M RS. J.: From my husband. John bought it for the boy. And it wasn’t cheap. All the other boys wanted aluminum bats. But John said Jeremy wanted a real bat, a wooden one. I never liked seeing Jeremy with that bat of his. I knew it was trouble from the minute I-
R AYMOND: Objection!
J UDGE: Sustained. Just answer the questions, Mrs. Johnson. Proceed.
K ELLER: Did you ever see the defendant with his bat?
M RS. J.: All the time! He carried that bat with him everywhere. He scared a couple of our broodmares with it. John wheeled me to the barn from time to time so I could be around the horses. That was before this last bout with the cancer.
K ELLER: And you saw Jeremy in the barn? With a bat?
M RS. J.: Yes. I’m the one who insisted he leave the bat at the entrance the minute he stepped inside the barn.
She breaks up, and Keller hands her one of her tissues. I think her crocodile tears are a crock. I stare at the jury and hope they got the part about her knowing exactly where the bat was kept.
K ELLER: After you stopped going to the barn, did you see the defendant again?
M RS. J.: John brought him by the house, but…
K ELLER: Please go on, Mrs. Johnson.
M RS. J.: But that boy always made me nervous. Anxious.
K ELLER: Anxious? How so?
M RS. J.: He brought that bat into our house, for one thing.
K ELLER: Tell the court about the last time you allowed the defendant into your home.
M RS. J.: Jeremy had supposedly gotten a splinter in his finger from one of the spades or pitchforks in the barn. John brought him to the house so he could get a pair of tweezers. He needed more light to see the splinter, so they used the bathroom. On the way out, they stopped by the bedroom so John could check on me and explain. I tried to put the boy at ease and asked him questions about the horses, yes-or-no questions. But he got more and more agitated. He started swinging that bat. He swung it around and around, harder and faster, until I was frightened. He ended up breaking my bureau mirror, my grandmother’s mirror. John said it was an accident, but I don’t know.
K ELLER: What do you mean?
M RS. J.: I thought then-in fact, I was sure-that Jeremy had swung his bat into my mirror on purpose. He knew what he was doing, all right.
After Keller sits down, Raymond stands up and tries to get in some last words about how much Jeremy and Coach liked each other. But it doesn’t help. He can’t erase Caroline Johnson’s words. They’re stuck in our heads, and nothing is going to drive them out: He knew what he was doing, all right.
I’m so angry when court adjourns that my stomach aches and my whole head feels like it’s on fire. “That woman is evil!” I tell Chase as we watch his dad and a deputy wheel her out of the courtroom. “She made my brother sound like a bat-waving, mirror-breaking, weapon-swinging maniac.”
“I know.”
“And I guarantee she knew about those checks to Rita and maybe what Coach was paying Rita for.”
“You don’t know what those checks were for, Hope.”
“ She knew. I know she did. Give me ten minutes alone in that house, and I’ll bet I could find more canceled checks and who knows what all.” We’re at Chase’s car in the parking lot, and I wait for him to unlock the doors. Across the street, in front of the courthouse, an ambulance drives up. Sheriff Wells pushes Mrs. Johnson’s wheelchair into the back of the ambulance. “Chase, what’s that about?”
“Didn’t you hear them when they were wheeling her out? Dad and Keller are taking her to the doctor to have her checked out after the ‘ordeal.’ It’s all for show, if you ask me.”
“Wait a minute.” I hadn’t heard one word of that conversation. I’d been too wound up to hear anything. “Are you telling me she’s going to the doctor, and your dad and the prosecutor are taking her?”
“That’s what they said.” He climbs behind the wheel and unlocks my door. “Why?”
I slide into the seat next to him. “Don’t you see what that means? Chase, not only will she be out of the house now, but your dad will be out of the way too!”
Chase rests his forehead on the steering wheel. “Hope, no.
Please?”
I buckle up. “We have to do it, Chase. It’s our last chance to prove that Caroline Johnson is a dirty rotten liar.”
30
Twenty minutes later Chase pulls up at Caroline Johnson’s house. We don’t have time to park far away like T.J. and I did when we searched the barn and Coach’s office, so Chase cruises behind the house and parks around back.
As we make our way to the front porch, I’m still fuming. “Jeremy never liked that woman. And he’s an excellent judge of character.”
“So you’ve said. On numerous occasions.” Chase tries the front doorknob. “Locked. I think we should leave, Hope.”
“So you’ve said on numerous occasions.”
He doesn’t smile.
“Please, Chase? Maybe there’s a key hidden around here.” I check under a pot sitting on the front porch, under the planters along the sidewalks, and all around the porch swing. Chase doesn’t help. He’s definitely getting restless. I don’t know how much longer I can keep him here.
“Let’s try the other door,” I suggest. I jog to the back of the house. The screen door is locked too. Chase comes up behind me. I rattle the screen. “Can’t we yank it open? Or cut the screen?”
“Not unless you want to end up in jail.” He steps in front of me and takes his car keys out of his pocket. “Here. It’s just a fall latch.”
I watch while he jimmies the latch and pulls open the door in one smooth move. “Where did you learn to do that?”
His mouth twists like somebody snapped a rubber band over his lips. Then he says, “I told you I ran with the wrong crowd in Boston. Enough said?” He says this like he’s mad at me.
“Enough said.” I shove in front of him and try the doorknob. It turns. I push the door until I can squeeze through. A strong odor hangs in the air-a mix of bacon grease, burned cookies, and sickness. Or maybe death. I don’t move from the doorway.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Chase asks, making it clear he doesn’t.
I turn and face him. It’s dark inside the house. Outside, the sun has stopped shining for the day. “I have to, for Jeremy. But you don’t. You could wait in the car.”
He sighs. “Do you even know what you’re looking for?”
“One of those checks to Rita maybe? A divorce paper? Or a journal, where Coach’s wife tells how she did it? Or a copy of a contract she gave to a contract killer?” I smile up at him, willing him to smile back.
He doesn’t. But with one finger, he pushes back a strand of my hair that’s sprung loose. “Well, we better hurry. They could bring her home any minute.”
I squeeze his arm and hope that he can read how grateful I am that he’s staying with me.
I’m afraid to turn on lights. Chase opens the back door wider so the remaining light of dusk sneaks in with us. I’ve never been inside this house before. The floor creaks with every step. The air is too moist, like in our house.
After a second, my eyes adjust to the shades of gray, and details sharpen, coming into focus as if I’m turning the lens of an expensive camera. I try to take it in: white lace on end tables that flank a light green sofa, doilies under lamps and vases, lacy curtains. The whole house is frilly. You’d think two old women lived here. On the walls and on the hall table are pictures of Caroline with her horses. Over the couch hangs a giant painting of a little girl holding the reins of a pony in one hand and a blue ribbon in the other. The kid has to be Caroline.
I bump into a table and hear something wobble. There are breakables all over this place. No wonder they never had kids. Children wouldn’t last two minutes in this house. “Chase?” I whisper. My heart thumps because I can’t see him.
“In the kitchen,” he calls out in a normal voice. Why not? If anybody’s here, they’ve already heard us.