The deputy D.A. ticked off a list of reasons the accused should remain incarcerated. Weight of evidence. Danger to the community. Undeniable flight risk. The savage nature of the crime, he declared, pointed to the defendants brutal nature. Miranda could not believe that this monster he kept referring to was her. Is that what they all think of me? she wondered, feeling the gaze of the audience on her back. That Im evil? That I would kill again?
Only when she was asked, twice, to stand for Judge Klimenkos decision did her attention shift back to the present. Trembling, she rose to her feet and gazed up at the pair of eyes peering down at her over bifocals.
Bail is set at one hundred thousand dollars cash or two hundred thousand dollars secured property. The gavel slammed down. Court dismissed.
Miranda was stunned. Even as the audience milled around behind her, she stood frozen in despair.
Its the best I could do, Pelham whispered.
It might as well have been a million. She would never be able to raise it.
Come on, Ms. Wood, said the bailiff. Time to go back.
In silence she let herself be escorted across the room, past the gazes of all those prying eyes. Only for a second did she pause, to glance back over her shoulder at Chase Tremain. As their gazes locked she thought she saw, for an instant, a flicker of something she hadnt seen before. Compassion. Just as quickly, it was gone.
Fighting tears, she turned and followed the bailiff through the side door.
Back to jail.
That will keep her locked away, said Evelyn.
A hundred thousand? Chase shook his head. It doesnt seem out of reach.
Not for us, maybe. But for someone like her? Evelyn snorted. The look of satisfaction on her flawlessly made-up face was not becoming. No. No, I think Ms. Miranda Wood will be staying right where she belongs. Behind bars.
She hasnt budged an inch, said Lorne Tibbetts. Weve been questioning her for a week straight now and she sticks to that story like glue.
It doesnt matter, said Evelyn. Facts are facts. She cant refute them.
They were sitting outside, on Evelyns veranda. At mid-morning theyd been driven from the house by the heat; the sun streaming in the windows had turned the rooms into ovens. Chase had forgotten about these hot August days. In his memory, Maine was forever cool, forever immune to the miseries of summer. So much for childhood memories. He poured another glass of iced tea and handed the pitcher over to Tibbetts.
So what do you think, Lorne? asked Chase. You have enough to convict?
Maybe. There are holes in the evidence.
What holes? demanded Evelyn.
Chase thought, my sister-in-law is back to her old self again. No more hysterics since that day at the police station. She looked cool and in control, which is how hed always remembered her from their childhood. Evelyn the ice queen.
Theres the matter of the fingerprints, said Tibbetts.
What do you mean? asked Chase. Werent they on the knife?
Thats the problem. The knife handle was wiped clean. Now, that doesnt make a lot of sense to me. Heres this crime of passion, see? She uses her own knife. Pure impulse. So why does she bother to wipe off the fingerprints?
She must be brighter than you think, Evelyn said, sniffing. Shes already got you confused.
Anyway, it doesnt go along with an impulse killing.
What other problems do you have with the case? asked Chase.
The suspect herself. Shes a tough nut to crack.
Of course she is. Shes fighting for her life, said Evelyn.
She passed the polygraph.
She submitted to one? asked Chase.
She insisted on it. Not that it wouldve hurt her case if she flunked. Its not admissible evidence.
So why should it change your mind? asked Evelyn.
It doesnt. It just bothers me.
Chase stared off toward the sea. He, too, was bothered. Not by the facts, but by his own instincts.
Logic, evidence, told him that Miranda Wood was the killer. Why did he have such a hard time believing it?
The doubts had started a week ago, in that police station hallway. Hed watched the whole interrogation. Hed heard her denials, her lame explanations. He hadnt been swayed. But when theyd come face-to-face in the hall, and shed looked him straight in the eye, hed felt the first stirrings of doubt. Would a murderess meet his gaze so unflinchingly? Would she face an accuser with such bald courage? Even when Evelyn had appeared, Miranda hadnt ducked for cover. Instead, shed said the unexpected. He loved you. I want you to know that. Of all the things a murderess might have said, that was the most startling. It was an act of kindness, an honest attempt to comfort the widow. It earned her no points, no stars in court. She could simply have walked past, ignoring Evelyn, leaving her to her grief. Instead, Miranda had reached out in pity to the other woman.
Chase did not understand it.
Theres no question but that the weight of the evidence is against her, said Tibbetts. Obviously, thats what the judge thought. Just look at the bail he set. He knew shed never come up with that kind of cash. So she wont be walking out anytime soon. Unless shes been hiding a rich uncle somewhere.
Hardly, said Evelyn. A woman like that could only come from the wrong side of the tracks.
