CHAPTER FORTY-NINE.

When the day of the trial arrived, a police officer brought Emily through the side door. The courtroom was almost full this time. She didn't bother to look for her grandfather, or her uncles, there was no need.

Her eyes drifted to the jury box, to a middle-aged man hunched in a mass of shoulders and neck. He placed a pencil over his ear and looked directly at her. She quickly moved her eyes up the row in search of faces that would give her hope.

A bailiff announced the court was in session. Judge Grosslyn walked in and took a seat. He said a few words, and then the prosecutor stood and faced the crowd.

"I'd like to call Mr. Rupert Rezell to the stand."

Emily couldn't take her eyes off her grandfather as he made his way to the front and raised his hand. He said he would tell the truth and nothing but the truth, but as far as she was concerned, he didn't know the truth. She could almost smell the alcohol on his breath.

Then it was Ryan's turn with the cross-examination. He stepped forward, and with his eyes on the floor and his hands behind his back, he took several turns in front of the witness stand. Then he stopped and looked up at the old man.

"Mr. Rezell," he said, already sounding irritated. "Can you tell me how long Claude Thorn lived on your farm?"

"Oh, I don't know... maybe... thirty some years."

"During the period he lived with you, did you ever see him drunk?"

"Depends on what you call drunk."

Ryan hesitated, shoulders tensed. "Sir? A simple yes or no will do. Now... isn't it true that sometimes Mr. Thorn came home so drunk that he could barely walk? So drunk at times, that he passed out right there in the barn?"

"What's your point?"

Ryan pulled a hanky from his suit jacket. "Listen, Mr. Rezell. If you want to be found in contempt just keep it up." He wiped his forehead, then stuffed the hanky back in. "Let's try something simple. Did Emily ever go into the barn?"

"She had her chores to do."

"Thank you. I'll take that as a *yes'. Now tell me, wasn't it possible that Emily and Mr. Thorn were alone in the barn together on numerous occasions?"

"How'm I supposed to remember that sort of thing?"

"Didn't Mr. Thorn live in a cabin beyond the barn, and didn't he use the barn to make his way back out to the yard most of the time?"

"I never counted either way, so I wouldn't know."

"Wouldn't you say that from his cabin, the quickest way into the yard was through the barn instead of around it?"

"Sounds obvious to me."

"Tell me something, Mr. Rezell. How many drinks did you have before you came in this morning?"

"Your Honor," the prosecutor said. His voice had grown whiny. "I think the attorney is forgetting who's on trial here."

Ryan whipped out his hanky, dabbing his forehead as he turned back to his seat.

Timothy was brought forward, and the prosecutor gave him the opportunity to reminisce about the comical side of Claude.

When it was Ryan's turn to question him, he wasn't quite as obnoxious as his father, although he didn't make it much easier.

"It's noted you're the one that found the deceased in the loft. Is that correct?"

"I did."

"When you found Mr. Thorn, his jeans were around his ankles. Isn't that true?"

"No, they were not. But there was blood, everywhere."

"You must've been shocked by what you saw, and maybe you're too embarrassed to admit it. But Timothy Rezell, when you found him, his blue jeans were strung around his ankles."

The prosecutor jumped from his seat. "Your Honor. He's badgering the witness. The report I have right here says nothing of the sort."

"Sustained."

"That will be all," Ryan said, frustrated.

Emily felt that if any of the men would help her it was Steven. Although when the prosecutor began to question him, she wasn't so sure.

"The morning of Claude's murder, did you see blood spots on Miss Rezell's blouse?"

Ryan's chair scraped along the floor as he stood, leaning against the table. "Your Honor, the question is out of line. They were eating breakfast. How was he to know if it was blood or jelly on her blouse? He didn't know Claude's condition until much later."

The prosecutor glanced back, over his glasses. "Okay, then," he said, "I'll rephrase that question." He set his eyes on the jury, waiting for Ryan to sit, and then continued: "Did you on the morning of October 5, 1958, the morning of Mr. Claude Thorn's murder, see something that you thought looked like blood on the defendant's blouse?"

"Yes, I think that's what I told the police at the time."

The prosecutor asked Steven about his relationship with Claude, and then took a seat.

"Let me ask you this," Ryan said when he stepped forward. He folded his arms, resting thumb under his chin, "How many times did you see the defendant and the deceased alone in the barn together?"

"Well... uh, I couldn't say for sure."

"So it was more than once, or twice."

"Uhm, yes, I'd say it was a number of times."

