Salem Falls Part 57

"Yes."

"Your blood was on her clothes because she was trying to clean up that scratch by dabbing it with her s.h.i.+rt?"

"Yes."

Matt frowned. "Then what's your explanation for why s.e.m.e.n matching yours was found on her thigh?"

"Objection!" Jordan leaped up, furious. "Approach!"

The judge waved the attorneys closer. "The s.e.m.e.n wasn't a match," Jordan said angrily. "The state's expert even deemed the results inconclusive."

Matt scowled. "She said this defendant was seven hundred forty thousand times more likely to have been the donor of the s.e.m.e.n than anyone else. Those are still pretty d.a.m.n good odds."

"However," the judge said, "it's too prejudicial. The jury has the information about the s.e.m.e.n; they can do with it what they will. I'm sorry, Mr. Houlihan, but I'm not going to allow you to pursue that line of questioning." She turned to the jury as the lawyers returned to their corners. "You'll disregard that last question," Judge Justice instructed, although Matt's words still hung in the air, as sharp and as precarious as a guillotine's blade.

"Mr. St. Bride," Matt said, "you find yourself in the woods with a quartet of teenage girls who are not only perhaps interested in having s.e.x ... but are naked naked ... yet you don't turn around and run as fast as humanly possible away from there?" ... yet you don't turn around and run as fast as humanly possible away from there?"

"I said I needed to get away, over and over."

"Actually, you said you jumped over a fire hand in hand with one of them. And that you looked around closely enough to see there were things hanging from the trees."

"I also said that Gillian Duncan was the one who came on to me me," Jack said, trying very hard to keep his voice from rising.

"Was anyone else around when she attacked you?"

"No."

"Where were the other girls?"

"I don't know."

"How convenient. Was she still naked?"

Jack shook his head. "She had gotten dressed."

"And then she proceeded to throw herself at you?"

"Yes."

Matt crossed his arms. "This five-foot-four, one-hundred-ten-pound girl forcibly held you there?"

"I got away as quickly as I could. I said no, shoved her off me, and ran. Period."

"So ... this is the second time in a s.p.a.ce of two years that a teenage girl has falsely accused you of s.e.xual a.s.sault?"

"That's correct." Heat climbed the ladder of Jack's neck.

Matt raised his brows. "Aren't you asking the jury to believe you're the unluckiest man on the face of this earth?"

Jack took a deep breath. "I'm asking the jury to believe me."

"Believe you," Matt repeated. "Believe "Believe you. Huh. Mr. St. Bride, you heard the expert who testified that soil from your boots matches the soil in the clearing of the woods?" you. Huh. Mr. St. Bride, you heard the expert who testified that soil from your boots matches the soil in the clearing of the woods?"

"Yes, I did."

"And you heard the DNA expert who showed that your blood was on Ms. Duncan's clothing and your skin was underneath her fingernails?"

"Yes."

"You heard Ms. Duncan testify that you were with her that night?"

"Yes."

"And you heard Ms. Abrams and Ms. O'Neill corroborate that?"

"Yes, I did."

"You've seen numerous amounts of evidence that place you at the crime scene, isn't that right?"

"Yes."

Matt tilted his head, questioning. "Then how come when the police came to arrest you, the very first thing you did was lie about being there?"

Jack's mouth opened and closed, no words rising to the surface. "I-I don't know," he finally managed to say. "It was an instinctive response."

"Lying is an instinctive response for you?"

"That's not what I meant-"

"But," Matt argued, "it's what you said. Did you or did you not already lie once about your whereabouts that night?"

"Yes, I did," Jack murmured.

The prosecutor turned and pinned him with his gaze. "Then why should the jury believe you now?" now?"

"He's good," Selena mused. "He's really, really good."

Jordan slammed the car door and stalked up the walk toward his house. "If you're such a huge fan, then why don't you go sleep with Matt Houlihan tonight?"

The defense had rested and court had been dismissed. Closing arguments would begin the next morning, which meant Jordan had approximately seventeen hours to conjure sheer brilliance. Burning against his heart was the little packet Stars.h.i.+ne had given him for Jack's defense. He was going to sleep with it under his G.o.dd.a.m.n pillow; at this point, he'd take any help he could get.

