“And how did Leena respond?”
“Why, that girl lit into him like—” She ceased rocking and turned a suspicious eye on me. “Why you asking me these things? That’s thirty years ago, and we ain’t never seen her since. Not since she got herself in trouble and run off. Never heard from her, neither—not so much as a by-your-leave or fare-theewell or thankee-kindly. That girl made her bed, and I don’t know who she laid in it with, but it weren’t us. So good riddance, I say.”
Inside the house, a phone began to ring. It was a harsh, metallic jangle, the likes of which I hadn’t heard in years. I expected to hear an answering machine pick up, but the phone rang without ceasing. The longer it rang, the more nervous I got about who might be calling Mrs. Kitchings, and what might ensue if she said she was talking to me. She began worrying at the fabric of her housedress, and I could tell she was about to answer the phone. I didn’t want to risk staying through the conversation, so I pushed myself up from the flat-rockered chair.
“Sounds like somebody really wants to talk to you. Reckon I should let you go do it.”
She looked startled at the swiftness of my departure. It was customary down South to spend a halfhour or more saying good-bye, but I myself had never embraced the extended leave-taking, what I called the “Southern good-bye.” I thanked her for her time and hustled down the stairs.
She hesitated at the screen door, as if to make sure I was really leaving. As I turned back to wave, I noticed something I’d missed earlier. A faint path led from the back of the house, which probably contained the kitchen, a back door, and a utility porch. The path hugged the treeline at the base of the hill, and it led straight to the blasted entrance of the cave.
CHAPTER 31
DISTRICT ATTORNEY BOB ROPER looked like he hadn’t slept in three days. Burt DeVriess looked like he’d just won the lottery. We were convened in the chambers of Judge Barr to review the exhumation results. “Gentlemen, let’s proceed,” said the judge. “This is most unusual, but given that Mr. Roper asked for this conference, and Mr. DeVriess agreed, I’m willing for us to have an informal discussion about this case. I’ve got a hearing in ten minutes, so we need to cut straight to the chase.”
DeVriess was happy to oblige. “Your Honor, I think the exhumation results speak for themselves,” he crowed.
“Then why are you talking, Mr. DeVriess? Kindly be quiet.” I suppressed a grin, or at least tried, halfway. “Dr. Brockton, I’ve read your report, along with Dr. Carter’s; thank you for your quick and thorough examination.” I nodded, figuring I shouldn’t speak unless asked to. “Mr. Roper, have you read the report?” Roper nodded miserably. “And what is your response? Does your forensic anthropologist take issue with Dr. Brockton’s conclusions?”
Roper hedged. “Your Honor, much as we respect Dr. Brockton and Dr. Carter, there is other evidence in this case that strongly corroborates the state’s case.”
The judge pounced on him. “Such as?” Roper drew a deep breath, like a man about to take a long swim underwater, but the judge cut him off. “For God’s sake, Bob, cut your losses. The ME blew the autopsy and you know it. Unless Dr. Hamilton has something on you that could ruin your career or wreck your marriage, just bite the bullet and drop the charge. It’s embarrassing, but not as humiliating as losing in court would be. I can pretty much guarantee that you won’t win this one, and you lay yourself open to a malicious prosecution lawsuit. On the other hand, if you drop the charge and apologize to the defendant, you look like the good guy. You get to talk about how truth and justice have prevailed, and you get to celebrate the vindication of an innocent man. It’s the best damn deal you can walk out of here with.”
Roper swallowed hard; it was a big dose of medicine he was being handed.
“Your Honor, in light of new evidence, the state respectfully withdraws the charge, apologizes to the court and to the defendant, and thanks Dr. Brockton and Dr. Carter for bringing important exculpatory facts to light in this case.”
The judge smiled. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? You file the paperwork and I’ll order the defendant’s release. I’m also ordering his record expunged. Unless, of course, defense counsel has some objection?”
DeVriess smiled a smug smile. “Well, Your Honor, the defense was eagerly anticipating a jury trial…”
“Just shut up, Grease,” snapped the judge as he stood and strode toward his courtroom, “before I change my mind.” DeVriess reddened, Roper brightened, and I smiled to myself.