Someday (Sawtooth Mountains Stories Book 2) Read online

  SOMEDAY

  A Sawtooth Mountains Story

  by

  Susan Fanetti

  THE FREAK CIRCLE PRESS

  Someday © 2018 Susan Fanetti

  Cover design © 2018 Susan Fanetti/DepositPhotos

  All rights reserved

  Susan Fanetti has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this book under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ALSO BY SUSAN FANETTI

  Sawtooth Mountains Stories:

  Somewhere

  The Pagano Family:

  Footsteps, Book 1

  Touch, Book 2

  Rooted, Book 3

  Deep, Book 4

  Prayer, Book 5

  Miracle, Book 6

  The Pagano Family: The Complete Series

  The Pagano Brothers:

  Simple Faith, Book 1

  The Northwomen Sagas:

  God’s Eye

  Heart’s Ease

  Soul’s Fire

  Father’s Sun

  The Brazen Bulls MC:

  Crash, Book 1

  Twist, Book 2

  Slam, Book 3

  Blaze, Book 4

  Honor, Book 5

  Fight, Book 6

  Stand, Book 7

  THE NIGHT HORDE MC SAGA:

  The Signal Bend Series:

  (The First Series)

  Move the Sun, Book 1

  Behold the Stars, Book 2

  Into the Storm, Book 3

  Alone on Earth, Book 4

  In Dark Woods, Book 4.5

  All the Sky, Book 5

  Show the Fire, Book 6

  Leave a Trail, Book 7

  The Night Horde SoCal:

  (The Second Series)

  Strength & Courage, Book 1

  Shadow & Soul, Book 2

  Today & Tomorrow, Book 2.5

  Fire & Dark, Book 3

  Dream & Dare, Book 3.5

  Knife & Flesh, Book 4

  Rest & Trust, Book 5

  Calm & Storm, Book 6

  Nolan: Return to Signal Bend

  Love & Friendship

  Historical Standalone:

  Nothing on Earth & Nothing in Heaven

  As S.E. Fanetti:

  Aurora Terminus

  To everyone who encouraged me to revive Somewhere

  and move into Jasper Ridge for awhile.

  Chapter List

  Someday Song List

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  PART TWO

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  PART THREE

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  PART FOUR

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  PART FIVE

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  PART SIX

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Someday Song List:

  Chapter 1: “You Are the Problem Here,” First Aid Kit

  Chapter 2: “Pack It Up,” The Pretenders

  Chapter 3: “Yes, I Am,” Melissa Etheridge

  Chapter 4: “It’s Hard out Here, “ Lily Allen

  Chapter 5: “My Hero,” Foo Fighters

  Chapter 6: “What If You,” Joshua Radin

  Chapter 7: “Idaho,” Gregory Alan Isakov

  Chapter 8: “The Night We Met,” Lord Huron

  Chapter 9: “Shake It Out,” Florence + The Machine

  Chapter 10: “Cinderella,” Play

  Chapter 11: “May It Be,” Enya

  Chapter 12: “If I Be Wrong,” Wolf Larsen

  Chapter 13: “I Won’t Let You Go,” James Morrison

  Chapter 14: “I Don’t Want to Change You,” Damien Rice

  Chapter 15: “If I Go, I’m Goin’,” Gregory Alan Isakov

  Chapter 16: “I Have Made Mistakes,” The Oh Hellos

  Chapter 17: “Way Down We Go,” Kaleo

  Chapter 18: “When the Darkness Comes,” Colbie Caillat

  Chapter 19: “Brave,” Sara Bareilles

  Chapter 20: “Wild Horses” (cover), The Sundays

  Chapter 21: “That’s What I Want for Christmas,” Nancy Wilson

  Chapter 22: “Take Me There,” Rascal Flatts

  Chapter 23: “Flow,” Shawn James & The Shapeshifters

  Chapter 24: “Something to Be Proud Of,” Montgomery Gentry

  Chapter 25: “I Walk the Line,” Johnny Cash

  Epilogue: “I Got You,” Jack Johnson

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  The woman sitting across the table was so small another of her could have sat beside her in the same chair. Her navy blue suit and plain white shell fit poorly, about two sizes too large, adding to the effect, making her seem like a child.

  And she was hardly more than that in reality. Only eighteen years old, with the education and experience of a girl much younger.

  Her eyes were downcast, watching her fingernails as they dug divots into her scarred forearm. Her lank hair, its color some undistinguishable hue between blonde and brunette, hung around her face. She didn’t look capable of extreme physical exertion, yet Honor knew precisely how much significant strength was in that insignificant body, and how extreme was the violence it was capable of.

