A Sister's Forgiveness (22 page)

He shrugged.

“Matthew, please step out into the hallway with me for a minute.” The suppressed giggles of a couple of his fellow students followed him to the door. “That’ll do, class,” Miss Kurtz scolded as she followed him into the hallway.

Matt waited, his mind racing with the excuses he might offer for his poor performance lately.

His teacher sighed. “What’s going on? Talk to me, Matt.”

“Ma’am?”

Another heavy sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Matt Keller. You are an excellent student, as your sister was before you. But these last several days…”

“My cousin was killed, and my sister killed her,” he reminded her and was as surprised as she obviously was by the sarcasm that colored every word.

“Manners, young man,” she scolded, but he could tell that her heart wasn’t in it. She was looking at him strangely. “Is there something you need to talk about, Matt?”

“No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am. Can I go now?”

She opened the door to the classroom and waited for him to return to his desk, but her question stayed with him.

Yeah. I need to talk about why God would let Tessa die and in such a terrible way, and why He would make it so that it’s my sister who killed her, and why my mom keeps talking about how this is our “Job time,” and why when I need to talk to him more than ever, my uncle Geoff looks at me like I’m somebody he’d like to never see again
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Chapter 24

Sadie

I
n the surreal state that she had dwelled in ever since the accident, Sadie tried hard to focus on what her lawyer was telling her.

He was semi-cute for someone over thirty. Not as good-looking as Dan by any stretch of the imagination. He was of average height and slim, whereas Dan was tall and muscular. And the lawyer’s hair was wavy and light brown while Dan’s was the color of sunflower petals.

She had seen Dan’s parents glaring at her when she turned around as her dad had practically jumped the barricade. The guard that had ridden with her to court had told her that they had been unable to reach her parents to let them know she’d spent the night in the infirmary.

“They turn the phone off for the day when we have supper,” she’d explained.

“We left a message.”

“They wouldn’t hear it until they turned the phone on this morning, which they probably haven’t done because Dad isn’t going to work today since he’s coming to court.”

“You don’t have a cell phone?” The woman had seemed stunned at the very idea of being so out of touch.

Sadie had actually laughed. “It’s not our way.” She quoted the line her parents had given her and Matt time and again. But laughing made her jaw ache where the other girl had hit her, and she quickly sobered. “You’d be surprised at all the things that are not our way,” she added.

Like courtrooms and detention centers and lawyers. For the hundredth time she wondered how Joseph Cotter had managed to persuade her parents that her only chance was a plea of not guilty when she couldn’t be guiltier. It was not their way to lie—even about something so horrid.

“All rise,” the bailiff announced.

Sadie felt her hands begin to shake, and she clasped them behind her back as she got to her feet and waited for the judge—a small dark-haired man with black-rimmed reading glasses perched on the end of his nose—to take his seat. The high-backed chair seemed way too large for him in exactly the same way that Matt’s Sunday clothes seemed too large for him.

In unison everyone else took their seats, and a hush fell over the room. It was a little like being in church the way everybody did stuff at the exact same moment. The bailiff handed the judge some papers, and they exchanged a brief but unintelligible conversation. Then the judge glanced up. He looked first at Sadie, studying her face for a moment, and then she realized that he was looking at her parents behind her. His dark, thin eyebrows lifted slightly, and he cleared his throat and turned his attention to the state’s attorney.

“I assume you have an opening statement, Mr. Johnson?”

The prosecutor was on his feet at once, striding to the podium reserved for his side while Joseph Cotter remained seated next to her.

Sadie tried hard to focus on what Mr. Johnson was saying, but her mind wandered. She wondered why Dan’s parents were here. She wondered where Dan was and if he was mad at her. She had tried using one of her phone privileges at the detention center to call him, but his cell had been disconnected. And when she tried calling his house, his mother had told her in no uncertain terms that Dan was not available and she should not call their number again.

It had been worse the time she had tried calling Aunt Jeannie. Uncle Geoff had answered the phone, and hearing his voice—so sad and devoid of his usual good humor—she had burst into tears. There had been a long pause on the other end of the line and then a soft click as her uncle hung up on her. She had tried to call a few other times in the three weeks she had spent at the detention center awaiting her hearing, but neither Jeannie nor Geoff had ever picked up, and when the phone had gone to voice mail, Sadie had found that she had no words. On those occasions, she had been the one to hang up, and finally she had stopped calling.

“…show that she exceeded the speed limit and drove erratically in conditions that were dangerous for her, her passenger, and anyone she might encounter. Further…”

Johnson was talking about her. He was making her sound like an irresponsible monster, like someone who had intentionally set out to hurt Tessa. That wasn’t the way it was at all. She had tried to be so careful about staying under the speed limit. Then Dan had said that she needed to speed up, and she had remembered that on the way to the picnic when Jeannie let her drive, her aunt had told her that it was sometimes as dangerous to go too slow as it was to drive too fast. “You’ll soon get the rhythm of it,” Jeannie had told her.

Sadie felt her lawyer staring at her and realized that she was close to smiling at the thought of time spent with her aunt. She was drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. Joseph nodded toward her fingers and frowned. Sadie folded her hands together to hold them still and tried to concentrate on what the state’s attorney was saying.

