Hojo sat beside me at the prosecution’s table this morning. We were down to bare bones in the office with the fall interns having completed their semester. I wanted his eyes on the jury and in the back of my head. I still had no idea whether Cutler planned to put Jamie himself on the stand. Calling Claudia was a surprise, but not entirely unexpected. He knew I couldn’t rip into her on cross without making myself into a villain.
What was unexpected was the waifish figure who floated into the courtroom along with Claudia. Erin Simmons was here. She sat two rows back from her husband, her skin pale. Her eyes were downcast. But she was here. Her dark hair curled under her chin. She’d cut it and changed the part. But it wasn’t enough to alter her striking resemblance to her murdered sister.
“They’re looking.” Hojo wrote me a note.
Claudia wore a navy-blue knit dress with white piping around the collar. She had more confidence in her step than her husband had when he took the stand. Claudia’s hand was steady as she raised it to swear her oath. She lifted her chin in defiance and looked straight at her son-in-law as Cutler began.
“Mrs. Luke, for the record, will you explain to the court how you’re related to the victim in this case and the defendant?”
“Ellie was my firstborn,” she said. “My daughter. Jamie Simmons is my son-in-law. He’s married to my youngest daughter, Erin.”
“Thank you. And to be clear, George Luke is your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Have you communicated with your husband about his testimony in this trial?”
“Yes.”
“Were you aware that he was going to take the stand for the prosecution?”
“Absolutely not.”
“He didn’t tell you he was going to do that?”
“He most certainly did not.”
“Okay. Mrs. Luke, I’d like to take you back to twenty-two years ago, when your daughter went missing. I know these are difficult memories so I apologize for that. But you were the one who initially called the police to report your daughter missing. Is that right?”
“It is,” she said. “Ellie worked until seven in the morning as a caregiver. She was usually home no later than eight. And that was if there was something keeping her over. Like if the aide scheduled after her was late. Or if Ellie got involved in doing something for Mrs. Corning like giving her a shower and things ran long. But again, Ellie was never home past eight.”
“Is that what initially raised your suspicions?”
“Yes. Usually I would wake up when I heard Ellie coming in from the garage. Then I’d start my day. Ask her about her night. See if she wanted me to pack any kind of lunch for her if it was one of my days off. That day, I was off. But during the week, she would have to leave the house again by about one thirty. I wanted her to just go straight to bed and sleep as long as she could.”
“Of course. So, can you take me through that last morning?”
“I woke up late. After eight thirty. I went to go look and Ellie wasn’t home. Her car wasn’t in the driveway. I tried to call her but it went to voicemail. I was concerned right away. She was never that late. Not without letting me know.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I waited. Tried not to panic. Erin, my younger daughter, was already gone. She was a senior in high school at the time. She left by six thirty. I’m not that early of a riser so I didn’t hear her go. But the house was quiet. I just knew something was wrong. I woke George up, but he just told me I was overreacting. Time ticked by. It got to be nine. Nine thirty. I called the agency where Ellie worked. They told me Ellie had already called in and given her nightly report on Mrs. Corning. The day shift aide had already relieved Ellie. That’s when I knew something was really, really wrong.”
“What did you do then?”
“I started calling a few of Ellie’s friends. Only one answered. Shante Jones. She didn’t have class that morning. She said she hadn’t seen Ellie or talked to her since the week before.”
Claudia remained mostly stoic through her recounting. How she finally called the police at noon. Her frustration at the perceived slowness of the response from the sheriff’s office. But by four o’clock that afternoon, Ellie’s car had been found abandoned just under two miles from Hattie Corning’s home.
“Mrs. Luke,” Cutler said. “Did you have any idea what might have happened to your daughter?”
“No. Not at first. I was just in shock. We all were. But Ellie’s friends were always so helpful. They just showed up. Helped search. Brought us meals.”
“That’s wonderful. Do you remember which friends?”
“There was Shante, of course. And Lisa … you know I can’t remember her last name just now. And even some of Ellie’s friends from high school that I hadn’t seen for a while.”
“They all came to the house?”
