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“So there were two girls in the lake,” the prosecutor says. “One came back to shore and the other didn’t?”
“That’s right.”
“And this girl who came back to shore, the one you saw pushing the other girl’s head down and seemingly using her body like some kind of lifesaver…”
Gina stands. “Objection, Your Honor.”
“Sustained,” the judge replies before casting a warning glance in the prosecutor’s direction. “No need for dramatics here, Mr. Addison.”
The prosecutor clears his throat. “The girl you saw survive that night, is she here?”
“I think so.”
Mr. Pitts glances at me. I look away.
“I can’t say for sure that I know what she looks like now, but I read about those girls later and I remember the one who died was T…Trisha Holloway and the one who survived was Cathy Jeffries.”
I shake my head in disbelief. I know I’m the one who survived and Trisha didn’t. I know that until this moment, I thought I was responsible for Trisha’s death. Now that I’ve heard it from someone else’s mouth, though, I can’t bring myself to believe it. My mind and heart rage against the thought of it.
I didn’t kill her. I didn’t.
Gina squeezes my hand.
“It will be alright, Cathy,” she whispers.
Will it?
“That will be all,” I hear the prosecutor say.
Gina leaves the table.
“Mr. Pitts, you’re a caretaker for one of the cabins around Lake Staggart. Am I right?” she asks as she approaches the old man who just said I killed Trisha.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I started in 1998 and I stopped around 2011.”
“And during this time, you lived at the cabin?”
“I had my own place next to the shed,” Mr. Pitt says.
“Which you shared with your family?”
“No. I’m divorced.”
“So you stayed there alone. No one can say whether or not you were inside your room on the night of July 16, 2008?”
I lift my chin as I feel the first glimmer of hope. That’s right. Mr. Pitts could be lying.
Mr. Pitts pauses. “No, but – ”
“Your Honor, I have here the testimony of a guest saying he saw Mr. Pitts leave his residence before 10 PM on July 16, 2008,” the prosecutor says.
He lifts the paper in his hand.
Gina frowns. “You couldn’t have submitted that beforehand?”
“I submit it as evidence now, Your Honor,” the prosecutor addresses the judge. “In support of Mr. Pitts’ testimony.”
“Very well,” the judge says.
My shoulders sink further. I guess Mr. Pitts is telling the truth after all.
The prosecutor hands the judge and Gina copies of the document.
Gina looks at it. “Anything else you’d like to submit?”
The prosecutor shakes his head.
Gina brings the document to the table. I try to sneak a glance but she slips it under her laptop and goes back in front.
“Was it your habit to take a walk outdoors late at night when you were staying at the cabin, Mr. Pitts?” she asks.
“No,” he answers. “It wasn’t a habit. But when I can’t sleep and the moon is out, I do sometimes take a walk.”
“Even though you have a bad leg?”
“Yes. My doctor says exercise is good for me, that my leg would get worse if I sat still.”
“So you took a walk on the night of July 16, 2008?”
“Yes.”
“And you happened to pass by the lake?”
“Yes.”
“And you saw two teenage girls swimming?”
“Yes.”
I gaze down at my lap and fuss with my skirt.
“You’re sure you saw them?” Gina asks. “Even though there are no lights around the lake and the nearest cabin was on the other side of the shore, about a mile away?”
“The moon was full,” Mr. Pitts says. “It was out.”
My hands grow still. Not really. It was coated with clouds.
“And the girls had a lantern perched on a tree branch,” Mr. Pitts goes on. “One of those battery-powered ones. Red.”
“Just like the one found at the scene,” the prosecutor adds.
I frown.
“So you’re sure you saw them?” Gina asks.
“Yes.” His answer makes my chest ache.
“Has your vision always been good?”
“Objection, Your Honor.” The prosecutor is on his feet again. “I’ve already submitted a report from an ophthalmologist saying Mr. Pitts’ vision is excellent and has always been so.”
“Sustained,” the judge answers. “Next question, counsel.”
“You weren’t drunk that night?” Gina asks.
“No. I don’t drink when there are guests,” he answers.
Which means his vision was really good and his memory better than mine.
“And did you see anyone else?” Gina asks next.
“No. Not then.”
My eyebrows go up. There was no one? Not even that boy I remember seeing with Trisha? Where did he go?
“And you’re positive you saw Cathy pushing Trisha’s head below water?”
“Yes.”
I swallow.
“I understand why you didn’t help them, but you didn’t even shout at them? You didn’t tell Cathy to stop what she was doing?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” the prosecutor protests once more. “Mr. Pitts is not the one on trial here.”
“But his testimony is the basis for the charges against my client,” Gina answers.
