Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
ROXANNE STOOD at the rail, letting the ocean’s cold winds blow through her. But she was not cold. She looked out toward the distant, murky horizon until her eyes were slowly drawn into the shoreline.
Then she saw him standing on the rocks with the water lapping at his legs. He was unmoving. His clothes hung soaked and torn and the wound on his head bled hideously. Donald looked up at her.
She should be alarmed, frightened. He laughed, a loud, echoing gurgle. Then he raised his rigid arm and pointed a gun straight at her.
“Donald,” she said, but she was still not afraid.
She didn’t move. She waited. He laughed again, louder this time, and he turned.
His whole body turned to face in another direction.
The gun was pointed at someone else now.
Her eyes followed the line of his aim until she saw who it was that stood in his sights.
“No!” she screamed. But Donald didn’t hear her. “No, don’t!” She yelled again as he cocked the trigger. A surreal glow seemed to surround him.
Brian stood there, unmoving. Unaware of the danger.
“No, please. Run!”
Donald shot the gun into an explosion of light and sea mist and when it all cleared, they were both gone.
“Nooo!” The scream woke her with the sudden shock that it was her own.
Her hands swept up to her face. There were tears on her cheeks.
Beads of sweat dotted her temples. The sensation of being terrified was still with her as she fought the accelerated beating of her heart in an attempt to regain calm.
Pushing the covers aside, she rose from her bed and went to the window.
She had to convince herself none of it was real.
But the struggle for rational thought was difficult as her heart pounded louder, demanding to be heard over the calming notion of reality.
There was no free will involved as she reached the window and her eyes searched the rocky shoreline.
There was no thought that she should or should not see something there.
Now she wiped her face with her hand and said aloud in the moonlit room, “It was only a dream. What’s wrong with me?”
Bonnie appeared at her door. “I heard you scream …”
She looked up at the woman’s questioning gaze. It was as if Bonnie didn’t need to be told. Nightmares were to be expected.
But not this one.
“It was so real, but it was only a dream. I’m still having palpitations.” Roxanne laughed a brittle laugh, putting her hand to her chest. She stepped toward the older woman. “Join me for a brandy. I’ll need it if I’m going to get back to sleep.”
“Haven’t been sleeping well myself. But it’s no surprise with the court hearing tomorrow.”
Roxanne poured two drinks and they sat in the pair of chairs at the silent fireplace.
“I should be looking forward to it. Al’s very optimistic that it will end everything. That they’ll drop the charges.” She stared ahead. The anxious feeling left by the dream hadn’t left her. She took a long swallow of the brandy. It felt warm and invigorating. But she knew it wouldn’t help.
There was something about that dream that wouldn’t go away. And it wasn’t something good.
“Of course Al also mentioned it would be a day of hell before it’s over. Once the criminal case goes away he’s certain he can get the civil suit dismissed too. And I’ll still have to deal with the media for a while.” Roxanne was glad for the comfort of Bonnie’s presence.
Bonnie shook her head. She downed her brandy and rose to leave. “You’ll handle it. You always do—a hell of a lot better than your mother ever did or would have.” Bonnie almost smiled, patted her arm, then turned and shuffled from the room.
Roxanne hadn’t heard such kind words from the older woman in a long time. “Thank you, Bonnie,” she called out after the woman. Bonnie snorted in reply.
Now she had to attempt to go back to sleep. She lay in bed with her covers pulled up to her chin, not from the cold but for protection. The residue of terror remained with her for the rest of the night.
Al hired a driver to take them to the courthouse. He seemed more nervous than she was, Roxanne thought. Bonnie stayed home. Roxanne knew Bonnie wouldn’t want to get emotional in public.
“We’ve got everything put together for the hearing—the expert forensic testimony, the results of the testing on the dynamics of the fall from the deck. At least that should surprise them. We have everything covered except one detail of course.” Al looked at her.
“Mark Baines.”
“Right. Not a minor detail, I’m afraid. Roxy, to be perfectly frank, we need his testimony if we want to prevent this thing from going any further. I haven’t heard from the detective this morning. Maybe that means he’s got him and they’re in flight.” Al looked skeptical.
