by Robin James
“I’m sorry,” Aubrey whispered, pulling me out of my own head.
My hands were still shaking. I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. The nightmares of that last blustery day on Lake Michigan were already starting to take shape. Would I ever truly feel safe again?
I sat down on the coffee table in front of her. There was something hanging in the air around her. The answer to a question I knew better than to ask. But as I sat there, still shaken from the trauma of shouted death threats and hurled rocks, my better judgment seemed to drift away.
“You went in there and told the cops you killed Coach Drazdowski?”
She didn’t look like a killer. She looked like a victim.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Tough shit,” I said. “You apparently had no problems talking about it an hour ago.”
She buried her face in her hands. God help me, I was either going to shake some sense into this girl or pull her into a hug.
“I did what I had to do,” she answered. She raised her chin and met my eyes. She looked like a little girl, her lashes wet with tears. Her lips were almost purple, her face blotchy and red.
“That night in the park or today?”
Aubrey lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. Both, I guess. I just can’t anymore today. I can’t think. I can’t talk. I just want to go home.”
“Great. And what exactly do you expect me to do with all of this? Do you even want my help anymore?”
“Yes!” Aubrey found her voice. Her eyes widened with desperation.
“Yes,” she said more softly. “Cass, I need you. Please keep helping me.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Then what was today about? Huh? Did someone put you up to this? You waived your right to have your attorney present. I’m sorry, Aubrey. I can’t fix this. You just confessed to murder.”
“They charged me with first degree. You said they’d have to prove premeditation. You said the other thing was better. Second degree. Can you get me a deal?”
I slowly rose. One minute, this girl was scared and vulnerable. The next, she was spouting sophisticated legal strategy. Did I have it all wrong? Was Aubrey Ames far more calculating than I gave her credit for? Than Larry Drazdowski gave her credit for?
“You want a deal. Great, Aubrey. Just, great.”
“Second degree you said there’s a possibility of parole.”
“In twenty years maybe! I just can’t even. I need some air.”
“I did what I had to do. You don’t have to believe me.”
“A jury has to believe you!” I shouted.
“But now I don’t have to testify. I’ve said everything I want to say. I just want this to be over.”
I resisted the urge to tell her so did I. My gut told me this girl was lying about something. Maybe everything. I just couldn’t figure out what.
“Cass!” Joe’s shout startled me. At the same time I heard it, tires crunched on my gravel driveway.
“Wait here,” I said. Then I ran upstairs to my bedroom. I kept a loaded .38 in a holster attached to my bed frame. I took it out and went out on the second-floor deck.
“Where is she?” The car door slammed as Matty threw his pole on the dock and ran up to join Joe.
I kept the gun to my side; my heartbeat hammered in my brain. Then the owner of the vehicle stepped into view. Dan Ames was red-faced and moving fast toward the house.
“Aubrey!” he shouted. Joe got to him and put two strong hands on Dan Ames’s shoulders, shoving backward.
“You just hang on,” he said. “You’re not barging into my sister’s house.”
“I goddamn am if my daughter’s in there! They told me she left with you three in a hurry. She didn’t come home, she didn’t go to Cass’s office. And here you are.”
“I’m here,” Aubrey said, coming out the side door. I left the porch and went back through the bedroom, leaving my gun on the dresser. Flying down the stairs I met Aubrey on the back porch.
“Everything all right?” I asked. Dan Ames shook with rage. He curled and uncurled his fists, ready to punch something. At the moment, Joe seemed his most likely target.
“What the hell’s going on?” he demanded. “I heard some crazy-ass rumors flying around town. And Aubrey’s face is all over the news and online. Did you do it? They’re saying you …”
“Hold on,” I said. “Let’s just all calm down. Aubrey’s okay. I’m okay.”
I might as well have been invisible. Dan Ames charged the porch. Joe followed at his side, ready to shove him back again if needed. Dan put his hands on Aubrey’s shoulders and shook her gently the same way I wanted to just a few minutes ago.
“What the hell are you doing?” His voice broke. “Is it true? Is what they’re saying true? You told them you did this? That you killed that ... that …” His eyes darted to mine. Some of the color drained from Dan’s face as he tried to compose himself.
“Are you behind this?” he asked me.
“Am I what?”
“Daddy, stop it,” Aubrey said. “Nobody’s behind anything. I just want to go home. Can I do that? Will they take me to jail now?” She turned to me.
“Not directly,” I said through a great sigh. “That is, your bail conditions shouldn’t change after this. But …”
“But, that’s enough for now,” Dan finished my sentence. “I can take my daughter home. That’s all I’m interested in hearing right now.”
“You?” I said, stepping off the porch. Dan was starting to remind me of Tim Bowman. “It’s your daughter who needs to make some decisions.”
“I have,” Aubrey said. “I told you. I did what I had to do.”
“Enough,” I said. “Don’t say another word. Not in front of my brothers. Not in front of your father. You’ve said more than enough for one day, Aubrey.”
“You’ll still help me?” Aubrey’s voice was desperate, breaking on the last syllable.
