let’s concentrate on clearing your name.”