After Sundown (35 page)

All their testimony might not be enough
. Enough to erase the vivid picture Drayton was painting in the jurors’ minds, the picture everyone in St. Charles was so eager to accept.

“Mr. Drayton,” the judge was saying, “I must remind you to restrict your editorial commentary to the pages of the newspapers. The jurors are instructed to disregard the prosecutor’s last remark.”

“I withdraw the comment, Your Honor.” Drayton walked slowly back toward Annie again. “Miss Sutton, after you took the fifteen thousand dollars from Mr. McKenna’s safe, and after you disposed of your bloodstained clothing, and after you left town, you went West, is that true?”

Annie looked like she couldn’t endure much more. “Yes.”

“You fled to Colorado. You were hiding from the law, living under an assumed name. And you only returned here to stand trial after you were forced to do so. Isn’t that the truth?”

“I... that wasn’t what... I didn’t mean to...”

“The truth is you fled because you knew that you had killed James McKenna. A respected member of this community. A business owner. A beloved husband. A father of two children. Isn’t that the truth?”

“I—”

“
Yes
or
no
, Miss Sutton—
you
ended his life.
You
were responsible.
You and no one else
. Isn’t that the truth?”

Lucas felt his gut clench, could see her eyes shimmering with tears, knew what she was going to say.

“
Isn’t it?
” Drayton demanded.

“
Yes
.” Annie lowered her head, one droplet sliding down her cheek. “Yes.”

A hush fell over the courtroom.

Drayton turned to the jury, looked at the twelve men for a silent moment, then walked back to his seat. “I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honor. The prosecution rests.”

~ ~ ~

“Weatherby, I’ve got no right to ask you to do this,” Lucas said in a low voice, as he and his deputy stood on the sidewalk at the bottom of the hill, looking up at the mansion, its windows gleaming in the late afternoon light. “If you want to walk away right now—”

“Sir, I know how highly you thought of your brother.” Weatherby kept his voice quiet. “And I damn sure know you wouldn’t be doing this for any outlaw. If you say Miss Sutton isn’t a murderer and a thief, then she isn’t.” He regarded Lucas with a slow smile. “I’ve known you for four years, sir, and never once seen you knotted up like this over a woman. She must be something special.”

“She is,” Lucas said gruffly. “You go on around the front and create a diversion.”

“Any particular requests?”

“Make it noisy, and make sure you keep the servants busy. Try to give me at least fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“Consider it done, sir.” Weatherby set off down the sidewalk, heading for the front gate.

Lucas circled around the back. Fifteen or twenty minutes should give him just enough time to do some investigating of his own. He moved through the hedges and into the gardens—retracing the steps Annie would have taken that day.

That fateful, tragic day that had changed so many lives forever.

Heavy clouds overhead made the afternoon unseasonably cool, damp with the promise of rain. He moved quietly through the gardens, glancing around, careful to avoid the gray-haired gardener who was tending mounds of daffodils and crocuses.

What he hoped—prayed—he would find was evidence. Not the kind of evidence he had once sought, to prove Annie’s guilt, but evidence that would set her free.

There had to be
something
. Some detail that the constables had missed. That
he
had missed. Some clue that would help him prove that Drayton’s portrait of a woman scorned bent on vengeance was all wrong.

When he reached the patio outside James’s office, Lucas glanced in through the French doors, tried the handles, and found them locked, as he had expected.

He slipped a small, steel tool from his coat pocket, and a moment later, he was inside, stepping into the room where it had all played out.

He felt his throat close up, his eyes burn as he glanced around the spacious study with its gleaming teakwood paneling, expensive furnishings, framed works of art. There were no marks anywhere, not so much as one spot of crimson to mar the carpets. It looked like Olivia had had the place perfectly cleaned, tidied, restored to order.

Lucas choked back the emotions battling inside him and forced himself to focus, tried to picture the events of that day in his mind: Annie tearfully telling James about her pregnancy, James tossing his pocket change on the desk and ordering her to get out, Annie reaching for the money... and instead picking up the gun.

And James grabbing for the weapon.