  Honor had sat in this room, or another just like it, hundreds of times, conferring with a client during a court recess. She knew every scratch and gouge in the ancient table, every crack in the aging plaster walls, every fault in the linoleum tiles of the floor. Some nights, she dreamt the smell of the place, dust and mold, old paper, a mélange of body odors. To her, it was the scent of hopelessness.

  “What do you think I should do, Miss Babinot?” The young woman dashed a look at Honor, then dropped her eyes again.

  “This is a choice you have to make for yourself. I can’t tell you what to do.”

  “Isn’t it your job, to tell me what to do?”

  “No, Judith. My job is to defend you, and to advise you. The decisions are yours to make.”

  “But I don’t know.”

  “Okay. Let’s go through it again. The offer we just got is involuntary manslaughter. That’s a maximum sentence of ten years.”

  “That’s better than if they find me guilty, right?”

  “Yes. A first degree murder conviction means life in prison, or the death penalty. A second degree conviction is a minimum ten-year sentence. But the jury is deliberating, so the State offering a new deal now suggests they’re not confident
they made their case.”

  “So I should let the jury decide, then? Because maybe it’ll be not guilty?”

  Judith Jones was on trial for the murder of her father. Honor had proved, and the State of Idaho hadn’t disputed, the fact that the man had brutally abused Judith for years, sexually and otherwise, keeping her a shackled prisoner in their house, able to move only as far as the chain hooked to a collar around her neck would allow. This wasn’t a case that should ever have seen the inside of a courtroom.

  And yet, the way Judith had freed herself from the man had been so horrifically violent that it overshadowed any element of self-defense.

  Honor rose and went around the table to sit beside her client. “Judith, here’s the risk you take. The jury is deliberating now, and they’re looking at all those crime scene photos. They’re seeing what you did to your father. The question is whether they believe that so much violence was self-defense.”

  Judith lifted her eyes and met Honor’s. “It was. I had to kill him. I had to fix it.”

  “I believe you. But you did more than kill him.”

  She looked down again and picked at her arm. Before jail, she’d been a cutter; the evidence marred her arms from her wrists to about two inches above her elbows, and her inner thighs as well. In jail, without access to sharp implements, she’d taken to simply digging her skin out with her fingernails.

  Honor didn’t try to stop her unless she started to really bleed; Judith was calmer when she could feed that demon.

  “You mutilated him, Judith. Gouged out his eyes, opened his belly and carved up his organs. He was awake when you cut off his penis and testicles. You cut on him for an hour.”

  Perhaps more striking even than the violence of the murder was its premeditation. Chained as she was, Judith had had to plan extensively and time the act just right.

  The Jones house had had no phone, no computer. When the mail carrier had come by the next day, Judith had opened a window and called for help. She’d still been shackled and covered in her father’s blood when the police had arrived. A serious question for Honor to address at trial was why Judith had never called for help before.

  She’d called three expert witnesses, all psychologists specializing in long-term trauma, and all had explained how Judith was so completely traumatized that the mere existence of her father, even when he was not in the house with her, was a deterrent from escape. He had to be dead before she could see a chance for freedom.

  That didn’t explain the macabre nature of his death, however. That was pure vengeance, and it complicated things severely now.

  “He deserved it all.”

  “I don’t disagree. But the question is whether a jury in Boise will agree.”

  “What do you think?” Judith asked again.

  “I made the strongest case I could. I don’t think the State put a serious hole anywhere in our defense. The prosecutor seems to lack some confidence in his case. I think we have the best possible chance for a not-guilty verdict. But we can’t know what the jury is talking about, and I don’t have to live the consequence if we go to verdict and it doesn’t go our way. You have to decide whether the chance to go free is worth the risk of spending a decade or more in prison.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Honor brushed the young woman’s hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “I know. I wish I could make this choice for you, but I can’t. But you have to make it now; the offer goes away when a verdict comes in.”

  A deep, shaky breath expanded the girl’s narrow chest, and she sat up straight. “I know what it’s like to live in chains. I want a chance to be free. The only way I even have a chance is if I’m found not guilty. Tell them I don’t want the deal.”

  In her heart, Honor rejoiced; it was the decision she hoped the girl would make, because it meant there was something still alive in this washed-out impression of a young woman. Frankly, the violent fire of her killing act showed life, too. If she got the chance to be free, Judith could kindle that spark into a will to live, and learn to make a life of her own.

  She stood at once. “Okay. Sit tight, and I’ll be back.”

  *****

  “The defendant will rise,” said Judge McElroy.