I wanted to say a million things. Are you kidding me? Are you crazy? There’s no help for any of this. But I wasn’t sure which was true at the moment. Dan Ames threw an arm around his daughter and steered her toward his car. He threw a hostile glance at Joe. It seemed like they understood something with just that one look. My brother Joe was a father too. Joe put his hands up and backed off a few steps to let Dan and Aubrey by.
“Cass?” Aubrey said as Dan opened the passenger door for her.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I said. “I need to ... I need to think about it.”
“Let’s go,” Dan said. Aubrey slid into the passenger seat. He climbed behind the wheel and slammed the car into reverse, kicking up more gravel along the way.
“What an asshole,” Matty said. He stood in a ready stance, his fists curled at his sides.
“I don’t know,” Joe said. “I don’t know what I’d be thinking or feeling in his shoes.”
“Did she really confess?” Matty asked. “It looks bad, Cass.”
“Tell me about it.” I crossed my arms in front of me. I craved that bottle of wine chilling in my fridge. As soon as Matty went home, I had a date with it.
“What are you going to do?” Joe asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean ... you can’t possibly still be thinking about representing her. After what happened today?”
I deflated. The adrenaline of the last hour sluiced off me. The weight of my exhaustion hit me. I sat down on the edge the porch and dangled my feet. A couple of power boats whizzed by, pulling skiers. Laughter filled the air. I, on the other hand, felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.
Joe didn’t press. He saw the look on my face. Instead, my brothers traded insults as they made their way back to Matty’s truck. I hugged each one of them. It felt good. It felt normal. Matty had a hard time with me being here. In this house. We might have our differences between us, but when someone came after any one of us ... hell was going to break loose.
Matty choked up a bit as I kissed him. “You come after one,
you get us all,” Matty said, giving voice to my thoughts.
“Yep,” I said. “And you know I have your back. Always. Doesn’t mean you’re not going to get my foot up it when you need it. This is my house. But you know it’s yours too. Don’t forget that. And don’t stay away because of stupid shit.”
Matty climbed in the truck. Joe held back. “You sure you’re okay?”
I nodded up at him and slid my hands into my back pockets. “I will be. Just need some wine. I didn’t want …”
“Gotcha,” he said. “I might swing back later this evening to stick a pole back in the water. Save me a beer or two.”
“You got it.” I also knew he was full of shit. If Joe came back tonight, it wouldn’t be about the fish. He was worried about me.
“I just wish …” I couldn’t finish the sentence. As harrowing as the afternoon had been, my brothers and I had reached a level of peace and normalcy. At least for us. There was just something ... someone missing.
“I miss her today too,” Joe said. “Vangie’s always better at keeping Matty’s shit together than we are. Plus, she’s a better brawler than he is. She’d have drawn some blood today.”
I burst out laughing. He was right. More than once, Joe had to drag Vangie off some hapless bully who tried to mess with Matty on the way to school. I hugged Joe again and it eased some of the ache in my heart. Vangie should be here today.
“I’ll see you later tonight,” I said. Joe gave me a wave and slid into the back seat of Matty’s truck.
Chapter 11
Miranda was waiting for me with another thick envelope in her hand. “LaForge’s office just dropped this off,” she said. “And you shouldn’t be driving into town by yourself. Those videos from the police station were scary, Cass. They were trying to hurt you.”
“Thanks,” I said. I took the envelope from her and felt the outline of its contents. It was a DVD. My heart sank. Part of me was hoping the last twenty-four hours was a dream. That my most high-profile client hadn’t just confessed to murder outside my presence.
“Already hooked up the cords in the conference room,” she said. “Figured you’d want to run that from your laptop to the big screen. Nobody’s coming in today. Your ten o’clock and your two thirty canceled.”
“Rescheduled?” My morning appointment was a potential new client. A divorce case and the guy had money. Finally. My later appointment was with a new court appointment.
“Canceled,” Miranda said, her expression grim. “I’m sorry, honey. Word’s getting out about the Ames girl. Up until yesterday, I don’t know. I think some folks were keeping an open mind. That’s gone. It’s making you radioactive.”
“Just great. What, do they think I stuck that knife in Coach D?”
“Next worst thing,” Miranda shrugged. “I’ve gotta love-hate relationship with this town.”
“So do I. Thanks for thinking of me. I’ll be in the conference room.” Miranda gave me a motherly pat on the back as I moved past her.
I went to the conference room, clicked the remote and held my breath. The police camera produced a grainy, poorly lit image, like always. For the first few seconds, there was no sound as Detective Bowman adjusted the angle and pushed a microphone in front of Aubrey’s face.
“God. She looks scared to death,” I whispered.
She’d worn a gray hooded sweatshirt yesterday and her thin fingers disappeared into the sleeves. She started talking but too softly for the mics to pick it up.
“Speak up.” Bowman almost shouted it. There was mumbling beside him and the back of Detective Megan Lewis’s head came into view. Bowman cleared his throat and sat back down. His posture shifted and I could pretty much guess what Lewis might have said to him. Back off, she’s already given us what we need.
“Can you state your name and the date and time?” Lewis asked, her voice calm, almost soothing.
“Aubrey Ann Ames. It’s July 10th.”
