Leading the Witness Page 15

  “I’ll take her,” Stella said.

  “Thank you, but no,” Catherine said. She pointed at Starr. “I’m going with you.” She stared at Starr until she elicited submission.

  “Fine.” Starr grabbed her keys off the counter. “Come on. I’ll drop you at your office on my way.”

  Catherine thanked Stella for her hospitality and reluctantly followed Starr out of the warm, comfortable house into the thunderstorm raging outside. She had no idea where Starr was headed, but she knew one thing for sure—she was going with her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Starr steered the car out of her mother’s long drive wishing her mother had chosen another day to misplace her keys. By the time she drove Catherine back to her office, she’d be the last one at the scene, and she hated showing up late, but she hadn’t wanted to leave Catherine alone with her oversharing mother. When she reached the highway, she contemplated the best direction to take.

  “I’m going with you,” Catherine said.

  “No, I’m taking you back to your office.”

  “You have a lead, right?” When Starr nodded, Catherine said, “Then I’m going with you. If you don’t take me, I’ll follow you in my own car.”

  Starr contemplated how much she should share. The correct answer was nothing. By virtue of her own experience, Catherine was potentially a witness in this case. Involving her in official police business could create sticky complications she’d have to deal with later if and when they brought Hannah’s abductor to trial. But Catherine’s past also gave her added insight to this case that might prove valuable. Starr weighed the pros and cons and tossed in Catherine’s fierce determination as a factor in her decision.

  “Okay,” she said. “But when we get there, you stay in the car. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll fill you in as much as I’m able, and you can help us out if you have anything to add, but if you get in the way or question anyone on the task force, I’ll have no choice but to send you packing. Understood?”

  Again, with the icy stare. “Understood. You want my help, but on your terms because you know best.”

  “Close enough.” Starr resented the implication that she was a know-it-all, but decided to go with it rather than wasting energy on a fight she wasn’t likely to win.

  “Did they find her?” Catherine asked, her voice then dropping to a whisper. “Is she alive?”

  Starr gripped the steering wheel hard. “They found what looks like a freshly dug grave. That’s all I know.” She heard Catherine suck in a breath, and she instinctively reached out a hand, surprised when Catherine gripped it for a second before letting go. When Catherine’s hands were back in her lap, Starr added, “It could be nothing.”

  “Was it Pearson who called you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s a pretty good detective.”

  “High praise from you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Catherine asked.

  “You have a reputation for thinking none of us know how to do our jobs.”

  “I come by it honestly.”

  Catherine delivered the statement and turned to look out the side window, signaling she was done talking. Starr wondered if Catherine was talking about her own case or cases she’d handled since she’d started practicing. She made a mental note to go back and reread the file, but in the meantime, she had another question. “Why did you decide to practice law?”

  “Why did you?”

  “I’m never going to get to know you better if you always answer a question with questions.” Starr smiled, hoping her words would be viewed as a friendly overture. “But I’ll play along if you will.” Catherine’s only response was to raise her eyebrows, but Starr pushed on. “When I was young, around ten, my grandmother’s property down in the valley was seized so that the government could put a barrier on the border. She hired a lawyer to fight it, and he took her money and did practically nothing other than make her empty promises. Her farm was divided, and the value of her property plunged.”

  “And that inspired you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “To become a prosecutor?” Catherine shook her head. “Seems a bit off to me. Shouldn’t you be working against the government, not for it?”

  “What better way to affect change than from within?”

  “Is that why you’re running for DA? So you can have a kumbaya moment with the public?”

  “Are you always this cynical?” Starr snapped, instantly regretting her reaction when she saw Catherine’s shocked expression. “That was out of line. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to treat me with kid gloves just because you know about my past,” Catherine said. “I’m not some kind of delicate flower. I’ve spent my entire adult life making sure I was on a level playing field. If Hannah wasn’t missing, you would have no idea what I’ve been through.”

  Starr wasn’t sure what to say in response. Catherine had kept her secret well. So well in fact that everyone, including her, had assumed she was an icy bitch rather than a woman who had legitimate reasons to mistrust the system. The facts from Jill’s, make that Catherine’s, abduction played on a reel in Starr’s head. Over a month missing while law enforcement focused all their energy on a teacher at her school. The local sheriff’s office had visited the trailer where she’d been held but had failed to notice anything awry. Catherine had managed to escape on her own, and even after she relayed all the information the authorities would need to arrest Pratt, he’d managed to elude capture for over twenty years.

  Taking into account all of this, Starr was willing to admit she’d been wrong in her initial assessment of Catherine. “You’re right. I don’t have personal knowledge of what you’ve been through, but I have worked enough cases like yours to have some idea of how it might have affected you, and I know that you’re a survivor.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “Sure you did.” Starr slowed for a red light and took the opportunity to turn in her seat to face Catherine. “You could’ve basked in your fame and assumed the role of permanent victim. Or you could have kept the anonymity you chose and picked a different career—one that didn’t put you face-to-face with law enforcement professionals who represent the same kind of people who failed you.”

