Chapter Eleven
The Harrington Cabin
Jill was supposed to be working, but instead she was planning Aly’s bachelorette party slash bridal shower. There wasn’t exactly that much to plan considering the guest list was … three people total.
But once the trial was all over, Aly was going to need something fun. Something happy. And she wasn’t the kind of woman who would have enjoyed a big, raucous party anyway. This small gathering would be exactly what suited Aly.
Jill certainly hoped the wedding could be that happy for all of them, but she wanted as many things in place as possible as a reminder for her friend that no matter what happened, life had great things to offer.
Maybe it was a reminder for herself too. The trial had her tied in knots even though she wasn’t a part of it. Grandma had submitted a written statement—both at the time of finding the evidence against Mr. Bennet, and when the lawyer had asked for a more detailed account a few weeks ago.
Jill couldn’t help but worry that wouldn’t be all.
She worried they’d somehow demand Grandma go on the stand.
She worried that Grandma’s continued secrets connected to the Bennets.
Worse, Marie Bennet, the victim. Jill worried and worried and there was nothing to do with that worry except plan Aly’s party and procrastinate the book she was supposed to be writing.
Because God knew Grandma wouldn’t answer any of her questions or concerns. And Jill just wasn’t any good at pushing, demanding. Not when she loved her grandmother as much as she did.
The knock at the door caused her to jump. It was pretty much unheard of to get unannounced visitors up here. Like all her worries had conjured up something terrible.
Which was ridiculous.
Maybe it was Aly, but she usually called first. And she should still be in court. No one else should be at their door, that was for sure.
At least Grandma was taking a nap. Jill crossed the short distance to the door and her heart dropped to her stomach when she recognized her visitor.
“Detective.” She’d dealt with Detective Hayes a handful of times over the past few months. He was always calm and professional, but him showing up at her door unannounced just … couldn’t be good.
He smiled. He had kind eyes and a handsome face.
A tiny hint of salt at the temples of his dark hair.
He was dressed casually, but there was nothing casual about the gun on his hip.
Jill tried not to stare at it. Three years in Montana should make her used to guns, but she still wasn’t, even if Grandma had taught her how to use one.
Even if he was a police officer, so it wasn’t just casual.
Jill didn’t like it, no matter how many people told her it was necessary.
“Ms. Harrington, I’m sorry to drop by unannounced. I tried to call, but it wouldn’t go through.”
Jill glanced at the phone in the kitchen. She often unplugged it when Grandma was napping as she had today.
“Sorry about that. Is everything okay?”
“Absolutely,” the detective assured her. “I have a few questions for your grandmother about her written statement. Some things Mr. Vanderbilt and I want to get straight before it’s brought into the trial.”
“Oh.” Jill looked behind her. “Um, she’s taking a nap. I hate to wake her up. These cold days are hard on her.”
“If you’d rather, we can always set up a meeting in town at the police station, but I was under the impression your grandmother didn’t … travel well.”
Again, Jill looked back at the little hallway where Grandma’s bedroom was. She traveled fine enough, but Jill hadn’t wanted Grandma to have to deal with the lawyer in some clinical office. Worse, a police station. It wasn’t that Glenda couldn’t handle it, it was just…
Jill didn’t have the vocabulary to explain how much she wanted to protect her grandmother from whatever had traumatized her into being incapable of speech. Grandma hated going to town, grew agitated about it. Jill didn’t want to push it unless it was necessary—like for doctor’s appointments.
Jill never wanted to push anything.
“I can wait,” the detective offered. When Jill hesitated, he gestured to his car parked out front. “I can just sit in my car for a bit. You can come get me when she’s awake.”
He was being so nice and patient. It was just foolish not to accept this was something that had to be done.
Jill shook her head, opening the door wider. “Don’t be silly. Come in.”
He stepped into the cabin. He was a large man, and it made the space feel small. Jill tried not to be nervous, but it was a hard-won thing. She didn’t quite know what about him made her nervous when she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Maybe because you’re still worried Grandma did.
She shook that thought away and closed the door behind him. “Would you like some coffee? Tea?”
“Well, if you’re offering and it isn’t too much trouble, a cup of coffee could go a long way in getting me through the day.”
“Coffee it is.” She forced herself to smile and move into the kitchen.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, going through the steps to making coffee.
The cabin was tiny, so it was easy to talk to him while she worked, and he sat on the couch.