“And why are you here today?” Lewis prompted. When Bowman leaned forward, Lewis put a hand up, gesturing for him to be still.
“I have a lawyer,” Aubrey said. “But I don’t want her here today. I ... uh ... I waive my rights to have her be here. I’m doing this on my own.”
Of course they would have made that clear. My blood boiled, but Aubrey was straight up digging her own grave.
“I just had to get this out. I did it. I killed Coach D.”
“You’ll have to be a little more specific,” Bowman said.
“I didn’t ... don’t I …” Aubrey shifted in her seat. She was crying. She put her head down, resting it on her arm. I peered closer, trying to look in her eyes. The video quality just wasn’t good enough to read them.
“I killed him. I stabbed him. On June 22nd in Shamrock Park.”
“What happened, Aubrey?” Megan Lewis asked.
Miranda came into the conference room bearing two steaming mugs of coffee.
“I went there, okay?” Aubrey’s voice shook. “I asked him to meet me there. We talked. He made me mad. Really mad. I didn’t plan it. I just wanted to talk. But I got angry. Really heated. I don’t know what happened. I just snapped.”
“Geez Louise,” Miranda said.
“What did you talk about? What made you snap?” Bowman picked up the questioning.
“Forget it!” Aubrey was openly sobbing. She wiped her eyes with her oversized sleeves. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I just did it, okay? I confess. That’s everything you need to know. I just want this over. Can it be over?”
“Aubrey …” Lewis started again.
“No! That’s it. That’s all I have to say. I went to the park. I got mad. I snapped. I have a knife. You know ... for self-defense.”
“Was the coach threatening you?” Megan Lewis was clearly as baffled as I was watching this.
“He wasn’t. I don’t know ... maybe. I was just mad. Really mad. I snapped. I stabbed him. I’m done now. I need to go now. Can I go now?”
It went on like that for another five minutes. Over and over, Aubrey kept saying she snapped. She stabbed the coach. Toward the end of the video, Megan slid a notepad in front of her. Aubrey picked up a pen and wrote the statement I’d been handed just a few minutes afterward.
Someone came to the door behind Megan’s head. The voices grew muffled but I could make out enough. “Her lawyer’s here now. You’re going to want to wrap this up.”
Then that was it. The recording stopped. Eight minutes and thirteen seconds of complete what-the-fuckery.
I sat for a moment, dumbfounded. Miranda slowly raised her coffee mug to her lips. “Well,” she said. “What’d you think, boss?”
I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Felt like she spent some time googling before she walked into that police station. She snapped. She didn’t plan it.”
“Right. Of course I covered the different types of murder with her. But yeah ... I think so too. And I think a few other things too.”
“So do I. You go first.”
I stood up and started to pace. Somehow, I always thought better when moving. “She keeps saying she wants this to be over. She’s scared of something and I can’t put my finger on it. It’s more than just jail time.”
“Do you really think she did it?” Miranda asked.
My answer hit me like a lightning bolt to the chest. I knew I was right. I just had no idea how I was going to prove it yet.
“No. Dammit. No. But I think she knows who really did kill Coach D. I think she’s covering for someone.”
Miranda’s slow smile made deep lines at the corners of her eyes. “That’s what I think too. And I think you have an idea who.”
Chapter 12
The easiest thing to do was walk away. Aubrey wasn’t interested in her own defense. She was lying to me. I believed in my heart she was lying to the cops too but I was nowhere on proving any of it.
I had the Drazdowski murder’s meager case file spread out o
n the conference room table. Most damning of course, was Aubrey’s own half-assed confession. If I took that out of the equation (laughable, I know), I could have built something.
There was no murder weapon. There were strands of Aubrey’s hair on Coach D’s shirt but that alone wasn’t damning. Her cell phone records were. She was the last known person to see him alive and her texts to him were ominous. Threatening even.
But I could have knocked those down.
Aubrey was a scared, possibly troubled kid. Coach D had a reputation for counseling students in trouble. Even ones he’d never coached.
Then there was the murder itself. The full autopsy report had come in the morning of Aubrey’s ridiculous confession. Coach D was stabbed exactly once with a four-inch blade. The coroner’s specs matched the kind of hunting knife that half the men in this town probably carried. The killing wound had been delivered forcefully by someone with at least a passing knowledge of human anatomy or unbelievable luck.
Coach D hadn’t expected it. There were no defensive wounds. His killer had attacked him face to face. Instinct told me he probably knew him or her. Then again, just like me, the coach knew just about everyone in town.
“What are you doing, Aubrey?” I whispered as I hovered over the most disturbing crime scene photo. It would be the “money” shot if this case ever saw a jury. It was taken about two feet above the body, head on. Coach D’s lifeless eyes seemed to stare straight into the camera, filled with shock. One look at that picture and anyone would understand that Larry Drazdowski knew exactly what was happening to him and felt every second of agony as he left this world.
“Jack’s calling again,” Miranda said, poking her nose into the conference room.
“I gotta admit, I’m a little shocked he’s still trying. I figured he’d be waiting for me to crawl into his office on my hands and knees.”
“Maybe you should take it.”