  Honor had tried cases before this judge several times, and she’d learned something about his style. Old enough to be called elderly, he was the kind of crusty cowboy Idaho bred by the wagonload. No one could accuse the man’s heart of bleeding unduly. But he was fair, in his right-leaning, righteous way, and while his heart might not bleed, it wasn’t made of stone, either.

  He was a gentleman of the old-fashioned variety, and he didn’t like to see women cry. So when he had bad news to deliver to a female defendant, he took off his glasses before ordering her to rise.

  He’d left them on for Judith.

  Setting her hand at her client’s elbow, Honor stood and brought her up to her feet as well. Judith smoothed her hands over the skirt of her ill-fitting suit and then seemed at a loss where to put them. Honor caught a nervously flailing hand and held it.

  “Mr. Foreman, on the count of murder in the first degree, what do you find?”

  Judith’s fingers clamped hard around Honor’s as they both turned their attention to the overweight, middle-aged man in the plaid shirt and bolo tie. Experience had taught Honor how to stay calm and emotionally neutral during a verdict reading, not to put any hopes or fears into the moment. She’d tried the best case she could. She’d done her all.

  But she’d go home tonight, in comfort, no matter what the verdict was.

  The foreman turned and looked straight at Judith. “We find the defendant not guilty.”

  Judith’s hand shook. Honor spared her a glance and saw that her shoulders were shaking—but it was too early for too much relief. The jury had been given a choice between first and second degree murder.

  A murmuring whoosh went up through the gallery. None of the spectators was emotionally attached to Judith—she’d never had any opportunity to make a friend, and she had no family. Her father had been a loner, and wasn’t missed. No one knew Judith, and no one cared for her in any kind of intimate way. She’d said many times that Honor was the closest thing she’d ever had to a friend.

  But defense attorneys were like doctors, in that it was dangerous to get emotionally attached to the people they served. Honor tried to walk a line between compassionate concern and emotional investment.

  It was a fine line, and her balance wasn’t very good, but she tried.

  “On the count of murder in the second degree, how does the jury find?”

  Before he answered, the foreman looked down at the paper in his hand, and Honor prepared for bad news. He’d broken eye contact with Judith, and that usually meant a foreman was about to deliver a guilty verdict.

  “We find the defendant not guilty.”

  Honor let out an old breath. Judith’s knees folded, and the bailiff lunged in to catch her until Honor could help her stay on her feet.

  Judge McElroy nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Mr. Foreman and members of the jury for your conscientious service.” As the foreman sat, McElroy turned to Judith, whose whole body trembled and whose pale skin had lost what little color it normally had. “Miss Jones, you have been tried in a court of law before a jury of your peers and have been found not guilty of all charges against you. On behalf of the State of Idaho, you are hereby released and free to go. I wish you godspeed, young lady, as you begin a new life.” He struck the gavel. “This court is adjourned.”

  Honor helped Judith back to the seat she’d occupied for the weeks of trial. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, her eyes wide and unblinking.

  “The jury was on your side, Judith. It’s all over. You can walk out the front door with me and be free.”

  “I don’t … I don’t know where to go. I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t … know anybody.” She turned to Honor, her head moving oddly, as if on a ratchet. “Can I … stay with you?”

  Tho
ugh she hadn’t mentioned it before, because it was dangerous to let a defendant think too far ahead, Honor was prepared for this. “No, I’m sorry. But we’ll go to my office. I’ll make some calls, and find you a place to be until you get your feet under you. Come on. There’s going to be press outside. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll say a few words to give them something, and then we’ll get the hell out of here, okay?”

  *****

  Though trial attorneys tended to work long, erratic hours, especially as trial dates approached, usually by seven or eight in the evening the firm’s offices were quiet and most of the activity came from the cleaning staff. Honor enjoyed working in those late hours, when the lights of the common spaces were low and most of the offices were dark and closed. The dark windows at her back, with a partial view of the glinting Boise skyline, such as it was, felt warmer, more solid, to her in the night than in the day. And she liked the sounds of the office at near rest, too. She found the sonorous drone of the vacuum both soothing and focusing. Even when she wasn’t the only attorney still in the office, she could pretend she was.

  On this night, just past ten o’clock, she sat at her desk, finishing her notes on the Judith Jones case and doing a final tidy on some other files. Despite the dark and quiet, focus eluded her. The day had been a chaotic thrill ride of highs and lows, and her brain still rocked from the adrenaline overload.

  She was so immersed in her work, so steeped in tumultuous thoughts, that the knock at her closed door made her flinch. It opened as she looked up, before she could invite the knocker in, and Keith Wall, a junior partner in the firm, peeked in. “I’m heading out. Come with me. I’ll buy you a drink. We should celebrate your W. And talk about what you said in the meeting.”