Читать книгу Innocent or Guilty? - A. M. Taylor - Страница 14

“Mr Sampson,” the prosecutor says, Cole’s eyes snapping to his, locking in, “you were in attendance at the party Tyler Washington was at on the night he died, is that correct?”

“That’s correct, sir,” Cole says, keeping his eyes on the prosecutor, his face serious, earnest.

“And you saw Mr Washington leave the party?”

“Yes, I saw him as he was leaving.”

“And could you state for the record when this was?”

“It was around two o’clock, I think. I can’t remember exactly, but it was definitely around then. Could’ve been a bit before, could’ve been a bit after, but definitely around two.”

“On the morning of Sunday August 24?”

“That’s right.”

“Was he alone at that point?”

“Yeah, he was alone. I didn’t see anyone leave with him.”

“And where were you exactly when you saw Mr Washington leaving? Were you still in the house yourself?”

“No, I was out on the porch. The front porch.”

“And from here you could watch Mr Washington leave and walk down the street towards the entrance to the woods?”

“Yeah. There’s a little shortcut down there by the high school that everyone uses, and you can still see it pretty easily from Jessica’s porch.”

“And you saw him walk into the woods from your vantage point?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“And was anyone else with him at that point, when he entered the woods?”

“No, but a little while later I looked back around and saw someone on a bike go into the woods right in the same place Tyler had.”

“And you recognized that person as being Ethan Hall?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How could you be sure?”

“Well, I was pretty sure I recognized him anyway, as it really wasn’t that far, but he also rides a bike that has black and bright orange striping that’s pretty distinctive. I don’t know anyone else with that kind of bike.”

“And how much time had passed since you witnessed Mr Washington leaving the party and entering the woods?”

“I can’t be sure because it’s not like I checked the time or anything, but probably between ten and fifteen minutes.”

“So, that would make it about two ten, two fifteen a.m.?”

“I’d say so, yes, sir,” Cole says with a sharp nod of his head, and I wonder where all this sudden deference has come from.

“And do you think the two parties involved could have arranged to meet in the woods?” Curtis asks.

“Objection,” Ethan’s attorney calls, jumping to attention, “calls for speculation on the witness’s part.”

“Sustained,” the judge intones, eyes on the prosecutor, “please keep to the facts, Mr Curtis.”

“Yes, Your Honor. My apologies.” He places his hand over his heart as he says this, false sincerity leeching from him, before turning back to Cole.

“Did you see either Mr Hall or Mr Washington come back out of the woods at all, Mr Sampson?”

“No, but I went back inside to the party not too long after that. Also, they were both heading in the same direction, towards Winward Road, so there’s no reason why either of them would’ve come back to Hillier Street.”

“And you yourself didn’t then enter the woods later that night? Or morning rather?”

“No, I live in the other direction, so I just walked back along my usual route.”

“Thank you, Mr Sampson. I have no further questions.”

I hold my breath as the judge asks Ethan’s defense attorney if he’d like to question the witness, but he declines, and I can’t help but release a sigh of relief as he does so. Just watching Cole up there, taking the stand against my brother sets my teeth on edge.

I hear the voice in my ear, sweet and slow like honey, feel hands against my skin, hot and frantic, the not-so-artful addition of pressure, a knee between my thighs, pushing them apart. I shut my eyes against the court room scene, trying to push the memory away and out, shame cascading through me as I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands forcing a new feeling. It’s just a memory I tell myself, it can’t hurt me here. It’s not Cole who’s on trial; it’s not even me. It’s Ethan. I open my eyes again, and Cole is gone from the witness box. He’s back in his spot across the aisle on the other side of the courtroom; like I’m here for the groom and he’s here for the bride. He’s safe back there though, and so am I. As long as he’s out of my eyeline I don’t have to see him and don’t have to think about him. I train my eyes again on the back of Ethan’s head, reminding myself why I’m here, and whose life, exactly, is on the line.