Brian Freeman - Immoral

Emily shook her head. "No. I stayed at a hotel in the Cities. I was tired. I had been driving all day."

"Where did you stay?" Gale asked.

"I don't remember. Somewhere on the Bloomington strip."

"Could it have been the Airport Lakes Hotel?"

"Possibly. I really don't remember."

Gale retrieved a piece of paper from the counsel's table. "In fact, isn't this a copy of your receipt from the Airport Lakes Hotel in Bloomington for that weekend?"

Emily paled. "Yes."

"Well, then," Gale said, frowning. "We have a problem, don't we?"

Emily was silent.

Gale held up the paper. "Because this receipt shows you checking in on Friday night, not Saturday, doesn't it?"

Stride murmured, "Son of a bitch."

Maggie leaned over and whispered, "Goddamn it, the sister covered for her. She swore Emily was there on Friday night."

In the witness stand, Emily hadn't spoken. Gale spread his arms, the receipt held high in his left hand. "Well, Mrs. Stoner?"

"It must be a mistake," Emily said in a ghastly voice.

"A mistake?" Gale was scornful. "They billed you for two nights, and you didn't notice? Shall we call the desk clerk who checked you in?"

Emily's eyes darted frantically, looking for cover. As Stride watched, she seemed to look repeatedly in one place, at the man seated a few feet down the row. At Dayton Tenby.

Stride glanced at the minister and saw a look of panic in Dayton 's eyes, too.

Emily crumbled. "All right, yes, I was there on Friday night. I did some shopping at the Mall of America on Saturday. Graeme wouldn't have liked it, and that's why I lied. It didn't seem like a big thing."

"How convenient," Gale said. "But the fact is, you could easily have driven to Duluth and back on that Friday night, couldn't you?"

"I didn't do that," Emily insisted.

"You check in, you head north. You would have arrived just after ten, right? Just when Rachel was getting home?"

"No. That's not what happened."

Gale smiled. "No? Tell us, Mrs. Stoner, what did Rachel do that night? What did she say? Did she push one button too many?"

"No, no, no."

Dayton Tenby leaned forward, and Stride saw him whispering furiously to Dan.

"You knew about the barn, right?" Gale persisted.

Emily didn't answer.

"I need a yes or no. Did you know what the barn was and where it was?"

"Yes."

"You'd been there yourself, hadn't you?"

"Not in years."

"But you had been there? You knew all about it?"

"Yes." Her voice was a lifeless echo.

"You had the real motive and opportunity to kill Rachel, didn't you? You had a history of violence toward her. She treated you like dirt."

Emily stared at him. "I didn't kill my daughter."

"You lied to the police. You lied to your husband. You lied to the jury. How do we know you're not lying now?"

Tears rolled in streaks down Emily's face. "I'm not lying."

Gale shrugged.

"That's all, Mrs. Stoner. I have nothing further."

Dan stood up on redirect.

"Mrs. Stoner, tell us again what you were doing on Friday night, when you claimed you were at your sister's house."

"I was shopping," Emily repeated.

Dan caught Emily's reluctant eyes. His voice softened. "You can't hide it anymore. It's time for the truth to come out. Now please, tell us. Where were you on Friday night?"

Stride saw Emily stare, stricken, at Tenby. He saw the minister nod his head gently. Emily took a deep breath and turned to the jury. She seemed composed again.

"I was at the hotel in Bloomington, just like the receipt says. I was having an affair. I didn't want my husband or anyone in the community finding out."

Dan nodded. "Who were you seeing in Minneapolis?"

"It was-I mean, I was meeting- Dayton. Dayton Tenby. He's been my pastor for years." Her words galloped out of her mouth as she tried to explain. "We didn't meet with the intention of having an affair. He was in Minneapolis for a conference. I wanted to talk to him, so I came back early. We had dinner, and then, well, one thing just led to another. We ended up spending the weekend together. It was beautiful. But I felt guilty and ashamed, and I didn't want to endanger Dayton 's career. Even though it was my fault, I knew he could be hurt."

"Were you with him the whole time?" Dan asked.

"Yes."

"Did you have any opportunity to sneak up to Duluth?"

Emily shook her head. "Of course not. That's ridiculous. There's only one person who was at home with Rachel that night. And that's Graeme."

"I watched the news tonight," Andrea said, taking a large swallow from a glass of Chardonnay, which they were gulping like cold beer. "You know how they are, all the experts handicapping who's winning and who's losing. But this time, they didn't sound like they knew. Even Bird wasn't ready to call the trial one way or another."

"Nice to know something can render Bird speechless," Stride said.

"What does Dan think?" Andrea asked.

"He thinks we're winning."

"What do you think Gale thinks?"

"I think he thinks he's winning."

"So who's winning?"

Stride laughed. "Us, I think. Then again, I'm an optimist."

Andrea, who was already more than a little drunk, shook her head. "An optimist? You? I don't think so."

"Even better. We must really be winning, then."

"Does Maggie think so, too?"

"Maggie?" Stride asked. "Maggie hates Dan so much, I think she would be content to have Stoner go free just to have Dan fall on his ass. However, she calls it a draw so far, and she's probably right."

Andrea was silent. Then she said, "I don't think Maggie likes me too much."

Stride shrugged. "I've told you about Maggie. I think she still cares about me and won't admit it. She's probably a little jealous. This is about her, not you."

"She doesn't think I'm right for you."

"Did she say that?"

"No," Andrea said. "Women just know these things."

"Well, let's leave us to worry about us, and Maggie can worry about Maggie. Okay?"

Andrea nodded. She finished her glass of wine and poured the dregs of the bottle into both of their glasses, spilling a few drops on the glass coffee table. She rubbed it off with her finger, then licked her fingertip.

Stride sat next to her in the living room. The picture window, opposite the sofa, exposed a view of the city below them and the lake, darkening in the twilight. He had changed into a short-sleeved green polo shirt and old jeans. Andrea reached over, touching the thick scar on his upper arm.

"You've never told me about the bullet, you know," she said.

"It was years ago."

"So tell me," Andrea urged him.

"It was a suicide attempt," he said. "I was a lousy shot."

"Jon-a-than," she said, drawing out the syllables in exasperation. "Don't you ever give your morbid humor a rest?"

He smiled. "Okay, it was a hunting accident."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I hunted something that hunted me back."

"You're impossible. Come on, I really want to know. Please tell me."

Stride sighed. It wasn't a part of his life he enjoyed dredging up, because he had spent a year unliving it with Cindy and a therapist.

"A few years ago, I ended up in the middle of a domestic dispute. We used to own a cabin west of Ely, and the couple that owned the place near us-well, the husband basically flipped out. He was a very good friend of mine. We were close. But he was a fragile guy, a veteran, and he lost his job and his marbles all at once. His wife called me one evening, told me he was waving a gun around, threatening to kill her and kill the kids. I knew him, knew he was serious. But I didn't call for backup, because I thought that was a good way for a lot of people to end up dead, him included. Instead, I went to talk to him."