Lucas clenched his jaw as he stared at the desk, hoping that James had been trying to protect her in that moment. That he had realized that the vulnerable young woman who was standing there, carrying his child, meant to shoot herself.

That he had died while trying to do the right thing.

Lucas moved behind the desk and bent down to start examining the wall, the floor. The office door on the other side of the room opened. Startled, he stood up.

“Uncle Lucas?”

It was his thirteen-year-old nephew, peering in, the door open only a crack.

“Peter?” Lucas whispered, walking toward him quickly, afraid the boy would attract the attention of some servant or tutor. “You shouldn’t be here—”

Before he could finish, the boy stepped inside and immediately shut the door, leaning back against it, wide-eyed and pale.

Lucas halted, that look hitting him like another blow to the gut. He wondered exactly what Olivia had told her children to explain why they were no longer allowed to see their uncle Lucas.

“Peter,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” Peter whispered, shaking his head emphatically. “I looked out my window and I thought I saw you in the garden and... Uncle Lucas, I want to... I have to—”

“Peter, you really shouldn’t be here right now. And your mother doesn’t want me to see you—”

“I know.” The boy stepped away from the door, taking a deep breath. “Uncle Lucas, I’ll be fourteen soon. Mother keeps telling me that I’m the man of the house now...” He squared his shoulders, clenched his fists. “I
have
to talk to you.”

“All right.” Lucas noticed a grit and maturity in the boy he had never seen before. “What is it you want to say?”

“I-I tried to talk to you before,” Peter began haltingly. “That night when you left to go out west—but Mother stopped me. I came downstairs, remember, and started to tell you, but then Mother came over and she... she told me I shouldn’t.”

“Your mother told you
before
I left St. Charles that you shouldn’t talk to me?” Lucas narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to tell you about Father,” Peter blurted.

Lucas’s heart started hammering. “Tell me what?” He placed his hands on his nephew’s shoulders. “Peter, what was it your mother didn’t want you to say?”

~ ~ ~

It was an hour later before they returned to the courtroom. Mr. Tanner was already questioning his first witness—Rebecca—as Lucas pushed open the doors, flanked by the two constables he had sent Weatherby to summon. His nephew was close by his side.

A hum of whispers and curious questions came from the crowd as Lucas strode down the center aisle with Peter, gesturing for the two constables to wait a moment. “Your Honor, I apologize for the interruption.” He kept one reassuring hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “But evidence has come to my attention that I think the court should hear. Mr. Tanner, I believe
this
should be your first witness.”

Lucas slanted Olivia a hard stare, and saw that she was looking pale and panic-stricken all of a sudden.

Damn her, she
did
know
. Olivia had known the truth all along. Had known before he left St. Charles.

Had been counting on his fearsome reputation to give her what she wanted: Annie, dead. He remembered how she had encouraged him to shoot without hesitation.

The West is an uncivilized place. No questions would be asked.

And he had almost done it.

“Who is this boy?” the judge demanded. “Marshal McKenna, this proceeding is no place for a child—”

“My name is Peter McKenna.” Though clearly nervous, the boy spoke up for himself in a firm voice. “I’m James McKenna’s son.”

Another round of gasps and conversation rippled through the courtroom.

Mother and son exchanged a look across the crowded court, and Lucas saw a flash of betrayal in Olivia’s eyes, felt Peter tense beneath his hand.

But even as he watched, all emotion in Olivia’s expression was replaced by an icy dignity that descended over her like a protective cloak.

“Your Honor, I object!” Drayton called out amid the disruption. “This is entirely out of order.”

“Your Honor.” Lucas glanced over his shoulder and signaled the two constables, who came forward with a dirt-encrusted cigar box and placed it on the judge’s bench. “I believe you’ll also want to enter this into evidence.”

“What the devil?” The judge opened the lid and his eyes widened, his brows arching. “Mr. Drayton, perhaps you will wish to submit this new evidence to your experts for review...” He tilted the box up so everyone could see. “But I believe this may be the .38-caliber revolver you’ve been searching for.”

Shouts and cries of disbelief filled the room. People were jumping to their feet for a better view.

