Rafferty noted the seal at the bottom of the sheet, read the contents,
and nodded. 'Well . . . well . . . ' Shaking with rage, Jessica was
irrationally determined to make Rebecca tell the truth. First, she
knew, she would have to make the woman lose her control.
'Move back, Jessica, ' Cole ordered when she took a step forward.
Jessica quickly did as he ordered, but didn't take her attention off
the woman she was determined to destroy.
'Cuff that prisoner, Sheriff, ' Daniel ordered.
'It was you, ' Jessica shouted. 'You set the fire. You tried to kill
my son. You hurt Grace. You shot Marshal Cooper. Surprise,
RebeccatCooper didn't die. Oh, yes, he's alive and well, ' she
taunted. 'And quite able to recall who he saw and what happened. The
judge is reading all about it right now. Cooper wrote a nice long
letter.' The news staggered Rebecca. She collapsed against the back
of her chair and stared at Donald, imploring him with her eyes to help
her.
Donald was thoroughly enjoying himself. There was a hint of a smile on
his face as he sat there with his head tilted ever so slightly to the
wall while he watched and listened. How thoughtful of the marshal to
insist that the only living person who could possibly identify him stay
on the opposite side of the courtroom. She couldn't see him in the
crowd, not with the sea of faces gawking at her and Rebecca. Thanks to
the overly cautious marshal, Donald didn't have to worry.
He would continue to sit back and patiently bide his time. He knew
Rebecca expected him to help her escape, but he had no such intention,
of course. He would wait it out and then sneak away. The poor dear
was looking quite desperate now. Donald knew exactly what would happen
as soon as he gave her asignal. She would jump to her feet and attempt
to use that pathetic little gun she had hidden in her pocket. One of
the lawmen would shoot her, of course.
Donald also knew what Bell would do. He wouldn't continue to stand
there with his head hanging down, his shoulders stooped, and his hands
limp at his sides, looking like the sheriff's whipping boy. Why, he
hadn't moved a muscle since he'd shuffled across the room to the
railing in front of the star witness.
The cold-blooded murderer was as cunning as a fox. He was waiting for
his opportunity to spring into action. The sheriff had already relaxed
his guardtthe old fool was still looking around for his handcuffstand
barely paying his prisoner any notice at all, which Donald knew was
just fine with Bell. The sheriff was going to have to get close to
