The Anniversary Read online

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  Also by Amy Gutman

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  Equivocal Death

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  THE

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  ANNIVERSARY

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  A N o v e l

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  AMY

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  GUTMAN

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  LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY

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  Boston New

  York London

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  Copyright © 2003 by Amy Gutman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Quotations from A Nietzsche Reader translated by R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Classics, 1977), copyright © 1977 by R. J. Hollingdale, reprinted by permission.

  Material from The Seven Sins of Memory: How the Mind Forgets and Remembers by Daniel Schacter, copyright © 2001 by Daniel L.

  Schacter. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company.

  All rights reserved.

  “In the Mood” by Pat McLaughlin, copyright © 1980 Universal —

  Songs of Polygram International, Inc., on behalf of Jack Music, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Used by permission.

  Little, Brown and Company

  1271 Avenue of Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  Visit our web site at www.twbookmark.com.

  First eBook Edition: June 2003

  ISBN: 0-7595-9833-9

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  For my family — again

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  P R O L O G U E

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  Nashville, Tennessee

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  Eleven years ago

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  As soon as the jury came back, she knew.

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  Faces somber, eyes trained on the floor, they filed back to their 12

  seats, these twelve men and women who held his lif
e in their 13

  hands. None of them glanced toward the spectators. None of 14

  them met his eyes. In her third-row gallery seat, Laura Seton leaned 15

  slightly forward. Placing a hand on her throat, she felt a birdlike 16

  pulsing flutter. As her fingers traced the delicate bones of her 17

  neck, she thought how easy it would be to break them.

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  Judge Gwen Kirkpatrick looked down on the room from her 19

  position high on the bench. She had thick, dark hair streaked 20

  with gray and a bright red gash of a mouth. A bronze disk hung 21

  on the wall above her, the Great Seal of the State of Tennessee.

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  It floated there like a halo, invoking some higher good. Not that 23

  Laura believed in that. She believed in very little these days.

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  “All right, if the record would reflect that the jury is back in 25

  the courtroom after their deliberations.” Judge Kirkpatrick took a 26

  sip of water, then turned to the jury box. “Mr. Archer, you are still 27

  the foreperson of this jury, is that correct?”

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  “Yes, ma’am.” Archer was a stocky man with blue suspenders 29

  and a white moustache, recently retired from thirty years in the 30

  insurance industry.

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  “I understand that you’ve reached a verdict.”

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  “Yes, we have.”

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  Laura glanced at her watch: 10:55 a.m.

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  For the first time since she’d arrived, she allowed herself to S 35

  look at him.

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  A M Y G U T M A N

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  A dark-haired man in a navy blazer seated beside his lawyer.

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  His face was beautiful in profile. A high, rounded forehead, straight 3

  nose, chiseled chin. He gave the impression of being at once both 4

  sensitive and strong. While she couldn’t clearly see his expres-5

  sion, she easily pictured it. The vaguely ironic smile. Eyebrows 6

  slightly raised. As if he were a little bored but trying to be polite.

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  His deep brown eyes would be shining, like stones from a riverbed.

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  He leaned toward his lawyer to say something. She willed him 9

  to turn around.

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  Please, Steven, look at me. There’s something you need to know.

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  His back stiffened almost imperceptibly, as if he’d read her 12

  thoughts, until a moment later he lapsed into stillness again.

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  She hadn’t planned to be here today, had planned to sleep 14

  through it all. She’d gotten as drunk as she could last night before 15

  passing out on the floor. But at 4 a.m. she’d snapped awake and 16

  stumbled into the bathroom. In the glare of the fluorescent light, 17

  she’d looked like she was dying. Haggard face, pallid skin, huge 18

  burning eyes. “I’m only twenty-four,” she’d whispered. “I’m only 19

  twenty-four.” For reasons that now eluded her, this had seemed 20

  significant.

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  From the front of the room, the voices pressed on, but Laura 22

  barely listened. She forced herself to breathe. She noticed her 23

  skirt was too tight. During the past few months she’d gained at 24

  least ten pounds, but the effect was oddly soothing. Buried in 25

  flesh she felt safer. As if she couldn’t be seen.

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  Memories were flashing through her mind, like a video on fast-27

  forward. Lobsters at Jimmy’s Harborside. Camping in the Smoky 28

  Mountains. Dancing at 12th & Porter to driving country rock.

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  I’m in the mood, I’m in the mood, I’m in the . . .

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  And then there were the other things. The things she didn’t 31

  want to remember.

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  A blood-soaked shirt behind the bed.

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  Bone fragments in the fireplace.

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  Knives. A mask. Rubber gloves.

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  But always an explanation.

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  Always an explanation. Until one day, there just wasn’t.

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  T H E A N N I V E R S A R Y

  “Mr. Gage, would you please stand and face the jury?” That 1

  was the judge again.

