“That’s right. She said it was going to be like a test. That tape had things on it that would be painful for him, and she wanted to know if he’d do what she asked him—pass it on to Mr. Henry—in spite of that.”
“I see.” There’s another pause, and I sense Shad is about to try to draw blood. “Miss Cora, did your sister tell you anything about what she had recorded on that tape?”
The next sound I hear should be Quentin yelling “Objection!,” but all I hear is Cora Revels softly answering her coach’s question.
“She told me a few things. Mr. Henry wanted to know everything she remembered about Jimmy and Luther, before they disappeared. Especially things they had done for the Movement. Viola told me she knew a lot she’d never told anybody, and she wanted Mr. Henry to know it. She also talked about Lincoln, and how she wanted Dr. Cage to acknowledge him. To give the boy his name. She wanted Lincoln to be able to tell the world that his father was Dr. Cage, not that no-good Junius Jelks. She told me that being pregnant with Lincoln was tied up in why she’d left Natchez in the first place—after Jimmy disappeared—and to understand it all, you had to understand some terrible things.”
“Did she explain what she meant by that?”
This time Cora Revels is the one who pauses. Maybe Quentin figures Judge Elder would allow all this under the “declarant unavailable because of death” exception to the hearsay rule, but he should at least object for the record.
“Miss Cora?” Shad prompts.
“It’s hard for me to say this. But Vee told me she had been troubled by something for a long time. Years and years. She said she’d committed a terrible sin a long time ago. Not just a sin, like adultery, but a crime. And the older she got, the more it weighed on her.”
My heartbeat is picking up.
“What did you think of that?” Shad asks gently.
“Well, I couldn’t think of a crime Viola would commit. When we was little, we used to shoplift things on a dare sometimes. Chewing gum, fishin’ corks, little stuff like that. But Vee wouldn’t even do that. She said stealing was wrong, no matter how small a thing was. That was Vee.”
“Did you believe that she’d committed this crime she spoke of?”
“Oh, yes. ’Cause I could see how it was weighing on her.”
“Was Viola the only one who knew about this crime?”
“No. Whatever it was she’d done, Dr. Cage knew about it. She told me that much. But Doc hadn’t turned her in for it. And she said that made him as guilty as she was.”
A slow accumulation of heat in my face tells me I’ve stopped breathing. Cora can only be describing one event: the murder of Frank Knox in my father’s medical office.
“And did she speak about this crime on the videotape for Henry Sexton?”
“Objection!” I snap, and Annie looks up sharply from the floor. “Contents of writings, recordings, and photographs,” I add, holding my finger to my lips to keep her from distracting me with questions.
But Quentin does not object, and Cora Revels hammers another nail into Dad’s coffin.
“She did. Viola was conflicted about how much to say, though. Whether she should tell the truth about Dr. Cage’s part.”
“Did she tell you anything specific about this crime?”
“No, sir.”
“All right, then. Was the tape Viola made for Henry in the video camera when you went to your neighbor’s house to rest?”
“No, it wasn’t. It was in the drawer of the bedside table, by Viola’s bed.”
This answer takes my breath away. I’ve always assumed that this tape was the one removed from the camcorder on the night Viola died.
“I see,” Shad says, obviously aware of every answer he’s leading her to.
“Daddy, are you okay?” Annie whispers.
Without a sound, I nod and mouth, Everything’s okay to my daughter.
“After you got home and found your sister had passed away, did you think about the video camera at all?”
“No, sir. It flew plumb out of my head.”
“When did you next think about it?”
“A little while later, when Lincoln asked me about it.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Why Henry Sexton had put it there on the tripod.”
“And what did your nephew do then?”
“He opened up the camera to see if there was a tape inside.”
“And was there?”
“No, sir.”
“I see.” Shad pauses to let this sink in. “To the best of your knowledge, had there been a tape in it when you left for the neighbor’s house earlier that evening?”
“I know there was. Because Viola asked me to put one in before I left.”
My heart is hammering now.
“Why did she do that?”
“I don’t rightly know. But it took me about five minutes to load the thing. I’m no good with that kind of gadget. Cell phones and such.”
“I’m not either, Miss Cora. So there was no tape in the camera when you returned?”
“No, sir.”
“And so far as you know, no one else but Dr. Cage visited your house in the interim?”
“The what?”
“The period in between the time you left, and then returned to find Viola dead.”
“Right. That’s right.”
“So, the tape had been removed from Henry Sexton’s camera, leaving only the hard drive, which was set to record if the tape ran out.”
“Yes, sir. Whoever killed my sister stole that tape for sure.”
Now the courtroom sounds like a swarm of hornets taking flight. Judge Elder silences them with a single warning.
“Miss Cora, I’m going to let you go now, but I may have to call you back up later. Is that all right?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you. I feel better gettin’ all that family business off my chest after all these years. It’s a sore trial, carrying those kinds of secrets alone.”
“Tender the witness, Judge.”
“Come on, Quentin,” I murmur, hoping against hope. “Get up, damn it.”
“Daddy?” Annie whispers. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
I signal yes and motion for Annie to stay where she is.
My earpiece hisses as though transmitting from a deserted Arctic weather station; nothing gives me any clue as to what Quentin might be doing. By now the lack of cross-examination has become so routine that no one expects anything but a curt “no questions” from Quentin, followed by the district attorney calling his next witness.
But by the odd acoustics of cell-phone microphones, I hear the high-pitched whir of Quentin’s wheelchair in the pine-floored courtroom, which for a moment confuses me as much as it must everyone else. Then a warm, southern-accented baritone that makes Shad Johnson’s sterile Chicago voice sound like a resentful little boy’s says, “Ms. Revels, I can’t tell you how my heart goes out to you and your family for all these tragedies. I just have one or two questions for you, and then I’ll let you go.”
“Oh, thank God,” I breathe, making a fist with my right hand and pumping it in the air.
Annie stares at me like I’ve gone crazy. “What happened?”
“Rip Van Winkle just woke up.”
Chapter 29
“Do you believe that Dr. Tom Cage murdered your sister?”