TRIAL, DAY 6
Noah watched as Linda hustled to the jury box, all five-feet-three inches of her, short but nonetheless powerful. Her navy-blue suit was tailored closely around her superfit frame, and she must have been a runner because she had fast-twitch muscles in her calves, which Noah identified from his days running cross-country.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Linda Swain-Pettit and I represent the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. In other words, I represent the citizens of this great state, or you. The purpose of a closing argument is to review the important testimony you have heard in this courtroom. The judge will tell you when he charges you on the law that the Commonwealth retains the burden to prove the defendant’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. I believe we have more than met that burden and I will set forth the testimony and evidence that supports my statement. Excuse me a moment.’
Linda strode to the trial exhibits, slid one out, and placed it on an easel. It was a whimsical selfie of Anna, grinning down against a clear blue sky, enlarged to poster-size. She had been such a pretty girl, with large blue eyes, prominent eyebrows, a longish nose, but a small mouth with full lips. Her light brown hair tumbled to her shoulders, revealing a fresh young face that was shaped like a Valentine’s Day heart. She smiled in a sweet way that showed her dimples, which normally reminded him of Maggie. Today Noah felt unsettled by the photo. It was directly in his line of sight, as if it were watching him.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, this beautiful young woman was Anna Desroches and she was only seventeen years old. She attended Lower Merion High School, where she was a junior. Anna is the reason we’re all here today, and I want to remind you that she could’ve been any of our daughters, sisters, friends, or neighbors. She was a typical teenager in every way.’
Noah kept his face a mask. Anna wasn’t a typical teenager in any way. He could never explain that to Maggie, but it was true. And only he knew how true.
‘And her young life was cut cruelly short, in the most heinous way you can imagine. She was murdered . . .’
Noah felt himself slipping away, unraveling time backwards, wondering how he could’ve missed so many cues, denied what was before his very eyes. He recalled the first time he’d thought to himself about Anna, that’s weird. He and Maggie had been in the kitchen after dinner. He was taking off his tie, and Maggie was loading the dishwasher.
Noah, I have news. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Caleb. Maggie had been rinsing a plate. They’d had spaghetti for dinner, and tomato sauce ran red in the sink.
Bad or good?
Florian is dead. Maggie had put the dish in the dishwasher with the others. He died in a plane crash, of his own plane. Somewhere outside Lyon.
Are you serious? Noah had set down his beer bottle. He’d never wish death on anybody, even though he’d felt angry at Florian for what he had done to Maggie.
Yes, he remarried, and his wife’s name was Nathalie. He had two kids, boys, Michel and Paul. Five and three years old.
And the whole family died in the crash? That’s horrible. When did this happen?
March 8. Maggie had rinsed off another dish.
How’d you find out?
Online. I was walking with Kathy, and we looked him up.
What was the reason for the crash?
They think pilot error. Maggie had put the last dish in the dishwasher. The bottom of the sink had reddish globs of tomato, like human tissue.
Did he fly when you were married?
He was taking lessons. Maggie had hosed down the sink with the sprayer.
How long had he been flying for?
What difference does it make? Maggie had frowned, closing the dishwasher door. How would I know? What’s with the questions?
Right. Noah had caught himself gathering the facts, as if he were interviewing a new patient before he began skin, blood, or patch tests. It was an occupational hazard. My God, that’s terrible. You’d think we would hear about that.
How would we? Maggie had met his eye directly, and Noah had felt oddly challenged.
I don’t know. Forget it.
Maggie had softened, leaning on the counter. I mean, I thought the same thing, but how would we? I have no contact with him, and it’s not like it made the news over here. He’s just one of those rich guys who died in a private plane. Maybe the tech journals reported it, but I don’t read them anymore.
Noah had sipped his beer, eyeing her. How do you feel? You upset?
It’s an awful thing. Maggie had shaken her head. Nobody deserves to die, especially that way. And it must be so hard for Anna.
Right. Noah had put it together already. Do you think that’s why she called you?
Yes, and I understand that. I mean, it makes absolute sense that she would reach out to me after her father died.
But she didn’t say anything about his death to you?
No.
That’s weird.
Maggie had frowned. I don’t think so. I think it makes perfect sense, and so does Kathy. Anna doesn’t know if I knew or not and she probably didn’t want to tell me over the phone. You’re being critical, aren’t you?
Noah had let it go, but that was the first time he thought Anna had done something weird. Not wrong, not terrible, just weird. Since then, there had been times after that, each one slightly worse, and looking back now, he realized that those early incidents were like a case history of a patient. The first exposure to an allergen could result in a faint rash, a single raised bump, a brief shortness of breath. But then would come a second exposure with another symptom, more noticeable but dismissible by someone who didn’t understand its significance. Ultimately there would be a third or fourth exposure, with a symptom each time, incrementally worse, but the human body wouldn’t realize it was under lethal attack until it was too late.
Noah felt his gut twist. He had missed the diagnosis, and before he realized what was happening, Anna had destroyed him and his family. Yet he was on trial for her murder.
He should’ve claimed self-defense.
Chapter Eight
Maggie, Before
Maggie looked at her reflection in the hotel mirror. She was about to see Anna, all grown up. Maggie had on an outfit she had bought for the occasion, a white blouse under a navy V-neck with gray-wool pants, looking every inch the suburban mom. Her dark curls were reasonably well-behaved, falling wavy to her shoulders. Her eyes were an earthy brown and wide-set, emphasized by the good eyeliner, not the CVS brand, for tonight. She had a short, wide nose and dimples that punctuated chubby cheeks, since she was ten pounds over goal weight, which was no longer her goal. She felt nervous and excited, both at once.
Maggie grabbed her down coat, left the inn, and hurried down Main Street, adjusting to the cold. She passed the Maine Savings Bank, and its digital sign read 6:15 P.M. and 39°. The waning sun cut through the crisp air, and traffic moved at a civilized pace through the charming town of Congreve. The sidewalk bustled with young people and families going to upscale boutiques, funky restaurants and coffee shops, and an independent bookstore.
Maggie’s step quickened. She craned her neck to see if Anna was coming the other way. She wondered if she would recognize her, but she knew she would. She felt her heart hammering, and her mouth went dry. Suddenly she spotted a young girl hurrying down the street toward her, and her heart knew her on sight.
‘Anna!’ Maggie found herself running to her daughter, arms outstretched.
‘Mom!’ Anna’s eyes lit up, and she smiled, causing both dimples to pop, which melted Maggie’s heart.
‘Honey!’ Maggie reached Anna, scooped her up, and held her close, squeezing her like she’d never let her go. ‘It’s so good to see you!’
‘You, too, hi.’ Anna chuckled, uncomfortably, and Maggie held her away to look at her, trying not to cry or snot up.
‘Look at you! You’re so pretty, you’re gorgeous!’