Hostile Witness Read Online Free PDF Page A

Palisades the night of the fire. ”
    Linda’s fingers trailed over the deep cut of her blouse and found their way to the side of her jaw. She leaned into the touch nonchalantly, her posture a strange contrast to the twitching of her eye, the taut cording of her neck muscles.
    “Hannah – my daughter – she didn’t like it in the Palisades. She’s city all the way. Independent.  She didn’t particularly like Fritz, but to say she killed him is just plain ridiculous.”
    “When was she arrested?” Josie took a long drink but the beer tasted wrong.
    “Just now. Tonight.  We got home from the funeral. I changed. My husband and I were going out to dinner to . . .to talk about something. . . .impor. . .”
    Linda ran the back of her hand under her nose. She shook out her hair. This was the way she used to act when she had to pull herself together for competition.  Linda was at her best under pressure.  The near-tears were gone; the face she turned toward Josie had fixed to a look of brutal resolve.
    “You’ve got to get her out of this mess, Josie. Hannah is sixteen, she’s scared and she’s innocent. I want you to get her out of that God damn jail tonight.”
    Josie rested her arms on her knees, the beer dangling between her legs. She remembered what she hadn’t liked about Linda Sheraton-Rayburn. She demanded. She expected. She wanted. Under any other circumstances Josie would have shown her the door.  But whether or not her daughter was guilty, Linda was in for a lot of pain. For that Josie was truly sorry and she was sorry she couldn’t help.
    “There’s nothing I can do, Linda. Your daughter’s been processed. She is in for the night.”
    “Don’t give me that.  I busted my butt tracking you down tonight because I knew if anyone could help, you could.”
    “This isn’t college, Linda. I can’t just fast-talk a problem away.” Josie put her beer on the side table.  “Besides, I don’t work with juveniles. You need some who . . .”
    “Don’t tell me what I need.” Linda whacked the coffee table with both hands. The sound cracked through the house. Max’s head came up. Linda’s face was white with rage.
    “Hey,” Josie warned, “Take it down some, or take it somewhere else.”
    Linda may be in trouble, but this was Josie’s turf. Maybe not the kind she used to claim, but nobody told her what to do here.  Linda, though, didn’t give up so easily. She shoved aside the glass, the bottle, and the makeshift ashtray, as if she was clearing the field for battle.
    “Okay. Okay. Last I heard you were hot stuff. I mean you got that woman off a couple of years ago and she was guilty as sin. My kid is innocent and I need someone I can trust, damn it. You’re not too big to help an old friend who really needs it, are you, Josie?”
    “I’m not too big for anything, Linda.  I just don’t handle the kind of case you’re talking about.”
    Josie looked away. Linda moved her head trying to retain eye contact, doing her best to cajole.
    “But you could, couldn’t you? I mean, there aren’t any rules about that sort of thing, right?”
    “No. Nothing like that.”
    “Then name your price, Josie. Money isn’t a problem.  I’ve got enough to buy and sell you.   I’ve got. . . .I’ve got. . .”
    That was as far as she went.  Whatever truth or pity she saw in Josie’s eyes it was enough to make Linda stop. Her voice caught. When she spoke again she was begging.
    “Please. I’ve got no one else. My baby didn’t do it. I swear. She didn’t do it.”

3
     
    Josie’s memories spiraled in snippets and snatches.
    Big case. Terrified defendant. Protestations of innocence.  Josie as champion. Television cameras. Crime scene photos. Interviews. Points of law. Fearful testimony. Children waiting for their mother and the world waiting for the jury.
    Worst of all – victory.
    Back then Josie believed everyone deserved a defense. Then she met the one woman who didn’t. Kristin Davis played