“Why are you asking the questions instead of Mr. Vanderbilt? I mean, I know he’s in court, but he handled the last statement. ”
Detective Hayes nodded. “Just because the trial is ongoing doesn’t mean we’re not still investigating the case as a police department. Evidence is always a good thing. And if I take Mrs. Harrington’s statement today myself, then it’s something I can testify about as well when it’s my turn.”
Jill supposed that made sense. She finished the coffee, poured the detective a mug, and handed it to him when he said black was fine. Before she could pour her own mug, Grandma’s bedroom door creaked open.
Grandma stepped out. Jill tried to smile cheerfully. “Grandma, Detective Hayes is here. He’d like to ask you a few more questions about your written statements.”
Grandma was still for a moment, then gave a sharp nod, and held up a hand in a sign to wait. Then she shuffled down to the bathroom.
“She’ll be right with you,” Jill told the detective.
“Is there a room you could go to, so I could talk to her one-on-one?”
Jill frowned at him. “But … she doesn’t talk.”
“I know, but she writes. I know some sign language as well. It’d go a long way if it was just me and her in the room. Easier for the testimony. Cleaner.”
Jill stared at the hall, then him, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t like the idea of you interrogating her alone.”
“I won’t be interrogating her,” the detective said with a gentleness that Jill had to admit was soothing. “You’re friends with Aly Cartwright, aren’t you?”
Jill nodded.
“Then we’re all on the same side. I’m not going to unduly upset your grandmother.”
Jill wrinkled her nose. “Unduly.”
The detective’s smile was sheepish. “Well, the whole trial is upsetting. But the goal is not to upset. It’s to seal this case tight. To put Benjamin Bennet away for good. I realize that can be upsetting, since your grandmother knew the deceased. But we’re all working toward the same goal, right?”
“Yes.” The same goal. Everyone wanted Benjamin Bennet punished for what he’d done. Put away for good so he couldn’t terrorize anyone anymore.
“But she…” Jill had to step closer so she could lower her voice.
She didn’t want Grandma hearing this part, even if it wasn’t a secret. Grandma knew why she was the way that she was. But they didn’t discuss Grandma’s problems. They pretended they weren’t there.
“She’s not physically mute, Detective. It’s a psychological response to some unknown trauma. Her communicating with you without me there … it’s … she might not handle it well.”
“Psychological response,” he echoed. He took a sip of his coffee, something in his demeanor changing. “Seems to be a lot of that going on.” For the first time, there was no kindness or gentleness in his tone.
Jill stared at him. There was only one other person he could be talking about. “You don’t believe Cal?” Shock didn’t begin to cover it. So much of the trial rested on Cal’s traumatic memory loss returning. If the detective didn’t believe it…
“It isn’t my job to believe or disbelieve Bennet. It’s my job to collect evidence. And build a case.”
“I saw Cal. I know it’s true,” Jill said, needing somehow to get through to the detective. She lived with a woman whose brain was affected by trauma. She knew it was real, it happened, and it wasn’t controllable. Not by the victim. Not by the people who loved the victim.
And she’d been there when Cal had dealt with some of his returned memories. She’d seen the haunted, hunted look about him. The physical repercussions of remembering.
“I saw the way that memory affected him. You should believe him, Detective. You absolutely should believe him.”
The detective eyed her. She wasn’t sure if it was wariness, disbelief, or something else in his gaze. But it didn’t matter. Grandma appeared from the bathroom before Jill could think of anything else to say to plead her case. Cal’s case.
Grandma paused once before she came into the detective’s view, then straightened her shoulders and came around the corner. She eyed the detective warily but nodded. She moved toward the living room, then signed to Jill in her way. Basically saying, I can handle it on my own.
“Grandma…”
Grandma patted her arm as she walked past. A clear I’ve got it sign. And Glenda Harrington was a grown woman. Who’d lived through heartache and strife and something that had stolen her voice.
Jill didn’t need to protect her grandmother. Glenda was strong. Glenda could handle it. Jill might hate it and wish she didn’t have to, but she knew her grandmother could.
Jill forced herself to smile at the detective while Grandma settled herself into the chair opposite him. “I’ll just be in my room.”
“Thank you for the coffee, Ms. Harrington. I appreciate it and this.”
Jill couldn’t bring herself to say You’re welcome, so she walked away.
Hoping this wasn’t another disaster waiting to happen.