“Young man,” the judge said sternly, turning to Peter again, “have you had this gun in your possession all this time?”

Peter nodded. “Yes, sir,” he admitted. “I have.”

“Very well, then.” The judge motioned him forward. “Let us hear what you have to say. Mrs. Greer, you are excused for the present, but you may be recalled at a later time.”

As Peter walked toward the witness box, Rebecca vacated it and joined Lucas to reclaim their seats behind the defense table. Lucas met Annie’s confused, questioning gaze with one full of warmth and reassurance.

After Peter was sworn in, the judge questioned him directly. “What is it you would like to tell us, young Mr. McKenna?”

“I-I saw how it happened. I was there—”

There was such an uproar among the crowd, the judge had to pound his gavel almost a full minute before everyone quieted down enough for the proceedings to continue.

“What, specifically, did you see?” the judge asked.

“I was waiting in Father’s study that night,” Peter said, speaking quickly, as if he were eager to get it all out before he lost his nerve. “He was always busy all the time, always working, and I hardly got to see him much anymore. So I... I was on the couch in front of the fireplace, waiting for him to get home from his office, and I lay down and I must’ve fallen asleep. Because all of a sudden, I heard people arguing—Father and a lady. It woke me up, but I didn’t know what to do. I thought Father might be mad if I let on I was there, so I just stayed quiet and stayed where I was. Then... then...”

For a moment, he couldn’t continue. “Everything got quiet for a moment, and I thought it might be over, so I looked over the top of the couch.” His voice wavered. “And that was when I saw it. I saw everything.”

“What did you see?”

“She wasn’t aiming the gun at my father, she was pointing it toward
herself
. I saw Father try to grab it from her and I heard him say, ‘Annie, no, don’t,’ and that was when it went off. It just went off as he was trying to grab it from her. He was trying to stop her from shooting
herself
. It was an accident. It wasn’t like everyone said later.” Peter shook his head adamantly. “It was an
accident
.”

A wave of noisy exclamations went through the courtroom.

Lucas glanced from Annie, who regarded him in shock, toward Olivia—who still sat in cool, tight-lipped silence, her spine rigid.

“Your Honor!” Mr. Drayton called out. “The testimony of a thirteen-year-old boy, who may have been coached by his uncle—”

“Let him finish, Mr. Drayton,” the judge interrupted. “How did you come to be in possession of the gun, young man?”

“When Father fell, I... I couldn’t even make a sound. I sunk down on the couch, and then the servants and Mother started pounding on the door, and when I looked again, the lady was gone. I ran over to Father, but he was... he was dead.” Peter’s voice broke. “The gun was on the floor and I-I picked it up and that was when Mother came running in from the garden. She thought
I
did something wrong. I tried to explain, but she made me run out and hide in the garden before she let everyone in.”

He took a deep breath and continued. “That night, after I told her what I saw, she made me swear not to tell anyone. She said it had to be our secret—”

“And you agreed?” the judge asked.

Peter glanced toward Olivia, his voice becoming quiet. “She’s my mother.”

Lucas swallowed hard, picturing his nephew torn between loyalty to his family and his sense of honor, wrestling with questions of right and wrong all these months.

Olivia still didn’t say a word, kept herself utterly composed in front of her friends and neighbors.

“She said I was the man of the house now, and I had to put the
family
first,” Peter continued. “She said the woman deserved to be punished, and I shouldn’t say anything to the constables... or to Uncle Lucas. Then she asked what happened to the gun, and I told her I already threw it away. But I... I still had it,” he admitted. “I buried it in the backyard, in that cigar box.”

“Why, young man?” the judge asked gently. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I knew it was important, and I know it’s wrong to lie.” He shook his head, his voice becoming hoarse as he looked at Olivia. “I’m sorry, Mother. But Father always taught me that a man has to do what’s
right
.”

The judge turned to Olivia, an ominous expression on his face. “Is your son telling the truth, madam?”

“Your Honor,” Drayton said, quickly coming to her defense, “Mrs. McKenna has not been sworn in as a witness.”

Olivia remained coolly silent.