Where the Crawdads Sing

“That’s ’xactly right. Me and Denny were out there fishin’. Been there since dawn.”

“For the record, that would be Denny Smith?”

“Yeah, me ’n’ Denny.”

“All right. I would like you to tell the court what you saw that morning.”

“Well, like I said, we been there since dawn, and it was near ’leven I reckon, and hadn’t had a nibble for some time, so we was ’bout to pull our lines and head out, when we heard a commotion in the trees over on the point. In the woods.”

“What kind of commotion?”

“Well, there was voices, kinda muffled at first, then louder. A man and a woman. But we couldn’t see ’em, just heard them like they was fussin’.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, the woman started hollerin’, so we motored over to get a better look. See if she was in trouble.”

“And what did you see?”

“Well, by the time we got closer, we seen the woman was standin’ next to the man and was kicking him right in the . . .” Rodney looked at the judge.

Judge Sims said, “Where did she kick him? You can say it.”

“She kicked him right in the balls and he slumped over on his side, moanin’ and groanin’. Then she kicked him again and again in his back. Mad as a mule chewin’ bumblebees.”

“Did you recognize the woman? Is she in the courtroom today?”

“Yeah, we knew ’er all right. It’s that ’un there, the defendant. The one folks call the Marsh Girl.”

Judge Sims leaned toward the witness. “Mr. Horn, the defendant’s name is Miss Clark. Do not refer to her by any other name.”

“A’right, then. It was Miss Clark we seen.”

Eric continued. “Did you recognize the man she was kicking?”

“Well, we couldn’t see him then ’cause he was writhin’ and wigglin’ around on the ground. But a few minutes later he stood up and it was Chase Andrews, the quarterback a few years back.”

“And then what happened?”

“She came stumblin’ out toward her boat, and well, she was partway undressed. Her shorts ’round her ankles and her knickers ’round her knees. She was tryin’ to pull up her shorts and run at the same time. The whole time shoutin’ at him. She went to her boat, jumped in, and zoomed away, still pullin’ at her pants. When she passed us by, she looked at us right in the eyes. That’s how I know ’xactly who it was.”

“You said she was shouting at him the entire time she was running toward her boat. Did you hear exactly what she said?”

“Yeah, we could hear her plain as day by then ’cause we were pretty close.”

“Please tell the court what you heard her shout.”

“She was screamin’, ‘Leave me alone, you bastard! You bother me again, I’ll kill ya!’”

A loud murmur shot through the courtroom and didn’t stop. Judge Sims banged his gavel. “That’s it. That’ll do it.”

Eric said to his witness, “That will be all, thank you, Rodney. No further questions. Your witness.”

Tom brushed past Eric and stepped to the witness stand.

“Now, Rodney, you testified that at first, when you heard those muffled but loud voices, you couldn’t see what was going on between Miss Clark and Mr. Andrews. Is that correct?”

“That’s right. We couldn’t see ’em till we moved up some.”

“And you said the woman, who you later identified as Miss Clark, was hollering as if she was in trouble. Correct?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t see any kissing or any sexual behavior between two consenting adults. You heard a woman shouting like she was being attacked, as if she was in trouble. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“So, isn’t it possible that when Miss Clark kicked Mr. Andrews she was defending herself—a woman alone in the woods—against a very strong, athletic man? A former quarterback, who had attacked her?”

“Yeah, I reckon that’s possible.”

“No further questions.”

“Redirect?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Eric said, standing at the prosecution table.

“So, Rodney, no matter whether certain behavior was consensual or not between the two of them, is it accurate to say that the defendant, Miss Clark, was extremely mad at the deceased, Chase Andrews?”

“Yeah, plenty mad.”

“Mad enough to scream that if he bothered her again, she would kill him. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yeah, that’s how it was.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

41. A Small Herd

1969

Kya’s hands fumbled at the tiller as she looked back to see if Chase was following in his boat from Cypress Cove. She motored fast to her lagoon and limp-ran to the shack on swelling knees. In the kitchen, she dropped to the floor, crying, touching her swollen eye and spitting grit from her mouth. Then listened for sounds of him coming.

She had seen the shell necklace. He still wore it. How could that be?

“You’re mine,” he’d said. He’d be mad as hell that she kicked him and he’d come for her. He might come today. Or wait for night.

She couldn’t tell anybody. Jumpin’ would insist they call in the sheriff, but the law would never believe the Marsh Girl over Chase Andrews. She wasn’t sure what the two fishermen had seen, but they’d never defend her. They’d say she had it coming because, before Chase left her, she’d been seen smooching with him for years, behaving unladylike. Actin’ the ho, they’d say.