She stared back at him unblinking. “He’ll show.” She didn’t know why or how she knew, but she felt sure. She felt calm. She’d used up all her heart palpitations last night.
“You’re either being terribly optimistic or a little too cocky.”
“Call it a hunch.” Roxanne smiled at him.
“I hope your psychic powers are real. There’s been enough bad press on this case to sway opinion already.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I’ve decided.
I won’t let anything bother me from here on out.
I’ve decided I can live with myself, and that’s who I have to live with.
I’m not perfect, but I know I’m better than I was.
And you’re wonderful, do you realize that?
” She touched his arm. His smile lasted only momentarily.
Al fell into silence. They had arrived. They could see the assembled media waiting for them. He turned to her when the door was opened for them. He stared at her. There were tears in his eyes.
She looked away. Her stomach knotted, tearing at her insides. So much for her calm. He took her face with his hand and turned it back to look at him. He was more composed now.
“No matter what happens, Rox, remember two things: we’ll find a way to prove you innocent and …” He paused, searching her face. Then he sighed. “And I love you.” He turned from her and got out of the car before she could say or do anything.
Her mouth opened. But all she did was sigh.
The probable cause hearing began in the Marblehead District Court before the clerk magistrate, without Mark Baines.
Roxanne was led into the courtroom with Al and a uniformed officer.
At first she didn’t look at the people filling the benches, only straight ahead at the chair that awaited her behind the defendant’s table.
But before she sat, she looked around. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and held her chin high as she glanced around the crowded courtroom.
There were familiar faces of friends who nodded at her, and there were the curious stares of the media. Before she glanced away, she caught the eyes of someone unexpected. Brian.
He met her eyes without expression, but with acknowledgment. Roxanne took her seat then, before the sudden unsteadiness of her nerves reached her legs. She looked over her shoulder and saw Penelope’s smug face.
The proceedings began with the assistant district attorney’s opening speech to the Clerk Magistrate.
Roxanne tried not to listen. “…there is sufficient evidence to show that Roxanne Monet had motive, opportunity and the means to have murdered her late husband, Donald Boswell III. Medical evidence will support the conclusion that the cause of death was murder induced by severe head impact of the deceased’s skull on the rocks where his body was found.
” He paused to look over at her. She met his eyes.
It was clear so far that their strongest “evidence” was her supposed motive.
The clerk magistrate was about to prompt the ADA to go on when there was a commotion at the back of the court. Someone had come in and riled up the media.
Roxanne turned around to look, not knowing what to expect. Her heart leapt to her throat and her hand automatically came to her mouth to stifle the cry.
Mark Baines walked from the back of the room down to the front where she sat with Al. The clerk magistrate pounded his gavel to quiet the murmurs and sudden confusion.
Mark’s face was taut and tanned. He looked thinner and sported a scraggly beard and longish hair. He looked at her with regret in his eyes and introduced himself to Al. Al’s detective had walked in behind Mark and shrugged his shoulders.
“I found him.” The PI shrugged again and took a seat in the first row behind the bar.
Mark remained standing and watching Roxanne long and hard before turning toward the clerk magistrate who patiently waited for an explanation. “I hope I’m not too late to prevent this miscarriage of justice from going any further,” he said.
“I hope not too,” Al said.
“Sit down. This is my courtroom,” the magistrate said.
“We’ll get an affidavit later. You’ll have to speak for yourself on the stand. It’s highly unusual but I think the magistrate will let it go under the circumstances,” Al whispered to Mark while she listened in with her heart pounding in her ears again.
“I think I can handle it,” Mark said. He looked at her again. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a coward.” He smiled. “But at least I’m not as much of a coward as Don was. Don’t worry.”
Roxanne smiled back. There was a lead ball in her stomach now and her nerves jumped.
She thought he looked terrible and was freshly panicked.
“I’ve missed you, Mark.” She couldn’t help her watery eyes.
He leaned over and gave her a hug. She pressed his strong shoulders to her, welcoming the comforting warmth of a friend.
The ADA finished conferring with Detective Turner. The magistrate grew impatient, and the crowd started humming louder and louder.
Roxanne could feel the tension behind her. Camera flashes were going off. Al turned to see.