Jennifer studied Helen closely and thought about her response. “Yes. I think we all have. I don’t know that I’m that different from anyone else.”
“Oh, come now, Jennifer. I think it’s been pretty rough for you, even by current standards. Your husband gone, your attempted rape, and that unfortunate situation where you had to kill a man. Now Kyle accused of this terrible crime. I don’t know anyone who comes close to your struggles.”
Jennifer nodded. She looked at Helen intently but remained silent.
“Rape is a pretty intense experience. I’ve worked with a number of assault victims and know that it can take a long time to recover from the trauma.”
“It does. It’s been more difficult than I would have hoped, but having Kyle home has helped tremendously.” Jennifer glanced at Kyle, whose eyes were locked on her, and she smiled at him just a little. It spoke volumes to him.
Kyle mouthed, “I love you,” to his wife, and she turned away, feeling the tears building in her eyes.
Helen paused for a second, then pressed on. “This is a personal question, and I’m sorry I have to ask it, but when was the last time you had sex with your husband?”
Jennifer paused. “I beg your pardon?”
The prosecutor cleared her throat. Every person in the courtroom got quiet, the room so silent that you could have heard a snow flake land on the roof. “I asked when you last had sex with your husband. Sometimes it can take months, or even years, for rape victims to be comfortable with intimacy again. It’s a terrible crime. Much more than physical scarring takes place, as you no doubt know. In your case, it would be even worse, with your daughter there and your son nearly being killed.”
Jennifer’s mind spun; she looked at Kyle, panicked.
Kyle could see the turmoil on her face. He closed his eyes, held his breath, and felt his heart pounding.
“And remember, Jennifer,” Helen said, stepping closer, her tone warm and understanding, like a longtime friend. “Remember that you’ve sworn to tell the truth. I know this is a personal question, but it’s important for us to understand everything. Maybe let me rephrase the question. How many times have you had sex with your husband since the EMP occurred, FIVE months ago?”
Jennifer felt the room spin as she formed the answer. “Once,” she said, her voice trembling and barely audile, even in a room full of people straining to hear her reply.
“I’m sorry,” Helen said, stepping back. “I don’t think our jurors could hear that. Could you repeat your answer, a little louder?”
She closed her eyes. “Once,” she said, loud enough to be heard most of the way to the back of the room. Jennifer’s mind raced back over the two months since Kyle’s return. That he was interested was not in doubt. The comments, the touches, the looks were obvious, but something in her had changed. Doug’s escalating harassment and the intense foulness of everything he’d done to her that night, David’s nearly bleeding to death in her bedroom, and Emma’s trauma had all made that part of her dry up. Compound that with the reality that their children slept in the same room, showers were rare, birth control was a calendar, toothpaste was a distant memory, and she felt like she resembled a starving prisoner of war. All of it had resulted in not just an absence of desire, but an aversion to the thought of it.
Once, about a month ago, she had forced herself to respond to his caresses, but Kyle had known it was difficult for her, to the point that he had apologized afterwards. She had hoped it was satisfying for him, but with his apology, she’d burst into tears and been depressed for the remainder of the day. For his part, Kyle had been wonderful, telling her how beautiful she was, reminding her what she meant to him, never pressuring her for anything more than a hug and a kiss. Now this. Her hang-ups made him look deprived and guilty.
“So, Mrs. Tait.” Helen paused and looked at Jennifer, at Kyle, at Leah’s family, then back at Jennifer. Indecision marked her face, and she took a couple deep breaths. She looked back at Leah’s father, then her jaw tightened, and she continued. “If I understand this correctly, in the ten weeks your husband’s been home, you’ve had sexual relations with him only one time. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“A healthy, sexually-active male. How’d he take the neglect?”
Jennifer swallowed, her eyes glistened, but she didn’t answer.
Helen pushed on. “I also understand he was gone for about three months prior to that.”
Jennifer nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
“So, in five and a half months, he’s had sex one time that you know of. At his age, that’s got to be pretty difficult, wouldn’t you think?” Again no answer. “Is he a eunuch or something?”
No one in the room laughed.
Helen turned to the jury. Their eyes were riveted on her. “You think a man quits wanting sex because you don’t feel like it?” Her voice was rising, her pace quickening. “You think he’d quit wanting food if you stopped feeding him? We already know he killed at least one person on his way home from Texas. How about rape? We can’t be sure about that, other than what he tells us. Crossing the country, armed, no witnesses. Who knows what kind of trail he left in his wake. Then he gets home, his wife, unable to perform, and no hookers around. What would you expect?”
Jennifer sobbed from the witness chair, her shoulders rising and falling, her face buried in her hands, a muffled “I’m sorry,” heard through the tears.
“Stop it!” Kyle jumped to his feet and glared at the prosecutor. “Stop it right now! She doesn’t deserve this; she’s not on trial.” Boyd tugged on Kyle’s arm but Kyle batted his hand away. The two guards positioned behind him jumped to their feet and grabbed ahold of Kyle’s arms. Kyle began to pull away but stopped as a murmur rippled through the courtroom.
Helen stepped back and looked nervously to the front, towards Gabe and Don.
“Kyle, sit down!” Boyd hissed, looking uneasily at the jurors.
“Jennifer, don’t be sorry,” Kyle pleaded, eyes locked on his wife. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He jerked an arm away from one of the guards and glared at them, then dropped back into his chair.
Helen caught her breath. “Temper, Mr. Tait. Try not to lose control,” she taunted, before turning her attention to the jurors. “Hopefully you can disregard that little bit of drama. You never know what a trial will bring, especially under conditions like these.” She turned back towards Jennifer, her tone less combative. “Let me conclude, Mrs. Tait. Your husband’s sexual activity has been pretty minimal the last six months, has it not?”
Jennifer wiped her eyes on her sleeve and nodded. “It has, but that’s my fault, not his.”
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. When a man is starving, he will go looking for food, don’t you think?”
“Not Kyle.”
Helen looked at Jennifer, admiring her devotion. “I have no further questions.” She clasped her hands together and smiled sincerely. “I’m truly sorry for all the stress you’re under. You’re a brave woman.”
CHAPTER 20
Wednesday, January 25th
Deer Creek, MT
Kyle heard someone in the room above him toss a log on the fire, followed by the sound of a poker scraping on the brick hearth. Kyle’s sleeping pad was up against the fireplace’s brick foundation, the warmest location in the crawlspace, and while the crawlspace was not as warm as the main floor, it was well above freezing and much warmer than he feared it would be when he had first been locked in his underground cell.
The defense had concluded midafternoon, allowing both sides time to present their closing arguments before the end of the day. The verdict was now in the hands of the jurors and would likely be decided soon, since the case wasn’t long or complicated, and there wasn’t much evidence to consider. As Helen had summarized, repeatedly, Leah Smith had been sexually assaulted, and her body had been found in the basement of a sexually starved, admitted killer, with whom she’d had previous contact, on a night he was working alone and couldn’t provide an alibi.