“He’s not telling the truth. He’s looking for an out. Men like him know how to play the system.”
Rachel’s irritation grated under her skin. “I’ll leave it up to the DNA test.”
“So what happens if the DNA test comes back and proves the blood on the murder weapon is not his?”
“Then he has grounds for a new trial.”
She traced her fingertips over her collarbone as if breathing grew more difficult. “I’ll have to testify again?”
“Perhaps.”
Her fingers curled into a fist. “I won’t change my story.” “No one is expecting you to. Tell the truth.”
“The truth can be manipulated.”
“Yes, it can.”
Eyes narrowed. “What do you hope to gain from all this? Is this about getting publicity?”
“No. I was hired to do a job and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“But you are trying to set a convicted murderer free.”
Rachel hesitated, sensing the tension in the room growing. “Have you considered that the real killer may still be out there? What if the person that really killed Annie is still walking the streets?”
That idea robbed a bit of color from Joanne’s face. “Out there now?”
“If Jeb is proven innocent then there’s a killer to find.”
She glanced toward the window as if she expected to see someone out there lurking, waiting and watching.
Rachel closed her notebook. “You don’t have to worry, Mrs. Stevens.”
Her gaze shifted back to Rachel. Gone was the calm. “How can you be sure about that? What if you’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest and innocent people like me get hurt?”
“Why would you be hurt?”
“Because I testified in the first case.”
“But you testified for the prosecution.”
“And if by some miracle you get Jeb off the hook what’s to stop him from coming after me?” Worry and anger looped around the last words.
“Mr. Jones is ill. He has no desire to stir up trouble. He wants to reconnect with his son and live the remainder of his life in peace.”
She brushed imaginary lint from her pant leg. “And you believe him?”
“Yes.”
“Even if he was innocent, he’s been in jail for thirty years. That changes a man. He could be angry with anyone who helped put him there.”
“I assure you . . .”
Mrs. Stevens rose, raising her hand for silence. “I’m not interested in what you think. You strike me as an honest well-meaning woman, but I don’t think you are as worldly as you might like to believe. In fact, I dare say you are naive.”
Rachel rose, her back stiff with annoyance. “I’m not naive.”
“You are too young to know that you aren’t. You still believe that good wins over evil.”
“I know that it doesn’t.”
She stretched out her hand toward the main entrance. “No, you are a dreamer. And as much as I admire dreamers they are a danger. Now, I really have to be getting on with my day.”
The window that had briefly opened to the past slammed in her face. “Thank you for your time.”
Joanne Stevens escorted her to the door, said a polite good-bye and closed the massive door behind her. As Rachel moved toward her car she acknowledged that time was her enemy. Thirty years had dulled memories and those involved in the original case were now entrenched in lives they guarded closely. A win on the DNA front would be the first of many battles.
She got into her car and for a moment sat in the silence. Colleen had warned she was overdoing it. Joanne called her na?ve. Morgan thought she was a fool.
“Luke, there’re so many uphill battles in the world.” Weariness draped each word.
Whiner. Her brother’s voice whispered out from the quietest part of her mind. Whiner.
Irritated, she opened her eyes and started the car. “F-you, bro.”
Get moving.
“Ass.” Energized, she drove. She dialed Bill Dawson’s number and her call went straight to voice mail. “Mr. Dawson. This is Rachel Wainwright. I’ve left you messages before. Please call me.”
She set the phone on her lap and at the interstate, opted to head west versus east. If she couldn’t grab Bill Dawson today, she had another person on her interview list.
As Joanne watched Rachel drive off in her beat-up old car, she reached inside a ceramic box and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. Standing at the screen door that opened off her kitchen into the backyard, she flicked the lighter and held the flame to the tip of her cigarette until she could inhale deeply. She waved the smoke’s scent away from the kitchen.
She’d called Rachel Wainwright na?ve but the truth was she was the fool. If she’d been wise, she’d never have agreed to speak to the attorney.
But she’d been lulled by a need for excitement to break up the boredom of a daily life revolving around grown children and a busy husband.
She wondered if she’d somehow opened a can of worms.
Those days in the house with Annie and Beth had been great fun. Thanks to Annie the house had been full of odd and exciting characters.
Out on the deck she flicked the ash into a potted plant. She’d remembered how annoyed her father had been. Be careful with whom you associate. Lay down with dogs and you’ll get fleas. She’d laughed. Called him stuffy.
When she’d been called to testify in Jeb’s case her father had hired an attorney. He’d been worried about the family reputation. But in the end her “walk” on the wild side had been chalked up to youthful foolishness. She’d earned her way back in to his good graces with a stunning marriage and by producing three strapping grandsons.
Daddy would not be pleased if he heard about Rachel Wainwright’s visit. At ninety-seven he still ruled the family and had a way of making her feel like a child.
She reached for her cell and dialed a number she’d not used in a couple of years. At the third ring, she received a curt, “Hello.”
“This is Joanne Stevens.”
“Joanne. It’s been a while. Why the call?”
“I had an interesting visitor today. Rachel Wainwright.”
“I saw her on the news.”
“She’s digging into the Jeb Jones case.”
“So I gathered.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve nothing to worry about.”
“You were at his trial.”
“A lot of people were at his trial. Ms. Wainwright will be a busy woman if she plans to talk to all the people that testified against Jeb Jones.”
“So you aren’t worried?” She took a long drag on her cigarette and exhaled it slowly.
“No. I’m not worried.”
“Why are you so calm?”
“Because Jeb is guilty. And no amount of grandstanding by an upstart attorney is going to change that. Let Miss Wainwright have her little circus. It won’t make a difference.”
She inhaled and exhaled. “I don’t see how you can be calm.”
“You always were a nervous sort, Joanne.”
She stared at the glowing tip of her cigarette. “Do you ever think about Annie?”
A long silence snaked over the lines. “Sure. From time to time.”
“I dreamed about her last night.”
“Really?”