Wrong side of the tracks, thought Chase. Meaning poor. But not trash. Hed been able to see that through the one-way mirror. Trash was cheap, easily bent, easily bought. Miranda Wood was none of those.
A car marked Shepherds Island Police pulled up in the driveway.
Tibbetts sighed. Geez, they just wont leave me alone. Even on my day off.
Ellis Snipe, spindly in his cops uniform, climbed out. His boots crunched toward them across the gravel. Hey, Lorne, he called up to the veranda. I figured you was here.
Its Saturday, Ellis.
Yeah, I know. But we sort of got us a problem.
If its that washroom again, just call the plumber. Ill okay the work order.
No, its that Ellis glanced uneasily at Evelyn. Its that Miranda Wood woman.
Tibbetts rose to his feet and went over to the veranda railing. What about her?
You know that hundred thousand bail they set?
Yeah.
Well, someone paid it.
What?
Someones paid it. We just got the order to release her.
There was a long silence on the veranda. Then, in a low voice laced with venom, Evelyn said, Who paid it?
Dunno, said Ellis. Court says it was anonymous. Came through some Boston lawyer. So what do we do, huh, Lorne?
Tibbetts let out a deep breath. He rubbed his neck, shifted his weight back and forth a few times. Then he said, Im sorry, Evelyn.
Lorne, you cant do this! she cried.
I dont have a choice. He turned back to the other cop. You got the court order, Ellis. Let her walk.
I dont understand, said Miranda, staring in bewilderment at her attorney. Who would do this for me?
A friend, obviously, was Randall Pelhams dry response. A very good friend.
But I dont have any friends with that kind of money. No one with a hundred thousand to spare.
Well, someones putting up the bail. My advice is, dont look a gift horse in the mouth.
If I just knew who it was
Its been handled through some Boston attorney who says his client wishes to stay anonymous.
Why?
Maybe the donors embarrassed.
To be helping a murderess, she thought.
Its his or her right to remain anonymous. I say, take it. The alternative is to stay in jail. Not exactly the most comfortable spot to be in.
She let out a deep breath. No, it isnt. In fact, it had been horribly bleak in that cell. Shed spent the past week staring at the window, longing for the simple pleasure of a walk by the sea. Or a decent meal. Or just the warmth of the sunshine on her face. Now it was all within reach.
I wish I knew who to thank, she said softly.
Not possible, Miranda. I say, just accept the favor. He snapped his briefcase shut.
Suddenly he irritated her, this kid barely out of braces, so smart and snazzy in his gray suit. Randall Pelham, Esquire.
The arrangements are made. You can leave this afternoon. Will you be staying at your house?
She paused, shuddering at the memory of Richards body in her bed. The house had since been cleaned, courtesy of a housekeeping service. Her neighbor Mr. Lanzo had arranged it all, had told her the place looked fine now. It would be as if nothing had happened in that bedroom. There would be no signs of violence at all.
Except in her memory.
But where else could she go?
She nodded. II suppose Ill go home.
You know the drill, right? Dont leave the county. Bass Harbors as far as you can go. Stay in touch at all times. And dont, I repeat dont, go around discussing the case. My jobs tough enough as it is.
And we wouldnt want to tax your abilities, would we? she said under her breath.
He didnt seem to hear the comment. Or maybe he was ignoring her. He strode out of the cell, then turned to gaze at her. We can still try a plea bargain.
She looked him in the eye. No.
That way we could limit the damage. You could walk out of here in ten years instead of twenty-five.
I didnt kill him.
For a moment Pelham returned her gaze. With a shrug of impatience, he turned. Plea bargain, he said. Thats my advice. Think about it.
She did think about it, all afternoon as she sat in that stark cell waiting for the release papers.
But as soon as she stepped out of the building and walked, as a free woman, into the sunshine, all thoughts of trading away even ten years of her life seemed unimaginable. She stood there on the sidewalk, gazing up at the sky, inhaling the sweetest air shed ever breathed in her life.
She decided to walk the mile to her house.
By the time she came within sight of her front yard, her cheeks were flushed, her muscles pleasantly tired. The house looked the same as it always had, shingled cottage, trim lawn which someone had obviously watered in her absence brick walkway, a hedge of hydrangea bushes sprouting fluffy white clouds of flowers. Not a large house, but it was hers.
She started up the walkway.
Only when shed mounted the porch steps did she see the vicious words someone had soaped on her front window. She halted, stung by the cruelty of the message.
Killer.
In sudden fury she swiped at the glass with her sleeve. The accusing words dissolved into soapy streaks. Who could have written such a horrible thing? Surely none of her neighbors. Kids. Yes, thats who it must have been. A bunch of punks. Or summer people.