Witness01 - Hostile Witness by Rebecca Forster

Author:Rebecca Forster [Forster, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Legal
Publisher: Rebecca Forster
Published: 2011-12-12T16:50:56+00:00

21

''This one's over.'' - Maeve Clark, reporter, to herself.

Josie learned how to hold her breath when she was ten. Not just hold it for a minute, but hold it as if it was a matter of life or death.

The first morning they were in Hawaii, before the boxes were unpacked, Emily Baylor-Bates bundled her daughter into their old car and drove off the base to find an adventure.

Two hours later Emily and Josie picked their way down a bluff through a light tropical rain toward a stretch of white beach, blue water and waves that curled on to each other. Laughing, meeting the waves head on, Emily ran into the water. Josie went after, apprehensive but so anxious to be her mother's daughter. Emily turned her back. A wave caught her and lifted her up. She reached out her hands calling to Josie over the roar, moving further into the bright blue water, moving away from Josie.

Josie, smaller and more vulnerable than Emily, was buffeted by the waves. It took all her might to stand her ground. One hit her. Another came. A third slapped her down, dragging her into a whirlpool of sand and water. Josie was twisted head over heels, her small arms flailing, until she didn't know which way was up or where down was. She hit the sand hard. Salt stung her shoulder where it was scraped bloody by shell and rock. Over and over again Josie was tumbled and dragged on the rocky bottom only to be sucked back up into the churning, crystalline bubble of water. She was suffocating. Death was around the corner. There was no savior in sight. She wanted her mother. Where was her mother Josie wondered as she fought for her life.

Just when Josie was sure she couldn't hold her breath one minute longer, just when she was sure she was going to die, the ocean threw her up on shore. Lying on the sand, gasping for air, Josie looked up. Emily was dancing in the waves, oblivious to everything but her own pleasure.

Hannah Sheraton had been like Josie. She had held her breath as she tumbled through the beautiful treacherous waters of the Rayburn house while Linda and Kip danced outside the surf and Fritz dragged her under the tide of his sickness. Linda hadn't saved her, but Josie would. She was convinced that Hannah's story was not a fantasy. The girl knew too much, gave too many names, was too specific as to Fritz Rayburn's particular habits. By the time the court reconvened Josie knew what she had to do. She had to believe in Hannah unconditionally.

Mired in her outrage, guarding against the slippery slope of skepticism, Josie stood rigidly behind the defense table, eyes forward as she controlled her breathing and planned her attack. Josie didn't realize Linda was near until she heard her voice.

''You can't keep me out of that room,'' Linda hissed. ''I'm her mother.''

Josie looked at Linda, unmoved by such outrage. It was too little too late.

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