  Catherine averted her eyes, but not before Starr read shocked recognition, and she knew she’d identified a sore spot. “It has to be hard for you.” A sudden realization occurred. “This is why you don’t take child abuse cases.”

  Catherine twitched and Starr knew she’d gone too far. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

  Silence hung between them for a few minutes. Starr watched the traffic crossing back and forth across the intersection, biding her time to move forward. What was Catherine thinking? Would she ever speak to her again? She should have taken Catherine back to her office instead of agreeing to take her to the scene. Her desire to know more about this enigmatic woman was causing her to be reckless.

  The light changed and she pulled forward, determined to be more guarded when it came to involving Catherine in this case.

  “I don’t trust myself to defend anyone accused of child abuse,” Catherine said, her voice quiet and wistful. “I don’t have the level of skill required to be objective in those cases. I think that in the back of my mind, I would always be wondering if they are really guilty, and if they are then they deserve whatever they have coming to them, even if their rights were violated in the process. People like Pratt shouldn’t have rights.”

  And just like that, Starr’s resolve to be more guarded fell away. “I think that’s pretty natural, don’t you?”

  Catherine sighed. “I don’t know what’s natural, or normal. I’ve lived my whole life inside and outside of the bubble of those few weeks. They were transformative, and not in a good way. Everything I think and do is either because of or in spite of what happened to me. I gave up a long time ago trying to escape my past. The best I can do is figure out how to live my way around it.”
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br />   “Well, it appears you’ve done a whole lot more than that. You’re a successful lawyer, you have your own practice.” Starr wished she could reel off other things, but she didn’t know anything else about Catherine aside from her career. She cast about for something to add. “You like puppies.”

  Catherine cracked a smile. “Who doesn’t?”

  “Truth. Lots of people like puppies. And kids, although some people think they’re a mixed bag.”

  “You must like them, or you wouldn’t have worked in child abuse for as long as you did. Or do, since I guess you’re back there.”

  “For now,” Starr said. “For this case. Murphy wanted someone experienced with the unit to handle this case for obvious reasons.”

  “Of course.” A few beats passed. “But you didn’t answer the question.”

  “About whether I like kids? Sure, but it’s hard not to have an affinity with the ones I meet. It’s hard to believe the range of violence adults inflict on the innocent, and it’s hard not to let these kids get into your heart.” She shook her head. “But when it comes to kids in general, I guess I’m like most—it depends. I’m as likely as the next person to roll my eyes at people who think their kid is the cutest, the smartest, the you name it.” She pointed up in the distance and picked up her phone. “I see a bunch of cars. I think that’s the spot.”

  She eased up close to the line of vehicles, recognizing Pearson’s vehicle, and pulled in behind it. “Wait here and I’ll be back in a few minutes to give you an update.” She bailed from the car before Catherine could answer and contemplated their conversation as she headed toward the line of cars parked ahead of her. For a few minutes, it felt like she and Catherine were actually connecting, and she’d wanted to embrace the feeling, but caution about what they were about to find warned her to hold back. If Hannah was buried in a grave here in the woods, there was no telling how Catherine would react. She shouldn’t have brought her here, and the question about why she had nipped around the edges of her mind.

  Pearson popped out from behind a tree and waved in her direction. “About time you got here.”

  “Sorry, my mother is a hard woman to get away from.”

  He pointed toward her car. “Tell me that’s not Catherine Landauer in your car.”

  “I would, but I’d be lying. There wasn’t time to drop her off.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, clearly conveying his doubt. “I’m going to trust you know what you’re doing, but no way should she be here. If you want, I can have a patrol unit take her back to her office.”

  “You’re right,” Starr said. His idea was sound, but she didn’t want to hand Catherine off to some stranger, not when she’d just started to open up. “But I don’t plan to linger. Show me what you’ve got and I’ll get her out of here. Murphy is going to want a report and he’s going to want it in person.”

  “Let’s go.” He motioned back to the tree behind him and Starr followed him, wishing she had dressed for a trek in the woods. They walked about twenty feet until they were standing in front of a cordoned off area surrounded by crime scene techs wearing yellow slickers. Starr glanced around, taking in every detail. She rarely got to visit crime scenes in person, and when she did, she liked to take full advantage of the entire sensory experience, imprinting it on her mind so she could recall every detail when it came time to make an opening statement to a jury. They were a long way off from that now, but it was never too soon to start formulating her plan of attack.

  The first thing that struck her was the mound of fresh earth, like a newly-filled grave in a cemetery, and the exact opposite of a burial site someone was trying to hide. It wasn’t covered with leaves and sticks, but fresh red soil, loamy and pungent in the rain. The mound was fairly small, about two feet by four feet. The size gave her chills. The techs were scraping soil samples and taking photos, but otherwise leaving the mound undisturbed.

  “Any evidence on the surface?” she asked.

  Pearson pointed to a tree about five feet from the mound, and Starr followed the direction of his finger up the length of the trunk until the white bow caught her attention. Her adrenaline had been pumping up until this point, but now it plummeted, filling her body with lead, and she was already starting to think of ways to tell the mayor her daughter was dead.