He knew and the prosecutor knew-and even the jury knew-that Jordan had not conducted a defense of his client-he'd simply tried to make Gillian out to be something other than the little princess she made herself out to be. But a witch could be raped. A drug user could be raped. And if Jordan had been sitting on that jury, he would not have been inclined to believe anything Jack St. Bride had to say.

At the door, he tried to jam his key into the lock and couldn't manage to get it to fit. "G.o.dd.a.m.n," he said, wedging it in again. "G.o.ddammit!" "G.o.ddammit!"

A second attempt, and the key stuck fast. With a mighty wrench, Jordan managed to pull it free of the hole, then swore and hurled his entire key chain into the bushes off the porch. He stared after it, his whole body shaking.

"Jordan," Selena said, touching his arm.

He burrowed into her embrace, pressed his face against her neck, and silently apologized to Jack St. Bride.

Addie volunteered to close up the diner. "Come upstairs," Roy urged through the door of the ladies' room, as she changed. "We'll have iced tea, watch a little TV."

Zipping up her uniform, Addie came out of the restroom. "Dad, I need to do this. I want want to do this." What she really wanted, actually, was to hit something until her bones broke. Scouring floors, scrubbing counters, wiping the grill-these were better uses of her time. to do this." What she really wanted, actually, was to hit something until her bones broke. Scouring floors, scrubbing counters, wiping the grill-these were better uses of her time.

She pushed past her father into the kitchen. It always seemed like a ghost town after hours, bathed in shades of gray and haunted by the scents of the foods it had harbored. Addie picked up the wire brush that hung on the side of the stove and began to sc.r.a.pe down the grill with brusque, mechanical movements.

"I'll help you, then," her father said, rolling up his sleeves.

"Dad." She met his eyes. "Right now, I just want to be alone."

"Ah, Addie." Roy moved forward, hugging her tightly, until the wire brush dropped from her hand and her sob curled into his chest like a kitten's mewing.

"I'm not going to be able to say good-bye," Addie whispered. "Visiting hours aren't until next Wednesday. And by then ... by then, he could be in the prison in Concord."

"Then you'll go visit in Concord. I'll drive you every day after work, if I have to."

Addie offered him a weak smile. "On what, Dad? The lawn mower?" She squeezed his hand. "Maybe I will come up for iced tea, all right? Just give me a while to sort things out in my head."

She felt her father's eyes on her as she took a jug of bleach from a shelf and began to wash down the dishwas.h.i.+ng table and stainless sinks. Her mother used to say that a little bleach could go a long way toward making the shabbiest circ.u.mstances s.h.i.+ne.

Her mother had not been in love with Jack St. Bride.

Once Roy went upstairs, Addie attacked the kitchen. She rubbed down the sneeze guard of the cold table and wiped clean its cool innards. She sc.r.a.ped burned patches from the base of the oven. She scrubbed and washed until her knuckles bled within her rubber gloves, and she had to wrap her hands in a damp dishcloth, just to ease the pain.

She was working with such a frenzy, she never heard the front door of the diner open. "I hope you're paying yourself well," Charlie said.

Addie jumped a foot, slamming her head against the base of the warming table. "Oh!"

"Jeez, Addie, are you all right?" Charlie rushed forward to help her, but the moment he was within the range of being able to touch, they both froze. Addie backed off, her hand to her forehead.

"Fine. That was just stupid of me." She hugged her arms to her chest. "Is this about Jack?"

Charlie shook his head. "Is there ... could we sit down for a second?"

Nodding slowly, Addie followed him into the front room of the diner. They slid across from each other in a booth. The barrier of a table between them helped, and being away from the bleach fumes cleared her head. But Charlie showed no signs of speaking. "How is Meg?" Addie asked after a moment.

"All right. Thanks for asking." Charlie tapped his fingertips on the table. "After all that's been said in that courtroom, I don't know what's going to come of her, really."

"Take it one day at a time." Addie looked at the clock. Swallowed.

"Addie," Charlie said, "I owe you an apology."

