We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [101]
“We can’t prove Schenckendorff is innocent,” he said, looking from Matthew to Judith. “That’s the only thing that would do now.”
“There isn’t any proof!” Mason’s voice was tight with anger. “What a bloody irony!” He did not need to put it into words. They were all thinking the same thing. Blind chance, a chain of individual lies and debts, a military policeman ruled more by ambition than justice—and the Peacemaker had won again.
“What have we been fighting for?” Joseph said softly. “If in the end we hang an innocent man for our convenience, to save us the trouble of finding the truth and the discomfort of facing an answer we don’t like? We could have saved the slaughter and simply surrendered in the first place.”
Judith put her head in her hands and knew that she must go and speak to Lizzie. It would be a pain almost unendurable, but it was no longer possible for Lizzie to remain silent about her own rape.
CHAPTER
NINE
Joseph spent a wretched night. It seemed that after all their efforts they were finally defeated. He had pleaded with Onslow, who was a lean, pale, hazel-eyed man with a fresh-clipped haircut. Onslow had listened with civility, then said he was sorry but the matter had dragged on too long. The crime was a hideous one, even by the standards of violence they had become tragically used to. Now at last they were looking forward to peace—it could come within days—and this matter must be settled. It was not only for the sake of justice, but for the men and women of this Casualty Clearing Station whose morale had suffered so profoundly.
Nothing Joseph could say about injustice, lack of evidence, even the possibility of someone else being guilty had altered Onslow’s judgment in the slightest. Schenckendorff would be moved out sometime the following day, as soon as safe conduct could be arranged. He must be protected. For the sake of the men here, they must not be allowed to harm him. But his transportation would be early afternoon at the latest.
Joseph had lain sleepless, knowing that Matthew was awake in the other bunk, but neither of them could think of anything more to suggest, so each sought sleep fitfully and with little success.
In the morning Matthew went out early without saying what he intended to do, and Joseph wrote two condolence letters left over from the previous day. He had just finished them when there was a brief rap on the lintel. Without waiting for a reply, Lizzie came down the steps.
She was hollow-eyed and bereft of color. His first thought was death—Stan Tidyman, who had lost his leg? Had the amputation been too much of a shock to a body already exhausted?
“Who is it?” he said, offering her his chair and moving to sit on the bunk.
“No one,” she replied, accepting the seat awkwardly, as if she would rather have remained standing. “That’s not why I’ve come.”
“What is it?” What else could have happened? He had not had time to tell her about Schenckendorff last night. She had been on duty and busy with the wounded.
In short, cutting words she told him, sparing herself no fact, however harsh. She did not once look up at him or offer any excuses or blame. It was simply an account of a sudden rape in which she was violated and left bruised in body and soul, hurting beyond anything she could have imagined, soiled forever. Something was damaged inside her that could never be repaired. And now she was carrying the man’s child, as if she had been fused with him in one terrible act, and a living person had been created so she could never forget. She had no idea who the rapist was. Still she did not look up or meet Joseph’s eyes.
“It happened before Schenckendorff ever came through the lines,” she finished in a flat, tight voice. “He could not have been the one. I need to tell Onslow that, so he doesn’t charge him and take him away.”
Joseph was so shattered that he felt as if he, too, had been attacked deep inside himself, scorched by filth he could never be rid of. He would rather they had done this to him than to her. He had no idea