Read Online Hostile Witness by Rebecca Forster - Free Book Online

calming a frightened girl, not fighting with a pissed off chick.
    This was a mistake, Archer.
    “Your mother’s at home,” Josie answered plainly. She motioned to the only other chair in the room. “Sit down.”
    “Did you check?” Hannah stepped forward then back again, screwing with Josie.
    “I saw her night before last night.”
    “No, I mean did you check this morning? You’re sure she’s there?” The girl’s voice rose with agitation.
    “Yes, your mother is at home.  She sent me here to help you. . .”
     “Are you a doctor? I don’t need a doctor.”  Hannah cut Josie off, her expression a mix of arrogance, anger, and a bit of childish hope.  Kids like Hannah never thought anyone saw the hope.
    Josie shook her head.
    “My name is Josie Baylor-Bates. I’m a lawyer. Now, are you going to sit down or am I going to have to call a guard to put you down.” Those green eyes sharpened. Hannah wasn’t going to give an inch and the sooner Josie took control the better. She pointed to the chair again. “You’ve got one minute, or I’m out of here.”
    Hannah’s eyes closed briefly. She squeezed her shoulders back. Those hands were pumping again and then it was over. Her body relaxed, her expression eased into something close to relief. Throwing back her hair she reached for the chair.  Josie saw the burn; Hannah saw Josie’s look of surprise. 
    From fingertip to wrist, the skin on Hannah Sheraton’s hand was swollen and mottled, red and white.  A lacy looking roadmap of darker pigment was the only reminder of what that hand used to look like.  It had been over a week since Fritz Rayburn’s death.  The injury must have been horrible if it still looked that bad.
    “Does it still hurt?”
    Hannah furrowed her brow and turned her hand to the right and left, right again as she sat down. Putting her injured hand palm down on the table, she gazed at it.
    “I don’t think so.” 
    “You have to think about it?” Josie sat, too.
     Hannah raised her eyes without lifting her head.  She was a demonic sprite with those eyes, that skin, her wild hair, and the piercings on her nose and ears. Her full lips curled around her words as if casting a spell.
    “Some people can’t stand it when the wind blows too hard. There are degrees to everything.  I don’t recognize pain. I don’t even remember it hurting when it happened.   I didn’t even cry. ”
    Josie pulled a pad of paper from her portfolio.
    “I don’t know if that’s anything to be proud of.”  Josie noted the date and time on the top of the paper, trying to ignore the warning in her gut.
    “I didn’t say it was, did I?”
    Hannah’s burned hand went to her hair, grasped the longest tendril and wrapped it behind her ear. She pulled it forward, wrapped it back and forward and stopped as suddenly as she had begun. She put her hands under the table and looked right at Josie.
    “Will you be able to paint?” Josie asked.
    “If I can’t paint I’ll kill myself.”
    “No you won’t. You’re in protective custody,” Josie muttered, making a point about powerlessness that Hannah seemed to miss.  “You can’t breathe without someone watching you. But that doesn’t answer the question. Your mother told me about your painting, and that the fire that killed your grandfather started in. . .”
    “My s-t-e-p.” Hannah spelled it out.  “Fritz was my step.”
    Hannah’s hostility spike at the mention of Fritz Rayburn wasn’t lost on Josie. She tried again.
    “The fire that killed Fritz Rayburn started in the place you used as a studio. Do you know anything about that?”
    Hannah came right back at her.
    “Why don’t you ask me if I did it? Why ask me if I know anything about it?”
    “Because I want to know what you know about it,” Josie reiterated. “If I want to know if you did it, I’ll ask you.”
    “I know that the place was on fire. I know if I wanted to burn down the house I wouldn’t have tried to put it out,