said, “Audrey Sutter, she went up to Rochester to talk to her.”
“And why did she do that?”
“Because someone told her to.”
The sheriff looked at her. “Someone told her to.”
“Yes.”
“And what did Katie Goss have to say?”
Rachel glanced at Marky and turned back to the sheriff. “Something I think you already know about,” she said.
He looked at her darkly and for a long time. Then he said, “Tell you what I know about Katie Goss. I know some friend of hers told a story got back to Sheriff Sutter, back then ten years ago, but when he went out to talk to her, to Miss Goss, she had no idea what he was talking about. I know her story doesn’t even qualify as a story, legally speaking, unless she’s all of a sudden changed her mind about telling it. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No,” said Rachel. “But she might change her mind, if the Holly Burke case were reopened.”
“And why would the Holly Burke case be reopened?”
“Because of this!” she all but cried, picking up the sheets of stationery. “Because of that pocket.”
“That,” said the sheriff, nodding at the letter, “is one humdinger of a story, but that’s all it is, at the moment. And as for the pocket, even if it does match the blouse, it’s ten years old and has been handled by half the county by now. I don’t mean to be harsh about it, Mrs. Young, but those are the facts of the situation here. So far it’s your son’s story against the sheriff’s, with no other witnesses and only this piece of cloth, which your son has kept hidden all this time—an unfortunate move on his part, I’m sorry to say, as even the world’s sorriest prosecutor would point out that that is a practice consistent not with innocent men but with guilty ones.”
“Danny didn’t have nothing to do with Holly Burke going into the river Sheriff Halsey,” Marky said, and the sheriff nodded, as though he’d understood.
“You’re right, Marky. In the eyes of the law, right now, that is absolutely true: Danny is altogether innocent of Holly Burke’s death. But it’s also true that he was never formally charged and never stood trial.”
Though he looked at Marky as he spoke, watching carefully to see that he was understood, Rachel knew he was speaking to her. He said, “Now along comes this new piece of evidence here, and this new testimony—and possibly even the testimony of some third party like Miss Goss—and suddenly you are placing that boy into the hands of a system that may just find him guilty whether he had anything to do with her death or not. Do you understand? He’s free now. He might not be afterwards.”
“He’s free?” said Rachel. “Sheriff, he hasn’t been free a day in his life since you all took him into custody ten years ago. And you knew. You all knew about that—deputy, back then, and you protected him.”
“Momma . . .”
“Mrs. Young.” The sheriff looked at his hands on the table, then looked up again. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through. Or what you’re going through right now. But I would ask you to ask yourself one thing.”
She waited. She was trying not to tremble.
“Why didn’t Danny tell his story ten years ago?” the sheriff said.
“He was just a boy, Sheriff. He was confused. He was terrified.”
The sheriff scratched his jaw and cocked his head. “He was nineteen, Mrs. Young. And I wouldn’t say he was terrified.”
She stared at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means I watched his interview, with Sheriff Sutter, and I wouldn’t say he was terrified. I’d say he handled himself pretty well, actually.”
She just stared at him. No idea what to say to that—was that supposed to be a compliment?
When he said nothing more she tapped her finger on the table and said, “Maybe that’s not the right question, Sheriff.”
“Ma’am?”
“Maybe the question isn’t why didn’t he say anything back then. Maybe the question is why would he say anything now? I mean, why would he do that?”
“Yes, ma’am. That is an awfully good question.” He cupped his hands together on the table and sat staring at them. As though he’d captured a small bird and was deciding what to do with it. Rachel and Marky watching him. Finally he uncupped his hands, popped the snap on the breast pocket of his shirt and brought out his notebook and pen.
“All right,” he said, clicking the pen. “Let’s start with