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  Steven Gage got to his feet. He seemed calm and somewhat 3

  bemused. Simply going through the motions, as if he were hu-4

  moring them.

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  “Mr. Archer, would you read me the verdict as to count one of 6

  this indictment.”

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  Archer rubbed a hand over his mouth, then, eyes down, 8

  started speaking. “We, the jury, unanimously find that the State 9

  has proven the following listed statutory aggravating circum-10

  stance or circumstances beyond a reasonable doubt . . .”

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  The words rolled on, endless and without meaning. A barrage 12

  of neat official language to disguise what was happening.

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  Now, Steven. Look. Now.

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  But his eyes remained on the jury. He didn’t turn around.

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  The sense of déjà vu grew stronger by the moment. It seemed 16

  to Laura that they’d done this all just ten days ago. But after the 17

  determination of guilt had come a whole new round of proceed-18

  ings. They called it the penalty phase. Mitigating factors. Aggra-19

  vating factors. All of them brought to light. The testimony had 20

  lasted for more than two days, but the jury was back in an hour.

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  Laura’s eyes roamed the gallery, the sea of crowded benches.

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  The elderly man beside her smelled like wintergreen. The fami-23

  lies were sitting in the front rows, as they had throughout the 24

  trial. Dahlia’s family to the right of the aisle, Steven’s on the left.

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  Dahlia’s parents sat ramrod straight, their teenage son between 26

  them. The boy, sullen and slightly sprawled, looked utterly out of 27

  place. Across the aisle, Steven’s mother was flanked by two 28

  grown sons. A small, plump woman with bottle-blue hair, she’d 29

  shrunk down in her seat. Laura had a sense that if her sons 30

  weren’t there, she’d slide right onto the floor.

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  A jagged line of pain shot through Laura’s brain. Her mouth 32

  was dry as sand. She breathed in hot recycled air, blown from 33

  vents in the wall. Dun-colored curtains covered the windows, 34

  shutting out the sun. The world had collapsed into this single S 35

  place. There was nothing outside this room.

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  A M Y G U T M A N

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  Laura felt the words before she heard them, as her heart tore 2

  into her chest.

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  “We, the jury, unanimously find that the punishment for the 4

  defendant, Steven Lee Gage, shall be death.” />
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  An instant of absolute silence, and then the whispers began.

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  Laura’s stomach heaved, and she pressed her hands together. It 7

  had happened, it had actually happened, and she couldn’t take it 8

  in. She’d tried to imagine how it might feel, but she’d never 9

  imagined this. An utter absence of feeling, a blankness akin to 10

  sleep. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. She tried to absorb 11

  the meaning. But before the words could fully sink in, something 12

  was happening. Up front, a flurry of action. Steven had lunged 13

  toward the judge.

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  “I do not accept this verdict! I do not accept it, do you hear 15

  me?” He stood slightly crouched and quivering, glaring at Judge 16

  Kirkpatrick. “I am innocent, and you are the guilty ones, all of 17

  you here today. Those responsible for this will pay. Do you hear 18

  me? All of you will pay!”

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  A muffled roar in the gallery, as Kirkpatrick pounded her gavel.

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  “Mr. Phillips, control your client!”

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  “Steven. Please. Calm down.” George Phillips raised a slender 22

  hand, but his client didn’t respond. Instead, Gage took another 23

  step forward, his eyes burning into the judge.

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  Two court officers were rushing forward, converging around 25

  Gage. The first one, well over six foot five, tackled Gage from be-26

  hind. He seemed to have gained a hold until Gage bit down on his 27

  hand. The injured man stumbled backward, let out an agonized 28

  shriek, as his partner, hurling himself toward Gage, wrestled 29

  him to the ground. “No! Steven. No! Oh God!” Steven’s mother 30

  clutched her other sons’ arms as her screams gave way to sobs.

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  Gage fought back from the floor, spitting, writhing, kicking.

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  Everywhere, spectators were jumping up, gawking at the scene.

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  Laura was almost surprised to find she was standing too, craning 34

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  bright red. Veins pulsed in his forehead. She didn’t want to look, 36 R

  but she couldn’t turn away.

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  T H E A N N I V E R S A R Y

  This is what they saw, she thought. This is what they saw.

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  He’d managed to get to his feet again when one of the bailiffs 2

  grabbed him, jammed a knee in his lower back and hurled him 3

  against a table.

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  “Jesus Christ, get him! Get him!” That was Tucker Schuyler, 5

  Dahlia’s younger brother. He pounded a fist into his palm, his 6

  face as red as his hair.

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  Another vicious flailing struggle, and Gage broke free again.

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  He flung himself toward the gallery, his eyes bulging grotesquely.

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  A swirl of movement now, as spectators streamed for the door.

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  The jurors, who’d climbed to their feet, seemed astonished, dis-11