Делия Оуэнс - Where the Crawdads Sing

“Sho’ do. Tacked up right on the wall, left a’ the doah. Hep yurself.”

After she stepped from the shop with the schedule, he asked, “Ya goin’ on a trip somewheres, Miss Kya?”

“I might. My editor invited me to Greenville to meet him. Not sure yet.”

“Well then, thata’ be mighty fine. It’s a fur piece over there, but a trip a’ do ya good.”

As Kya turned to get back into her boat, Jumpin’ leaned in and looked at her more closely. “Miss Kya, what’s done happened to yo’ eye, yo’ face? Look like you been beat up, Miss Kya.” Quickly she turned her face away. The bruise from Chase’s slug, almost a month old, was faded to a faint yellowish stain, which Kya thought no one would notice.

“No, I just walked into a door in—”

“Don’t ya go tellin’ me a story now, Miss Kya. I didn’t jus’ fall off the turnip truck. Who done hit ya like that?”

She stood silent.

“Was it Mr. Chase done this to ya? Ya know ya can tell me. In fact, we gwine stand right here tills ya tell me.”

“Yes, it was Chase.” Kya could barely believe the words came from her mouth. She never thought she had anyone to tell such things. She turned away again, fighting tears.

Jumpin’s entire face frowned. He didn’t speak for several seconds. And then, “What else he done?”

“Nothing, I swear. He tried, Jumpin’, but I fought him off.”

“That man gotta be horsewhupped, then run outta this town.”

“Jumpin’, please. You can’t tell anybody. You know you can’t tell the sheriff or anybody. They’d drag me into the sheriff’s office and make me describe what happened to a bunch of men. I can’t live through that.” Kya dropped her face in her hands.

“Well, sump’m gotta be done. He cain’t go an’ do a thing like that, and then just go on boatin’ ’round in that fancy boat a’ his. King of the World.”

“Jumpin’, you know how it is. They’ll take his side. They’ll say I’m just stirring up trouble. Trying to get money out of his parents or something. Think what would happen if one of the girls from Colored Town accused Chase Andrews of assault and attempted rape. They’d do nothing. Zero.” Kya’s voice became more and more shrill. “It would end in big trouble for that girl. Write-ups in the newspaper. People accusing her of whoring. Well, it’d be the same for me, and you know it. Please promise me you won’t tell anybody.” She ended in a sob.

“Ya right, Miss Kya. I know ya right. Ya don’t gotta worry ’bout me doin’ anythang to make this thang worse. But how d’ya know he ain’t comin’ after ya again? And ya a’ways on yo’ lonesome out there?”

“I’ve always protected myself before; I just slipped up this time because I didn’t hear him coming. I’ll stay safe, Jumpin’. If I decide to go to Greenville, when I come back, maybe I could live out at my reading cabin awhile. I don’t think Chase knows about it.”

“A’right, then. But I wantcha to come in here more of’en, I wantcha to come by and let me know how things’re goin’. Ya know ya can always come out and stay with Mabel and me, ya know that.”

“Thank you, Jumpin’. I know.”

“When ya goin’ over to Greenville?”

“I’m not sure. The editor’s letter mentioned late October. I haven’t made arrangements, haven’t even accepted the invitation.” She knew now she couldn’t go unless the bruise had disappeared completely.

“Well, ya let me know when ya gwine over thar and when ya get back. Ya hear? I gotta know if ya outer town. ’Cause, if’n I don’t see ya fer more’n a day or so, I’m goin’ out to yo’ place maself. Bring along a posse if need be.”

“I will. Thank you, Jumpin’.”

47. The Expert

1970

Prosecutor Eric Chastain had been questioning the sheriff about the two boys who discovered Chase Andrews’s body at the base of the fire tower on October 30, the doctor’s examination, and the initial investigation.

Eric continued. “Sheriff, please tell us what led you to believe that Chase Andrews had not fallen from the tower by accident. What made you think a crime had been committed?”

“Well, one of the first things I noticed was there weren’t any footprints around Chase’s body, not even his own. Except those made by the boys who found him, so I figured somebody had destroyed them to cover up a crime.”

“Isn’t it also true, Sheriff, that there were no fingerprints and no vehicle tracks at the scene?”

“Yeah, that’s correct. The lab reports stated there were no fresh fingerprints on the tower. Not even on the grate, which somebody had to open. My deputy and I searched for vehicle tracks, and there weren’t any of those either. All this indicated that someone had purposely destroyed evidence.”

“So when the lab reports proved that red wool fibers from Miss Clark’s hat were found on Chase’s clothing that night, you . . .”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Tom said. “Leading the witness. And besides, testimony has already established that the red fibers could have been transferred from Miss Clark’s clothing to those of Mr. Andrews prior to the night of October 29 to 30.”

“Sustained,” the judge boomed.

“No more questions. Your witness.” Eric had known the sheriff’s testimony would be somewhat weak for the prosecution—what can you do with no murder weapon and no finger-, foot-, or truck prints—but there was still enough meat and gravy to convince the jury someone had murdered Chase, and considering the red fibers, that someone could’ve been Miss Clark.

Tom Milton walked to the witness box. “Sheriff, did you or anybody else ask an expert to look for footprints or for evidence that footprints were wiped out?”

“That wasn’t necessary. I am the expert. Footprint examination is part of my official training. I didn’t need another expert.”

“I see. So was there evidence that footprints had been wiped off the ground? I mean, for example, were there marks from a brush or branch to cover tracks? Or was there mud moved on top of other mud? Any evidence, any photographs of such an act?”

“No. I’m here to testify as an expert that there were no footprints under the tower except ours and the boys’. So somebody had to have wiped them out.”

“Okay. But, Sheriff, it’s a physical characteristic of the marsh that as the tides come in and out, the groundwater—even far beyond the tide—goes up and down, making areas dry for a while, then a few hours later the water rises again. In many places, as the water rises it soaks the area, wiping out any marks in the mud, such as footprints. Clean slate. Isn’t that true?”

“Well, yeah, it can be like that. But there’s no evidence that something like that occurred.”

“I have here the tide table for the night of October 29 and the morning of October 30, and see, Sheriff Jackson, it shows that low tide was around midnight. So, at the time Chase arrived at the tower and walked to the steps, he would have made tracks in the wet mud. Then when the tide came in and the groundwater rose, his tracks were wiped out. That’s the reason you and the boys made deep tracks, and the same reason that Chase’s prints were gone. Do you agree that this is possible?”

Kya nodded slightly—her first reaction to testimony since the trial began. Many times she’d seen marsh waters swallow yesterday’s story: deer prints by a creek or bobcat tracks near a dead fawn, vanished.

The sheriff answered, “Well, I’ve never seen it wipe out anything so complete as that, so I don’t know.”

“But, Sheriff, as you said, you’re the expert, trained in footprint examination. And now you say you don’t know if this common occurrence happened that night or not.”