Her eyes reluctantly met his. "Why?"

"I've been listening to the testimony. And I've been helping the prosecution for weeks. And it's made me ... it's made it all come back clearer than ever. G.o.d, I'm doing a s.h.i.+tty job of this ..." Charlie rubbed his hand over his face. "I thought I'd live in Miami, get a job on the force, and just forget Salem Falls. Then Chief Rudlow invited me back north, and I told myself enough time had pa.s.sed to just wipe away the memory. After nearly a decade, I a.s.sumed that if I didn't think about it, no one else would, either." He hunched over the table, as if drawing strength from within. "But you've thought about, every day, haven't you?"

Addie closed her eyes, then nodded.

"I knew what was coming that afternoon under the bleachers, when Amos called you over. I was drunk, sure, but I knew what I was doing. And for reasons I can't even stand to think of, I went along with it ... and then followed the others, when they acted like it hadn't happened at all." Charlie lowered his gaze. "d.a.m.n, Addie, how do you tell someone you're sorry you ruined their life?"

It took Addie a long time to speak. "You didn't ruin my life, Charlie. You raped me. There's a difference: One, I couldn't keep from happening ... but the other, I could. I did." did." She thought of Chloe, of Jack. "The more you get past pain, the more it goes from coal to diamond." She thought of Chloe, of Jack. "The more you get past pain, the more it goes from coal to diamond."

Charlie's eyes were red-rimmed, stricken. "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me, and I know I can't ask you to forget. But I want you to know, for whatever it's worth, that I don't forgive myself ... and I'll never forget, either."

"Thank you," Addie whispered, "for that."

She heard the door jingle closed behind him and she sat at the booth with her legs completely limp, waiting for her heart to stop beating triple-time. After all these years, who would have expected validation? After all these years, who would have expected that simply hearing the words made her feel like starting over?

She was jolted out of her reverie by the sound of the door opening again. Charlie must have forgotten something. But before she could turn around, Addie heard the voice of a young woman, the thud of a suitcase being dropped on the floor. "They said I'd find you here."

And suddenly Addie was face to face with Catherine Marsh.

July 5, 2000 Carroll County Courthouse The air in the courtroom was thick the next morning, so heavy with antic.i.p.ation it beaded on the foreheads of the reporters and misted the lenses of the camera crews. Judge Justice strode to the bench with the air of a magistrate whose mind is already turned toward her next case. "I believe we're starting the day with closing arguments," she said. "Mr. McAfee, are you ready to begin?"

Jordan stood. "Actually, Your Honor, I need to reopen my case."

A moment later, he and Houlihan were standing at the bench. "I have another witness," Jordan explained. "An unexpected one, whose testimony is crucial to the defense."

"Perhaps you'd like to tell me why you didn't know about her before?" the judge asked. "Does the state know this witness and what they're going to testify to?"

"No, I don't," Matt said, irritated. "The defense already rested. You didn't see me dancing a parade of new witnesses in front of the court after the prosecution finished."

"Judge," Jordan explained, "it's the victim from my client's previous conviction. She's recanting."

"Which is totally irrelevant. It's too late," Matt insisted.

The judge stared at each lawyer in turn, then addressed the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, you may recall that yesterday the defense rested. However, the court is going to allow Mr. McAfee to reopen his case to call one final witness."

Jordan smoothed down his tie and glanced toward the rear of the courtroom. "The defense calls Catherine Marsh."

She was small and shaken, and Jordan had his doubts about whether she would even make it to the stand without a.s.sistance. But at the steps, Catherine rallied, repeating the words to swear herself in in a true, ringing voice.

"How old are you, Ms. Marsh?"

"I'm sixteen."

Jordan glanced at his client. "Do you know Jack St. Bride?"

It was the first chance Catherine had to see her former teacher. She met Jack's eyes, and a story hung between them, one torn into a spotty snowflake pattern by contrition. "Yes, I do," she murmured.

"How?"

Catherine took a deep breath. "I'm the one he was convicted of s.e.xually a.s.saulting last year."

A gasp rolled through the courtroom like a tide. "Why are you here today, Ms. Marsh?"