Shadows In High Place

Chapter 19:

The knock comes again. Harder.

"Kael. It's Ellis."

Kael's already up. He crosses the bar in four strides and opens the door and the sheriff comes in with rain on his hat and a piece of paper in his hand and he doesn't look happy.

"Hearing's been moved," he says. "This afternoon. One o'clock."

Miss Okonkwo takes the paper before Kael can. Reads it fast, her mouth getting thinner with every line.

"They're calling it an emergency hearing. The Sterling lawyer filed a motion for immediate protective custody. Says the wife is in danger and the delay is harmful." She looks up. "This is a judge I don't know. Judge Harmon. From the county seat."

"Who's he?" Kael says.

"He's new. Appointed eight months ago." Miss Okonkwo folds the paper. "He's got no history with the Sterlings. That's good. It's also bad. No history means no favors, but no fear either. He might be honest. He might not know what he's walking into."

"Or he might be bought," Kael says.

"Or he might be bought." She looks at me. "Mrs. Sterling. We've got five hours. I need that affidavit."

"Give me the pen."

She gives me the pen.

I sit down at the table and she puts the pages in front of me and I read them. Every word. It takes twenty minutes. My hands are shaking the whole time. But I read them.

And then I sign my name at the bottom.

Elara Sterling.

The first time I've written it since the wedding.

"Now," Miss Okonkwo says, "I need to ask you some things. On the record. It'll be transcribed. It's not pleasant."

"Okay."

"When did the abuse start?"

I close my eyes.

"The wedding night," I say. "He didn't hit me. Not that night. But he — he told me what he expected. What I was allowed to do and not do. Who I was allowed to see. He said it very calmly. Like a list." I open my eyes. "The first time he hit me was a month later. I'd been on the phone with my mama. He didn't like the way I laughed."

Miss Okonkwo writes it down.

"Did you tell anyone?"

"My mama. She came to the house the next week. She told him she'd kill him if he touched me again." My voice cracks. "She was a small woman. Barely five feet. But she stood in his hallway with her chin up and she told him. And he smiled at her. He smiled and he said, 'Of course, Mrs. Bennett.' And then she went home and a month later her house burned down."

Miss Okonkwo writes.

"Did you ever try to leave before this week?"

"Once. Two years ago. I got as far as the driveway and he came out and he was so — he was calm. He put his hand on my shoulder and he said, 'Elara, if you leave, I'll have you declared mentally unfit. I'll have you committed. And when you get out, you'll be in a different kind of house.'" I look at her. "I believed him. He's the kind of man you believe."

The room is very quiet.

Kael's been standing by the bar the whole time. He hasn't moved. He hasn't said a word.

"Did he ever threaten to kill you?" Miss Okonkwo asks.

"Every day," I say. "Not in those words. But yes."

"How?"

"He'd say things like, 'You know what happens to people who cross the Sterlings.' Or, 'You ever see what a fire does to a house, Elara? It's remarkable. Nothing left.'" My hands are ice. "The night before the fire he said that to me. I didn't know what he meant. I thought he was talking about something on television."

Miss Okonkwo sets her pen down.

"And do you think," she says, slowly, "that your husband is responsible for the death of your mother?"

I look at her.

And I say, "Yes."

She writes it down.

The affidavit's done at ten o'clock. Miss Okonkwo puts the pages in a folder and puts the folder in her bag and pulls her coat on.

"One o'clock," she says. "I'll meet you at the courthouse. Don't be late. And Mrs. Sterling —" she stops at the door. "Wear something dark. There's no jury but the judge is still a man. He'll make a first impression of you before you say one word."

"What should I wear?"

"Something that makes you look like a widow." She puts her shoes on. "Not a victim. A widow. There's a difference."

She leaves.

The door rings behind her.

Kael doesn't move for a long time.

Then he says, "I need to make a phone call."

"Who are you calling?"

"Somebody who owes me." He picks up the phone. "And then I'm gonna call a man about a suit."

"A suit?"

"You think I'm going into a courtroom wearing this?" He gestures at his cut. "I got a judge who don't know me, a room full of Sterling lawyers, and a woman to keep out of her husband's house. I ain't doing it in leather."

The next few hours go fast.

Jax comes back with a black suit that's Kael's and a dark dress that's Miss Ada's, and Miss Ada comes up the stairs to help me into it herself and she does it without saying a word, just little pins and adjustments and one long look at me in the mirror.

"You've got the face for it," she says.

"For what?"

"For telling the truth." She pins one more thing. "Some women don't. You do."

At twelve fifteen, Kael comes down the stairs.

I'm sitting at the bar in the dark dress. And he comes down the stairs in a black suit with a white shirt and no tie, and his hair's combed back, and the ink on his hands is covered up, and he looks — different. Not softer. Not smaller. Bigger, somehow. Like a man who's been keeping himself in a smaller box than he needed to.

"Damn," I say.

"Don't."

"Damn, Kael."

"You're not helping."

"You look—"

"I look like a banker."

"You look like a man who owns the bank."

He stops at the bottom of the stairs and looks at me.

"You look," he says, "like you're going to a funeral."

"Miss Ada says that's the point."

"Miss Ada's right." He crosses the room. "You ready?"

"No."

"Me neither." He holds out his hand. "Let's go."

The drive to the county seat takes forty minutes. Jax drives. Kael sits in the back with me and doesn't say anything the whole way, but his hand's on mine and he doesn't let go.

The courthouse is old brick and white columns and steps that go up forever. There's a black car parked in front. Not the one from the motel. A different one. A bigger one.

And on the steps, in a gray suit, with his hair combed and his face arranged into something that looks like worry, is Marcus.

He sees me.

He sees my hand in Kael's hand.

He sees the cut I'm not wearing. The dark dress. The way I'm standing.

And he smiles.

Not the mean one. Not the dangerous one. The soft one. The one that's won him a hundred rooms.

"Baby," he says. "Thank God."

Chapter 19 Ends.