“Call your first witness,” the judge said. He shuffled the papers on his high desk and then looked up as the bailiff escorted Mr. Diehn, Tessa’s neighbor, to the stand.

“Please state your occupation and home address, sir,” the attorney instructed.

Mr. Diehn—who was a little hard of hearing—did so in the loud voice that was his normal conversational tone.

“And tell us what you were doing just before seven thirty on the morning of August 28th.”

“I was leaving for work. It was raining, and I had just pulled out onto the street and driven to the corner.”

“What were the road conditions?”

“Well, it hadn’t rained for several weeks—most of the summer we were in a drought, don’t you know. The rain was coming down in sheets, don’t you know, and the roads were covered over in places. And slick,” he added as an afterthought.

“Did you see this car that morning?” Mr. Johnson held up a photograph of Dan’s car and went through the routine of entering it into evidence. Sadie half expected Joseph to object, but he didn’t, just made scribbled notes on his yellow legal pad in a script that was so tiny Sadie couldn’t begin to read it.

“Sure did. That car almost ran smack into me. If I hadn’t—”

“Who was driving the car?”

“Well now, like I said, there was a torrential rain coming down, and windows were fogged with the humidity and all, so I can’t be all that sure.” He turned to the judge. “I had the air conditioning turned up, helps make the defrost cycle work better, don’t you know.”

Joseph was on his feet immediately. “Objection. Calls for legal conclusion.”

“Sustained,” the judge murmured.

Mr. Johnson started to ask his next question, but Mr. Diehn turned back to him and interrupted. “I do know that there were two people in that car, and I do know that it was going a little too fast for the conditions.” He seemed satisfied with his answer, punctuating it with a sharp nod of his head.

Joseph stood up a second time. “Objection.”

“Sustained,” the judge repeated before Joseph could even say why he’d objected.

Mr. Johnson returned to the prosecutor’s table and sat down. Joseph stood up and smiled at Mr. Diehn. “Good morning, sir. Just a few more minutes of your time. Did your car skid or slide on the morning in question?”

“No sir. I’m a cautious driver. My wife says sometimes I’m too cautious.”

“Did the car you saw like the one in the photograph slide or skid?”

Mr. Diehn frowned. “Not that I noticed—just came at me a little close, you know? A little too close.”

“Then how did you determine that the rain had made the roads slippery?”

“Common sense. No rain for weeks is bound to result in a buildup of oil and other stuff from cars running over the same road time after time. Bound to be.”

“And you say your windows were steamed up with humidity, and the pouring rain made for poor visibility?”

“That’s right. Those youngsters could barely see their hand in front of them much less—”

“And what about you, Mr. Diehn? I know you said you had your air conditioning and the defroster running, but were the windows on your car steamed over, and did the pouring rain in even a small way hamper your ability to see clearly?”

Mr. Diehn glanced past Joseph at Mr. Johnson, who did not look back at him. “I reckon you’ve got a point there,” he admitted.

“So just to be clear, you saw a car that resembled the one the state’s attorney showed you in the photograph turn the corner where you were waiting—”

“At an unsafe speed,” Mr. Diehn interrupted.

Joseph smiled. “Ah yes. Thank you for reminding me. And how were you able to determine the speed of this other car?”

Mr. Diehn actually grinned. “Instinct and over forty years of driving, son.”

“And did this car hit your vehicle?”

“Came pretty close.”

“But no actual contact—no damage? You didn’t have to veer out of its way?”

“No. I gave the driver a blast of my horn, and that probably was the reason why that car—” He pointed toward the photo lying on the prosecutor’s desk.

“Thank you, sir. No further questions.”

Mr. Johnson called his next witness, another neighbor that lived next door to Tessa. She and her husband had heard the crash and come running outside. Her husband had been the one relaying information to the 911 operator. But as far as Sadie could tell, Joseph was able to make it clear that neither this woman nor her husband had seen the actual accident or events that may have led up to it.

There were three other neighbors and one other driver whom Sadie must have passed while making the trip to Tessa’s house, but none of them really added much to the state’s case. Then a forensics expert as well as the surgeon who had operated on Tessa were called to testify.

Each of them laid out the massive injuries that had led to Tessa’s death—a broken collar bone, broken ribs, a torn spleen, injury to her lungs, injury to her liver, brain injuries, and internal bleeding.

One thing that Sadie had noticed was that unlike the dramatic court scenes on television, here the lawyers and judge spoke to each other in normal tones. They didn’t seem to worry about whether those in the chairs behind the little wooden fence could hear. Sadie herself had to sit forward and really listen hard to follow what was happening. The list of Tessa’s injuries was delivered in a dry, no-nonsense manner that irritated her.

This was Tessa they were talking about. Tessa who had sustained these horrific assaults to her body. Had she felt pain? Had she known she was dying? Had she forgiven Sadie before she died?

She was starting to feel nauseous as the list of injuries was repeated. Every time the doctor named one of the things that had contributed to Tessa’s death, it felt as if he were hurling stones at Sadie. Her mind raced with images of her cousin’s lifeless body. She tried to concentrate on something else and block out the drone of the testimony. What she wouldn’t give for a bowl of her mom’s chicken noodle soup. That would settle her stomach.