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

phone began to vibrate.  She quickly glanced at the text message.  “I beg the court’s indulgence, Your Honor,” she said, flying blind because the message just said to wait.  “Something urgent has come up.  May I have a short recess before my cross-examination of this witness?”

Grace Pelletier glanced up at the huge Ethan Allen clock that hung on the courtroom wall behind her.  It read 4:10.  She then looked over at the jury, and then at the prosecutor.  “Any objection if we recess for the day, Mr. Morgan?” she inquired.

John Henry shrugged.  “I have no objection, Your Honor,” he said.

“All right then,” she said, turning to the witness.  “Mrs. Scott, please return in the morning, prepared to continue with your testimony.”  And then, as she did every day at close of court, the judge turned to the jury.  “We will adjourn until tomorrow,” she said.  “I caution you not to discuss any part of this case, either among yourselves or with anyone else during that time.”  And then she banged her gavel.  “Court will be in recess until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

A rare tactical error on Lily’s part, John Henry thought smugly.  He was delighted to let the jury spend the night thinking over Lauren Scott’s glowing tribute to her husband.

. . .

They sat around the table in the conference room of the Victorian late into the evening -- Lily, Joe, Megan, and Dancer -- saying little, staring at the file spread out in front of them.

It was the medical file of one Margaret Dean, smuggled out of the Trent Community Hospital by an emergency room nurse, and it was complete with charts, notes, x-rays, and photographs that told a three-year story of grim and escalating brutality.

“My God,” Megan breathed finally, when every word had been read, and every x-ray and photo had been scrutinized.  “How could this have been happening all that time, and nobody knew?”

“Because someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure nobody knew,” Joe suggested.

“No, someone knew,” Lily said in disgust.  “Someone knew, and went to a lot of trouble to make sure nobody else found out.”

“Sometimes, it’s easier to pretend something isn’t happening, than to do something about it,” Dancer said.

“I have a question,” Megan declared.  “Why didn’t the hospital do something about it?  The law is clear, isn’t it?  This sort of thing has to be reported.”

“Unfortunately, there are always ways to get around that,” Lily said.

Wanda appeared in the doorway.  “I ran the name and the number,” she reported.  “Margaret Dean was the maternal great-grandmother.  It was her social security number they used.  She lived in Minneapolis.  Died in 1979.”

Lily nodded.  “It had to be something like that.”

“But what does it have to do with our case?” Megan asked.

“Maybe nothing, maybe everything,” Lily said with a deep sigh.  “You think you know people, and then something like this comes along, and you realize you never really knew them at all.”

Joe stood up.  “It’s this kind of thing that makes you understand why people can kill,” he said.

Lily nodded.  “It’s late,” she said.  “Let’s go home.  We’re going to have a tough day ahead of us tomorrow.”

. . .

At nine o’clock the following morning, Lauren Scott returned to the witness stand, this time wearing a long-sleeved, high-necked teal green silk blouse, over a full, flowery skirt.

Lily was wearing a simple beige suit that, like several others in the sweltering courtroom, was lightweight and open-collared.  She rose slowly from behind the defense table.

“Mrs. Scott, yesterday you described your husband as being strong physically, emotionally, and spiritually, is that correct?” she inquired.

“Yes,” Lauren replied.

“When you say he was spiritually strong, do you mean he had a keen sense of right and wrong?”

“That was part of it.”

“We’ve heard previous testimony that your husband had a bad temper and was often violent on the job -- is that the sense of right and wrong you had in mind?”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Lauren said a bit stiffly.

“In fact, we heard that he beat up a homeless man so badly, he ended up in the hospital.”

“Dale didn’t discuss his work with me.”

“Then on what do you base your rather glowing evaluation of him?” Lily inquired.

“On how he behaved at home,” Lauren replied.

“I see.  So what you’re saying is that, at home, Dale knew right from wrong, and always acted accordingly, is that correct?”

In the witness chair, Lauren uncrossed and then re-crossed her legs.  “Yes, that’s what I said.”

“He was never violent at home?”

“No, of course he wasn’t.”

“He never lost his temper and he never flew into a rage over anything at home?”

Lauren shifted uncomfortably in the witness chair.  “Not that I can recall.”

“He never took the stress of his job out on you or on your children?”

“Certainly not.  He loved his children.”

“And you?”

“Well, he loved me, too, of course.”

“Of course,” Lily murmured.  “All right, you’ve testified that you and your husband occasionally used recreational drugs, is that correct?”

“Yes, we did.”

“How many times would you say you did that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, would you say it was so many you’ve lost count -- or so few, you can’t recall?” the defense attorney pressed.

“Maybe half a dozen times,” the witness responded reluctantly.

“Only half a dozen times?  In thirteen years of marriage?”

“Yes.”

“And this recreational use you refer to -- was it at the beginning of your marriage, in the middle of your marriage, at the end of your marriage, or was it spread throughout your marriage?”

“I don’t know -- towards the end, I guess.”  Even the jury could see that the widow was uncomfortable with this line of questioning.

“And what drugs did you use?”

Lauren blinked.  “I didn’t know what they were -- it was whatever Dale brought home to try.”

“You didn’t know what the drugs were, but you used them anyway?”

“I didn’t ask.  I didn’t think I had to.  I trusted my husband.  Besides, we were just experimenting.”

“Well, let’s see if we can figure it out -- tell us, how did you use the drugs?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t