“You underlined her,” T.J. says, sitting down again. He taps the end of the pen on the list. The click, click reminds me of Jeremy, the way he can drive me crazy with constant clicking whenever he has a pen in his hand.
Chase turns to me. “Did you underline her name because you really think she murdered her husband?”
“Lots of wives do, you know.”
“That’s true,” T.J. says. “Spouses are the number one suspect in any murder. One-third of female homicide victims were killed by their husbands or boyfriends. Some say fifty-three percent of murders were done by spouses, but most of them got off.”
I don’t know where he comes up with this stuff, but I’ll take it. Over half of victims are killed by their spouses? I wonder if Raymond knows this.
“Okay,” Chase says. “But could Mrs. Johnson even get to the barn? Or swing a bat?”
“Why not? Maybe she’s faking it. You don’t know. Has anybody even looked into her?” I know I sound defensive. But I want them to believe somebody else did it. I want Chase to believe it.
T.J. keeps clicking his pen and staring at the notebook. The click, click, click is the only sound in the room.
Then Chase sits up and leans in so he can see my suspect list. “You know… and this is pretty random… I’ve always thought there was something wrong about that woman.”
“You did?” I can’t believe it. “You do? Tell me. Us.”
“I don’t know exactly. I’ve only seen her a few times when Coach had us over to his house.”
“He had you over to his house?” T.J. interrupts.
“Just a couple of times. Me and Austin and Greg and some others.”
“Figures,” T.J. mutters.
“Go on,” I urge, wishing T.J. would quit interrupting.
“I can’t explain it,” Chase continues. “She was friendly enough and said the right things. But there was just something about her I didn’t like.”
“Jeremy too!” I slap my knee, then tug my skirt down. I’m not used to wearing skirts, and I sure haven’t been thinking about this one. “Jer’s a great judge of character. He’s always stayed away from Coach’s wife, and he wouldn’t tell me why.”
“That fits,” Chase says.
“What? What fits?” I ask.
He tilts his head at me. “That’s right… You weren’t in the courtroom for her testimony, were you?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t think she testified. I thought they said she couldn’t make it to court.”
“That’s what I thought too,” T.J. agrees.
“She didn’t. Not in person,” Chase explains. “But Keller was allowed to read her testimony into the record.”
“Is that fair?” I ask. “Keller gets to read whatever Caroline wants to say, and Raymond doesn’t even get a chance to make her take it back?”
“Jeremy’s lawyer asked her questions too,” Chase says. “Only not very many.”
“Wouldn’t he have the right to subpoena her to appear in court?” T.J. asks. “I’ll bet Raymond could make her testify.”
“Well, he might not want to put her on the stand,” Chase says.
“Why?” I demand. “What did she say?” This is the first I’ve heard about any of this.
“Mostly, it was how great her husband was. She gave an account of the day of the murder, how Coach left the house early, and how my dad’s deputy went to the house to give her the news.”
I can tell he’s leaving out things. “What did she say about Jeremy?”
Chase bites his bottom lip, then comes out with it. “It was pretty bad, Hope.”
“Tell me.”
“She said she was afraid of him. I guess Jeremy went to the house a couple of times with Coach. I don’t know what happened, but she told Coach not to let him in the house again. She made your brother sound dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Jeremy?” I can’t stay sitting down, so I pace Jeremy’s floor. “Jeremy’s right about her. I don’t trust that woman.” I keep thinking about what I saw that day in the ballpark when she went off on Coach.
I start to tell them more about that argument, but the phone rings. I quit pacing and stare out to the living room, where the phone is ringing and ringing.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” T.J. asks.
Ring! Ring! Ring! It sounds angry.
“Want me to get it?” T.J. makes a move toward the phone.
“Wait!” I cry over the scream of the phone. “It could be Rita.” The last thing I need is Rita making a scene because I have two guys over when she’s not here.
I walk to the phone, but I can’t pick it up. I’m too afraid.
Footsteps come behind me. I think it’s T.J. until I see Chase reach down and pick up the receiver. The silence is like a slap, scarier somehow than the ringing. Chase holds the receiver to my ear and leans in. When I don’t say anything, he does: “This is the Long residence.”
I recognize the quiet that floats on the other end of the line. I know the breathing.
“Is anybody there?” Chase shouts into the phone.
There’s no answer. Of course.
“Listen to me, whoever this is. Stop calling here! I’m telling the sheriff, and we’ll be listening and tracing your number. Do you understand me?” His voice is getting louder and louder. “You better! This ends right now. Do you hear me? Answer me!” When nobody does, Chase lets loose a string of cusswords that would make even Rita blush. Then he slams down the phone and stares at it, like it could jump back up and knock us both down.
“Way to go, Chase!” T.J. shouts, clapping. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Chase looks at me as if he forgot T.J. and I were here. “Hope, I’m sorry. I guess I lost it.”
“Kind of,” I agree.
“It’s just… I hate cowards,” Chase explains, staring at the phone again. “But I should have let you handle it.”
“I wasn’t exactly handling it,” I admit.
“If you’re okay, I should go,” he says. I nod. He pats his pocket, probably making sure he doesn’t leave his wallet again.
“I can stay if you want,” T.J. says.
“I’ll be okay.” I wouldn’t mind having T.J. stick around. But I don’t want him to have to walk home. “Besides, who would call back after a phone… uh, conversation… like that one, right?”
“Yeah. Okay.” T.J. squeezes my arm. “I’ll take off, then. Dad’s got to be home by now, wondering where I am.” He glances at Chase. “He’s probably called your dad to get the posse out looking for me.” He laughs at his own joke.
“That’s all we both need,” Chase says, moving toward the door.
I follow them outside. Chase stops on the step. T.J.’s already halfway to the car. “Thanks, T.J.!” I call after him. Softer, I say, “You too, Chase.” I feel like I need to say more. He’s gotten dragged into my mess all day long. But I stare up into those green eyes, and I can’t say anything.
“Jeremy’s lucky to have a sister like you,” he says.
As he walks off, I think that out of all the things he could have said, this is the best. It’s the only thing I’ve ever cared about-being a good sister to Jer.
I watch them drive away under a sliver of moon. They’re still in sight when my cell phone rings. Only a handful of people have my cell number, so I answer it.
“It’s me.” The voice belongs to T.J., but the number doesn’t. “I’m on Chase’s cell. Mine’s dead. I just wanted to make sure we’re on for driving lessons after church tomorrow.” T.J. is determined to help me get my driver’s license. He’s been giving me lessons Sunday afternoons for about a month. I’ve been doing it because it helps keep my mind off Jeremy, even if it only lasts an hour.
“I don’t know, T.J. Driving doesn’t seem that important anymore.”
“But I want to run some ideas by you. Like surveillance on Mrs. Johnson. A couple of other things too. We can talk about the case.”
I can’t say no. I’m too grateful that he’s taking Jeremy’s case seriously. It makes me feel like it’s not all up to me. “Okay. I’m not going to church, though. Can you come by for me?”
“I’ll be around about noon, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks again, T.J. See you tomorrow.” Chase’s car is still in view when I sign off. What did people do before cells?
I turn to go back inside. And that’s when I see it. An old white pickup truck, headlights off, creeps from the shadows and inches up the street. I step back as it passes my house and keeps going. At the corner, it turns right, just like Chase did. Then it speeds off, disappearing into the darkness… just like Chase.