“I’m not going today. I don’t feel well.”
“You’re going,” Mila said simply.
Jolene thought about making a scene, getting angry, but she was too worn-out and depressed to do anything but comply.
*
Michael spent most of the day in court, questioning potential jurors. Of one person after another he asked probing questions, trying to get to the heart of bias. When court was adjourned for the day, he returned to his office and worked for an hour or so on his opening statement.
He knew the prosecutor’s opening in the Keller trial would be matter-of-fact. Brad would begin with the damning facts of the murder, repeating often how Emily had trusted her husband and loved him and how Keith had shot her in the head. He’d hammer home that Keith had never denied shooting his wife. He’d lay out the forensics of the case, layer fact upon fact until the jury would more than halfway believe that there was no reason for them to be there. They would be told that Keith’s memory loss was “convenient” and no doubt a bald-faced lie. He’d probably close with something along the lines of: “Who wouldn’t want to forget that he’d shot his young wife in the head? Well, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’ll tell you who won’t forget.” Then he’d turn to Emily’s weeping parents. “I don’t want to tell them their daughter’s murderer will go free. Do you?”
Usually, Michael would refute every piece of evidence in the opening, try to plant doubt about the case both in its specifics and in its entirety.
In this case, however, Michael was going to take a calculated risk. He wouldn’t refute that Keith had killed his wife. What he wanted the jury to understand was why. In Washington State, it fell to the state to prove each element of the crime, including intent. Put simply, the state had to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Keith had intended to kill his wife.
Intent.
That was the crux of it.
He was still mulling it over at five thirty, as he drove off the ferry and headed toward home. As he turned into his driveway, he wondered how Jolene’s day had gone. For once, Mila wouldn’t be here, taking care of the girls after school. They were with Jolene again for the first time.
Pandemonium greeted him.
Every light in the place was on, the TV was blaring some movie with teenyboppers dancing together, and the girls were fighting. He could tell by the wild look in Lulu’s eyes that she was seconds away from a screaming fit, and Betsy looked pissed.
At his entrance, they stopped shrieking at each other and started screaming at him.
“Whoa,” he said, raising his hands. “Slow down.”
“Mommy doesn’t like us anymore,” Lulu said.
“She was a bitch, Dad. I know that’s a bad word, but it’s true,” Betsy said. “And now she’s in her room and she won’t come out. When I went in, she said, ‘Not now, Betsy.’ She hasn’t even apologized for this morning.”
“This morning? What happened this morning?” he asked.
“We were late to school. We missed the bus,” Betsy said, her voice shrill with the remembered horror of it.
“She dropped the water for oatmeal and said a bad word,” Lulu added solemnly, her mouth trembling. She was seconds away from crying.
“Now, girls, you remember we talked about this. It isn’t going to be an easy transition. We’ve talked about being patient, remember?”
“Yeah, well, you should have talked to her about it. I even offered to help with breakfast and everything,” Betsy said. “There’s something wrong with her, Dad.”
Through the blustery anger, he heard his daughter’s fear, and he understood it. Jolene wasn’t the same woman she’d been before, and none of them knew quite how to deal with her. “We’ll be okay, Betsy.”
“You know what, Dad? I’m sick of hearing that. It’s a big fat lie.”
“She’s different,” Lulu whispered, crying now. “She didn’t even talk to us after school.”
Michael knelt down and opened his arms. The girls ran at him, throwing themselves into his embrace. He held them tightly.
When they finally drew back, Michael saw the tears in Betsy’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Betsy. I know she hurt your feelings—”
“Mine, too!” Lulu said.
“Both of your feelings,” he corrected. “But just think of how bad it feels when you get a cut or a bruise. She lost her leg. It’s going to take a while for everything to get back to normal. I should have prepared you for that. Hell, I should have prepared myself for it.”