  “It’s him.”

  Starr turned toward the quiet, firm voice, and faced Catherine who was staring behind them, staring directly at the bow. Her face was a hardened mask of neutrality, but Starr wasn’t fooled. Catherine was scared and justifiably so, and Starr wished she’d listened to her instincts and never exposed Catherine to this scene.

  * * *

  Catherine stiffened the moment they’d pulled up to the wooded area, any comfort she’d taken in her conversation with Starr faded at the realization they were on the verge of a big break in the case. Starr said something before she left the car, but her words were white noise against the backdrop of Catherine’s memories.

  The rain had stopped, but water still fell from the trees in big, spattering drops, smacking against the saturated ground. Starr spoke briefly with Pearson before they both disappeared into the brush. Catherine stared after them, her mind consumed with possibilities, each one more horrible than the last.

  He’d rousted her in the early morning hours, a finger placed over her lips to keep her quiet, while he whispered in her ear that her mother had asked him to take her to a special place and she would meet them there. She recognized him. He’d been at their house several times, most recently the week before, helping her mother fix the stopped-up sink. Unlike most of the men her mother hung around, he’d spoken to her directly instead of acting like she wasn’t in the room. But however friendly he’d seemed in the daylight hours, his sudden appearance at her bedside was dark and strange, and she hadn’t wanted to go with him, but his urgency was contagious. If her mother hadn’t let him in, then how had he gotten into the house? “I want to talk to her.”

  She hadn’t waited for an answer, instead calling out to her mother, tentatively at first, but then louder when her calls were met with silence. “She’s not here,” he said, shaking his head.

  Looking back, she wished she’d questioned more, fought if she had to, but her mother disappearing in the night and leaving a stranger to care for her wasn’t outside the realm of her experience. Setting her instincts aside, she hoped for the best, changed her clothes, and followed him out of the house and into his pickup truck.

  It was still dark outside, and she could barely make out the vehicle, but she could tell it wasn’t a current model. It took a few turns of the key to get it started, and in that length of time she got a glimpse of what he was like when he was frustrated, his anger seeping around the edges of a smile. Don’t ask questions, don’t make him mad—the caution became an affirming chant echoed throughout the ride.

  The sun was beginning to edge its way past the horizon when he turned off the main road, the truck bucking against the uneven surface of the dirt path lined with trees. They drove for a while longer, and then he pulled into a space between two large trees. Larger than she’d ever seen. “Is Mom meeting us here?” she asked, but her question was ignored. He came around and opened her door, and led her through the woods, roughly pushing his way past low hanging branches, but holding them so they wouldn’t snap back and strike her. She appreciated the courtesy at the same time she feared his intentions, and the dichotomy of emotions only confused her more. She was a city girl, unaccustomed to tromping around in nature.

  There had been that one time last year in Girl Scouts—her mother had enrolled her so she’d have a place to go after school—when her troop had gone camping to earn as many badges as they could in a single weekend, but camping at a lodge with classes designed to teach basic survival techniques was way different from forging through the forest without a trail or any of the equipment suitable for the trek. Her worn out, off brand tennis shoes slipped on the leaves and rocks still wet from yesterday’s rain. Once, she
’d fallen hard, almost hitting her head on a large rock, but he’d caught her just in time. Later, she would wish he hadn’t.

  Catherine pushed the car door open and stumbled out of the vehicle, gasping for breath. The memories were nothing new. The nightmares had abated, but they still lurked in the background, and lately they’d found firm footing in her obsession about this girl’s disappearance. She leaned against the car and fought for breath. She had to know if Hannah was in the grave in the woods, Starr’s admonition be damned. She took a deep breath and walled off the little girl inside, assuming the armor she wore into court. No tears, no fears, only fierce strength and fortitude. After a few mental chants of this mantra, she followed the path Starr and Pearson had taken.

  She counted her steps, a habit established during the time she’d been with Pratt, a skill she hadn’t needed or used since then. Each step was a vital piece of information, filed away to calculate the exact parameters of her escape. One thousand steps on the day they went to retrieve water from the stream. Five hundred and one when they went to check the traps. Every step had a purpose, a story, a path out of the nightmare her life had become. One day she would count the steps to her freedom.

  “Catherine.”

  At the sound of her name, Catherine stopped cold, confused and trapped between then and now. She’d been counting. What for? She ran her hands down her side. She was taller, her clothes were new, not the old rags he’d made her wear. That was then and this was now. She wasn’t Jill Winfield. She was Catherine Landauer, strong and free.

  “Are you okay?”

  She looked at Starr who’d stepped in front of her. She knew this woman. Where had she been when she’d needed help? Even now the sound of her voice was muffled, like one or both of them were under water. “What is happening?”

  Starr gently steered her a few feet away. “I asked you to wait in the car.”

  Her voice was gentle, but concern edged through, and Catherine’s memory of the past receded into her recollection of the present. “I need to know what’s going on.”