A Reasonable Doubt by Susan Sloan (free novels .txt) 📕

witness box.  She radiated courage, generated sympathy, and looked, at least in Lily’s eyes, as though she were about to play the role of her life.

“Mrs. Scott, may I begin by expressing our deepest sympathy to you and your family for your terrible loss,” John Henry said sincerely.

Lauren smiled at him.  “Thank you,” she said.

“I promise to be brief,” he promised her.  “I have only a few questions.”

Lauren nodded graciously.  “You’re most kind,” she said.  And Lily, pen poised over paper, listened intently to every word.

The prosecutor wasted no time in getting down to brass tacks.

“Did your husband use drugs, Mrs. Scott?” he asked.

“Oh dear, I always thought that was a private matter, but well, yes, we did experiment a little, Dale and I,” Lauren admitted, actually looking a bit sheepish.  “Nothing big, mind you, just a little recreational stuff, when the kids were asleep, and there was just the two of us.  Dale always used to say it was important to know your enemy, and what turned your enemy on.  And he also said he wanted to know what different drugs did to you, in case either of our girls had an idea about trying them.”

Good for John Henry, Lily thought.  Cut right to the chase, and try to preempt the defense.  And good for Lauren, too -- making up such a ridiculous story with such a straight face to try to save her husband’s reputation.  The acting profession had really missed out.

“I suspect a great many of us either have or should have done the same for our children,” John Henry opined, and then hurried to inquire further before Lily could object.  “Do you know what your husband was doing the night he was murdered?”

“I assumed he was going to work,” Lauren replied.

“Did he often work on Sunday nights?”

“He worked all hours, on any given day, so I didn’t think anything of his going out on a Sunday night, or his leaving so late,” she replied.  “But I thought his partner -- Detective Hitchens -- would be with him.  I wouldn’t have felt comfortable if I’d known Dale was going out there all by himself.  He did some dangerous work, you know, in some unsavory parts of town, and it wasn’t the kind of work he should have been doing alone, as we found out.”

“Please, tell us a little about your husband,” John Henry invited.  “What kind of man he was, what kind of husband, what kind of father.”

“He was a strong man,” Lauren began without any hesitation.  “Not just physically strong, and emotionally strong, but spiritually strong.  He believed that the Lord’s way was the right way, and he always tried his best to live by it.  He was a good and faithful husband, and a devoted father.”

“Did he share much about his work with you?”

“No, he didn’t,” she replied.  “He used to say that most of it was too ugly to bring home.  But he always said he was born to be a policeman.”

“Did he say why?”

“He used to say there was no job more important in life than to keep a community safe.”

“Thank you,” John Henry said, beaming.  “I have nothing further.”

. . .

Joe shook himself awake.  He had spent most of the past two hours walking along the sand and rock beach, taking in the bright sun and fresh ocean air, before winding up back in the Jeep Cherokee, where he then managed to doze off.  He rubbed his eyes, stretched, and then glanced at his watch.  It was five minutes to three, time for the shift to change, time for him to start watching for the illusive Mary.

He spotted her immediately.  He didn’t know why he knew it was her, he just did.  He chalked it up to the instinct born of twenty-five years on the job.

She pulled into the lot in an old Dodge Ram, parking just across from him, climbed out, and started walking toward the hospital entrance.  He was out of the Jeep in a flash.

“Excuse me,” he said.  “You’re Mary, aren’t you?”

The woman turned around.  She had long brown hair and high cheekbones beneath slanted eyes, and she looked to be in her late thirties.

“Yes, I’m Mary,” she said cautiously.

Joe pulled out the letter.  “You sent this, didn’t you?” he asked.

She didn’t look at the letter.  Instead, she looked around the parking lot, as though to see if anyone might be watching.

“This really isn’t a good time,” she murmured apprehensively.

“I’ve been trying to find you since ten o’clock this morning because you sent this letter.  Maybe it was just an impulse, but you sent it, and I think it’s because you want us to know something -- something that might help Jason Lightfoot -- am I right?”

She was clearly torn.  “The shift is changing, there are too many people around,” she whispered.  “If anyone finds out, I could lose my job. ”

“No one will find out from me,” Joe assured her.

She took a deep breath.  “Is that your Jeep?” she asked.  He nodded.  “Twenty minutes,” she said.  And then she turned and hurried away.

Joe got back into the Cherokee to wait.  Twenty minutes passed, then twenty-five, then thirty, then thirty-five.  He was seriously contemplating walking right into the emergency room and confronting her, when he caught sight of her in his rearview mirror.  She came up beside him, and he could read the nametag on her uniform: Mary Pride.  She was carrying something concealed in a towel.

“I’m sorry, we had an emergency,” she said, pulling a manila folder out of the towel and thrusting it through the open window.  “I shouldn’t be doing this, it’s probably illegal, it’s certainly unethical, but I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing.  I’m only doing it to help Jason.  We grew up together, and I know him to be a good person.  But please don’t come back.  It would cost me my job.”  And then she was gone.

. . .

Just as Lily was rising to cross-examine her former next-door neighbor, her cell