The Murder Rule(22)

When we were ready, Tom slung our bag over his shoulder and helped me off the boat, and we walked up the path toward the trees and the house. I stopped at the top of the hil and looked back. Mike had already disappeared below deck, but Dom was stil standing on the jetty, and he was watching us. I shivered. Tom took my hand.

“You okay?”

I told him I was fine, but I wasn’t. I had that horrible feeling again, like something bad was going to happen. Tom was frowning, looking back over my shoulder toward the boat.

“Come on. I’l take you home. I don’t know what that was al about, but I’l talk to Mike when I get back.”

I thought about suggesting that I stay. Not for romantic reasons.

Just to provide support. But Tom drew me quickly through the house to the car and I fol owed. And a few minutes later, when he was driving and we had the windows down and music playing, I started to feel a lot better. He held my hand and I ran my thumb along his scar.

And the whole mood changed again and everything started to build.

By the time we got to the hotel we had both forgotten about the whole Mike thing.

Tom parked the car and leaned over and kissed me. I pul ed away, looking into his eyes. His expression was so serious when he looked at me and it made me want him so much more. It was my turn to take him by the hand and lead. My room is pretty basic—just a single bed, a desk, and a tiny bathroom—but with Marta gone it’s private. I closed the door behind us. Neither of us turned the light on.

The sun had set but the moon was bright and there was enough light coming in through the window that we could see each other, just. I took off my T-shirt. He untied my bikini top and dropped it on the floor. He kissed me and we fel onto the bed. And everything was perfect. Until afterward, when I suddenly felt afraid. I don’t know why, but I suddenly had this horrible feeling that I was about to lose him.

Maybe everyone feels like that when they find someone special.

“Stay,” I said, clinging to him.

He turned over and kissed me. Told me he wasn’t going anywhere. Five minutes later he was asleep. And I’ve been lying here, staring at the ceiling, since.





Hannah

FIVE

TUESDAY, AUGUST 27, 2019

When Robert Parekh finished his pep talk, Jim Lehane took center stage and started to run through the details of the Sarah Fitzhugh case. He didn’t have Parekh’s natural magnetism. He was lower key, less intense, but he had no trouble keeping the attention of the room.

“Here are the basic facts. In 2007 a young mother by the name of Sarah Fitzhugh was alone in her apartment with her children—she had two, Samuel, age seven, and Rosie, who was a baby, just over six months old. Sarah and Samuel had dinner—pizza, I think—and Sarah fed the baby. Then—we don’t know for sure but we’re assuming she fol owed her usual routine—she put the children to bed. Probably no later than seven-thirty. After that, she watched TV

for a while. Her husband, Saul, was a midshipman in the Navy, and he was halfway through a six-month tour. By al accounts their relationship was good. Sarah’s parents lived two blocks over so they were able to help her when Saul was away, and that made things a little bit easier. Anyway, Sarah’s parents had nothing but good things to say about Saul, and as he was three thousand miles offshore at the time of the murder, it’s safe to say that Saul had nothing to do with her death.

“At nine-thirty Sarah turned off the TV, put her dishes in the sink, and climbed the stairs to bed. We know about the TV and timings because Sarah was living in a smal apartment in Yorktown, and it seems the wal s were paper thin. The neighbors could overhear each other’s conversations.” Jim looked down at his notes. “Rita and Thomas Stamford gave evidence that they heard Sarah’s television going until about nine-thirty, and they heard nothing at al after that.

Sarah went upstairs, took a shower, changed out of her jeans and Tshirt, and put on a nightgown. It’s probable that Sarah fed the baby again later, before returning her to her crib. At some point in the night a man entered Sarah’s bedroom and raped and strangled her in her own bed.” Jim cleared his throat.

“It seems that Sarah did not scream or make any loud sounds during the attack, which the pathologist later said likely went on for some time, given the nature of her injuries. She may have been unable to scream—she was strangled—or she may have been keeping quiet for other reasons. The prosecution suggested in the original trial that her attacker may have threatened to hurt the children if she cried out. According to the prosecution, her little boy, Samuel, slept through the attack, and only woke when the baby started crying. At approximately one-thirty A.M.—but please bear in mind the evidence about the time line is shaky at this point—Sarah’s attacker final y kil ed her through strangulation, and left the house.”

Hannah was listening intently. So much of this she already knew, had gleaned from microscopic examination of every newspaper article written about the case, but it was different hearing it spoken about here, in this manner. Jim was to the point, straightforward, but he was also respectful, unlike many of the newspaper articles, which lingered over titil ating details and ignored others.

“The prosecution’s case was that Samuel Fitzhugh, then age seven, woken by his sister’s crying, came to the door of his bedroom and watched, unseen, as the attacker left the house. Samuel later identified our client from a photographic lineup, but we al know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is at the best of times. And we’re talking about a traumatized seven-year-old here. Not exactly the gold standard. Anyway, Samuel ran to his mother and found her unresponsive. He was very distressed, but somehow he managed to get his sister out of her crib and he carried her next door to the Stamford apartment. At two A.M. Thomas Stamford cal ed the police, who showed up twelve minutes later.”