Ryan slipped his hands into his pockets, and took a step forward. "I'd like you to think back very carefully, Steven. And remember you're under oath. At any time when you came upon the two, was there an instance when Claude was in any way offensive toward Emily?"

"I... well. I mean, he did some yelling now and then."

Steven had come in the barn a number of times as Emily came down the ladder. If he didn't at the time, at least now he should wonder if something had been going on, since Claude came down soon after. She kept her eyes on him, hoping he would look over so she could stir his memory, but he seemed bent on looking neither right nor left.

She watched him walk back to his seat, disappointed his testimony wouldn't set her free.

CHAPTER FIFTY.

The next afternoon, Samuel was supposed to testify, but as of yet he hadn't arrived, so Ryan called Rose to the stand. She was able to tell the court how Emily had looked after two young children, and how much she cared about them. What a wonderful loving sister she was, and how close they had become.

Then it was the prosecutor's turn. "And you've known your half-sister for how long?"

"A-almost a week."

"Do you consider Emily to be a truthful person?"

"Yes, I do."

The prosecutor thought for a moment. "Well... maybe you can help me with this, because I'm having trouble trying to figure out exactly from what experience you're drawing your trust in the defendant. Let me ask you this. Did Emily mention in passing that she stabbed Claude with a pitchfork? Or even that he died?"

"Well... n-no."

"Oh, so Emily didn't confide in you. But she did confess to her father. Right?"

Rose looked to Ryan for help, but he merely nodded.

"Rose?"

"N-no, she didn't. But she didn't deny it."

"The truth is that she was never going to tell anyone. The truth is that she was planning to get away with murder. Isn't that right?"

"Your Honor," Ryan said.

"Sustained."

The prosecutor dismissed Rose, and then two character witnesses for Claude were brought forward.

Emily thought they looked out of place with their greasy hair slicked back, and suits that looked as if they'd been borrowed. They took every opportunity to praise their friend, and if anything, made Claude look like an all-right guy.

"Was there ever a time when you saw Claude act inappropriately toward a woman?" Ryan asked one of them.

"Oh, there was a little going back and forth once in a while, but Claude loved women." The man chuckled. "Sometimes he was even a bit shy."

Emily wondered where he'd gotten that idea from, because the only time she ever saw Claude act anything close to shy was when Aunt Francine was around, and that sure wasn't because he loved her.

Court was dismissed for a break, and when they returned the lawyers were gathered at the bench.

Ryan looked pleased as he took stage. "I call Mrs. Melanie Houser to the stand," he said.

Emily noticed that Melanie was the woman she'd seen comfort Rose right after the judge had ordered her to jail. She looked so familiar, but she still couldn't place her.

The woman took her oath and sat, looking down at her hands, glancing up now and then as she spoke.

"Mrs. Houser, did you know the deceased, Mr. Claude Thorn?"

"Yes."

"Would you please explain the relationship you had with him."

"There wasn't exactly a relationship. He was... well. At one time, he was a friend of my father's. And, uhm, he dated my older sister Audrey. They broke up after a couple of months."

Finally, Emily knew who she was. Audrey the one woman who might've straightened Claude out; that's if he'd had any sense at all. What in the world was her sister doing up there?

"From what I hear," Ryan said, "it wasn't quite that simple, isn't that true?"

Melanie coughed, patted her chest, and pushed back a trundle of red curls behind an ear.

Ryan stepped over, keeping his voice low. "Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Take a deep breath, Melanie, and then tell us what you came to say."

She did as he said, still with her head down, except for the periodic glance up. "Once when my sister and I were swimming... down at the creek. She had to leave early... a-a babysitting job..."

"And... after she left, then what?"

"Well. I... I was getting ready to go back to the house when... Claude showed up."

"So now you're alone with Claude. Would you please tell the court what happened next?"

She squirmed and seemed so uncomfortable it looked as if she might be sick. "What happened was... was that Claude. He...He..." She raised her eyes to Emily, and then turned to Ryan, leaning forward. "Claude-raped-me." Her voice was barely audible.

Ryan moved closer and put a hand on the rail. "Would you repeat what you just said? Louder please."

"I uhm, I... I said that Claude... raped me."

Gasps spread throughout the courtroom.

Ryan reached over and touched her hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Houser, for being so brave."

There was mumbling throughout the courtroom until the judge slammed down the gavel.

"Quiet!"

Ryan took a few steps toward the jury, then turned back to face the witness. "How old were you when the rape took place?"

"I was fourteen, sir."