Read Online The Silence of Murder by Dandi Daley Mackall - Free Book Online

anything for Jer, and he’d do anything for me. I know that.”
    Keller smiles at me. “Sounds like a normal brother to me.” He turns from me and repeats this to the jury. “Absolutely and completely normal.”
    And that’s when I see what he’s done. What
I’ve
done. What I’ve done to Jeremy. “No! Wait! I didn’t mean—!”
    “I have no more questions for the witness, Your Honor.”
    “But—!”
    “You may step down now, Miss Long,” says the judge. “The court will take a short recess.” She bangs her gavel. All I can think is that it sounds like a hammer, the hammer that nails Jeremy’s coffin shut.
    And it’s all my fault.

10
    I don’t know how long I sit in the witness chair while the courtroom clears. Finally, T.J. comes up and gets me. He leads me through the courtroom. The second we step into the hallway, reporters start shouting my name: “Hope, over here, honey!” “Ms. Long!”
    I stare at them, their faces blurred, their words nothing more than static. I don’t know whether to run through the mob or find a corner and curl myself into it and rock like Jeremy did that morning.
    T.J. jerks me back into the courtroom and slams the doors shut. “There’s got to be another way out of here.” He glances at the little door that swallows my brother every day when he leaves the courtroom. “Besides that one,” T.J. mutters.
    Together, as if somebody’s pointing a gun at us, we back farther into the courtroom. T.J.’s head swivels in every direction. Then he shouts, “Chase!” He’s staring up into the gallery. I look too and see Chase, still sitting in his balcony seat. “You know another way out of here?” T.J. hollers up.
    For a second, Chase doesn’t answer. Then he pushes himself out of his seat, and I think he’s going to leave without answering T.J. Slowly, he points to the side stairs that lead to the gallery.
    T.J. takes my hand, and we climb to where Chase is, in the small balcony area, where it’s even hotter and stickier than the witness stand. The gallery smells like sweat, smoke, and furniture polish.
    None of us says a word as Chase leads the way, threading through the wooden fold-down chairs, pushing up each seat so we can get past. He stops at a skinny door. There’s a big silver alarm on the doorpost. He takes out his pocketknife and does something to the alarm. His back is to me, so I don’t see what he does. But he knows what he’s doing. He’s obviously done it before, somewhere. He turns around and sticks the knife back into his pocket. “We’re going down the fire escape. Are you both good with that?”
    I nod. Then I remember T.J.’s afraid of heights. If Jer and I sit on the top bleacher at a practice, T.J. won’t come up. “You don’t have to,” I tell him.
    “I’m fine,” he says, but the pupils of his eyes are too big, and his voice too high.
    I don’t let go of his hand as we follow Chase, taking each black metal step, clang-clanging with every move on the rickety ladder. I expect to descend into a pool of reporters and spectators, who will swallow me whole.
    But nobody’s there when we reach the bottom. I glance back at T.J., asking, without words, if he’s okay. He nods, his face cloud white, his glasses crooked. I squeeze his hand before letting go.
    “I’m parked back here,” Chase says. We haven’t asked for a ride, but we follow him. The sun has already set, leaving the sky a mess of gray.
    We get into the backseat like before, and Chase starts the car. He eases around the side of the courthouse, then away from the throng of people forming on the courthouse lawn.
    When we’re safely away, T.J. and Chase exchange words in low tones, but all I hear are empty voices. My mind is back in the courthouse, on the witness stand, going over all the things I should have said … and all the things I shouldn’t have.
    We’re halfway to Grain before I try to speak. Even then, I’m scared I won’t be able to hold back the tears that