Mothers and Other Liars by Amy Bourret

Author:Amy Bourret [Bourret, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Psychological fiction, Contemporary Women, Foundlings, Mothers and daughters, Family Life, General, Psychological, Santa Fe (N.M.), Young women, Large type books, Fiction
ISBN: 9781602858961
Publisher: Center Point Pub
Published: 2010-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

FIFTY-EIGHT

“Your Honor,” John says, “at this time the defense moves to dismiss the kidnapping count. The prosecution has failed to establish the required elements of the offense with which Ms. Leander has been charged.” With which, Ruby notes, no dangling preposition; her high school English teacher would love this guy. “Specifically, they have failed to show that Ms. Leander possessed the applicable mens rea at the time she rescued that infant from a garbage can.”

John has explained all this to her, the legal maneuvering. He will make this motion; in all likelihood the judge will deny it. Judges are generally reluctant to cut the prosecution off at the knees, deprive the jury of the chance to weigh in on the case.

“Denied. We’ll let the jury decide that.” The judge looks at his watch, leans over to whisper with the bailiff. “On that note, we’ll adjourn for the day, pick up with the defense tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp.” He cautions the jury not to discuss the case with anyone, sweeps down from the dais and through the back door, robe flying out like the wings of a giant black bird.

The courtroom is an impaled anthill, jurors scurrying from their tiered swivel seats, reporters fleeing out the main door. Ruby and John wait for the swarm of people to subside, then step out into the hall, just in time to see the Tinsdales and their entourage. Mr. Tinsdale leads his tiny parade like a drum major—a sleek briefcase his baton—across the shiny tiles, around the corner, and out of sight. Ruby gulps tepid water from a drinking fountain, waits on a heavy bench while John steps into the men’s room.

John returns, retrieves his cell phone from the marshal’s desk, and they take the elevator down to the first floor. Outside, the furnace is still oppressive. The air is a damp wool blanket thrown in Ruby’s face.

While John steps off to the side to check messages and return calls, Ruby waits beside one of the concrete barricades that stands sentry in front of the glass doors. To her left is a McDonald’s and just beyond, a bus station, and proof that Dallas is indeed populated. A cluster of black women pushes out the door of the restaurant, some with toothpick legs and scrawny bodies, some dirigibles ready to burst, all wearing tight working-girl skirts and genuine smiles. A scattering of rough-looking men, the inner-city huddled masses, hoot at the women as they pass.

Ruby feels the cooler shadow of another body step between her and the shimmering heat. She turns, expecting Little Miss Red Suit or some other pest, but finds instead Darla Tinsdale.

“I want to hate you.” Darla’s voice is fuzzy. “I want to…”

“I’m sorry.” These are the only words that can form in Ruby’s mouth. “I am so sorry.”

Darla raises a hand. For a moment Ruby thinks the woman is going to slap her. Then she realizes her intent is to halt Ruby’s words, a crossing guard stopping tongue traffic.

“I

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