by Emily James
I straightened into my most professional posture. “Yes, that’s what I suspect.”
“Did Darlene admit to having an affair?”
“I haven’t asked her yet.”
The lines in his forehead deepened until they were almost as thick as his glasses’ rims. “Do you have pictures of her in a compromising position with this man?”
I shook my head.
“Then you don’t know anything.” He pushed the photo back to me, slow and deliberate. “You made a guess, and you guessed wrong.”
In the five stages of grief described by Elisabeth Kubler Ross, denial was a natural first step. “I found a pill bottle in your house and—”
He held up his hand, reminding me eerily of the way one of my law professors used to stop students when they were in the middle of a wrong answer, like he didn’t have time for listening to foolish mistakes.
“I doubted Darlene once, when we were in high school. I saw her laughing with another guy on the football team and thought it was something more than it was. Instead of asking her, I acted impulsively and in anger. It hurt people.” He pushed his glasses up more securely on his face. They looked even smaller next to his meaty fingers. “That’s not something I’m willing to do again until I hear it from Darlene or you give me better evidence than a picture of a random man. That means I won’t agree to you putting her on the stand and trying to make her look guilty in front of everyone, either.”
Our whole defense at this point was built around his illness. Without proof of a motive, I couldn’t prove that Clement’s medications had been swapped. Without proof they’d been swapped, any competent prosecutor would argue he’d been faking his condition. As soon as that happened, any chance of an acquittal evaporated, and given the violent nature of the crime, Clement would go to prison for the rest of his life.
All to protect a woman who looked like she’d cheated on him and tried to kill him.
My dad liked to say that some clients lost their own cases. I hadn’t really understood what he meant until this moment. If Clement wasn’t such a large man, I would have been tempted to try to shake some sense into him.
I tucked my hair behind my ears. It was a self-soothing move, and I knew it, but hopefully Clement wouldn’t pick up on it. It helped me stay calm.
I had to make sure he understood the potential consequences without putting us even further at odds. He didn’t have to keep me as his lawyer. He could fire me.
And for reasons beyond wanting to see justice done, that thought twisted me up inside the same way I felt when I thought I might be audited for my taxes. I didn’t want to lose this case. This was my case to prove I could do this job. Losing because my client gave up felt like a bigger failure than losing because the prosecution out-argued me.
“I can’t win your case if we can’t point to who tried to kill you by switching out your meds,” I said softly.
I made sure not to say if we can’t point the finger at Darlene and she’s guilty, even though I wanted to. There was a chance I wouldn’t be able to find concrete enough evidence to convince Clement. He’d be more difficult to convince than a jury would. He needed more than reasonable doubt. He needed certainty.
“You can point to that person,” Clement said. “You just can’t point to Darlene.”
In a strange way, his loyalty reminded me of Mark. Even when Mark thought I was interested in someone else and didn’t want to be around him, he’d still made sure I was safe because he cared about me.
Clement pushed his glasses down again and rubbed the spot on his nose where they normally sat. “You’re not married yet so maybe you can’t understand this, but you have to believe in the person you’re spending your life with. You have to see their best qualities when no one else does, and you have to defend them when anyone tries to tear them down.”
He was right. I’d seen too many couples who cheated and lied. I’d been lied to myself in the relationship I’d had prior to Mark. Trust was something I was still learning, and loyalty was a quality I wanted people to think of when they thought of me. If Mark were ever accused of something horrible, I hoped I’d stand by him and defend his innocence even if no one else did.
Clement left me with only one choice—I had to prove beyond more than a reasonable doubt that Darlene had motive and had acted on it. Because now, I couldn’t stand to accuse her either until I was completely sure.
23
I didn’t have access to Darlene’s medical records and prescription history or the ones belonging to her mystery man, but I might be able to subpoena a list of their prescriptions if I could identify what was in Clement’s pill bottle. If either of them had a prescription that matched what Clement was being given, it should be proof enough even for Clement.
I broke the speed limit driving back to Fair Haven. Dr. Horton’s Pharmacy closed at 7:00 pm. If I had any hope of getting the records in time for Clement’s arraignment, I had to see Saul tonight.
The pharmacy door didn’t open when I tugged on it. I checked my watch. Five minutes to 7:00 pm. Saul must have started to close up early, but if he knew I was out here, surely he’d unlock the door and let me in.
I banged my fist against the glass and prayed that Saul was the one in today. It was my first time coming to the pharmacy since the day he was at his brother-in-law’s funeral. If Saul wasn’t the one in, the other pharmacist might make me come back tomorrow or tell me to hire a lab.
Telling me what pills were in the bottle was outside of their scope of practice, so I was basically asking a favor to figure out what these pills were more quickly than I could get results from a lab. All I needed was enough to get a subpoena before Clement’s court date. Then I would get an official lab report and contact an expert who could testify.
It might be enough to have his case dismissed. At the very least, it would ensure I could enter the results of the lab test and subpoena as evidence.
I wrapped my arms around my body for extra warmth. The streets were dark except for the haloes around the street lights. I pounded on the door again.
Saul rolled into view on the other side of the door. I waved frantically and pressed my hands together in the universal sign for please.
He maneuvered his chair like a car executing a three-point turn. He turned the door lock, and then moved his chair out of the way.
I hurried inside and stomped my feet. There wasn’t snow outside yet, but it seemed to warm up my toes as well.
“What’s wrong?” Saul pointed toward the door behind me. “Lock up please so we don’t get any extra guests.”
The mental debate in my head went back and forth between checking in on him to see how he was doing after his brother-in-law’s death and jumping straight to the point so that I didn’t use up any more of his time than was necessary. Sensitivity vs practicality.
My concern for him won out. “I need a favor, but first, how are you doing?”
He waved a hand in the air. “It’s a chapter of my life that’s finally closed, and I’m glad to have it behind me.” He turned his chair around and rolled over to the counter. “Did you have something urgent like antibiotics to pick up? I didn’t see anything come in with your name or Russ’ name on it. If your doctor wrote out a script instead of faxing it, I can still fill it now.”
The speed with which he switched topics made it clear his brother-in-law was a zone where we weren’t close enough for him to share. He’d shared what he had about his sister because I’d asked for his advice concerning Russ. That didn’t make us close enough for him to want to go into the complex emotions that surely surrounded his brother-in-law’s death. Some people wouldn’t even want to share that with those they were the closest to.
No problem. I could respect that.
“No script.” I pulled Clement’s pill bottle out of my purse. “I need to know what the pills are in this bottle.”
Saul rolled around the edge of the counter to where the computer sat. “Did the label peel off? I don’t even
have to look at the pills if that’s the case. I can pull up your name in the system. In fact, if you’re due for a refill anyway, I’ll just fill what you have on file. Or is this for Russ?”
That’s right. Because Saul wasn’t here when I came in, he didn’t realize I was working Clement’s case and had his permission to access his records. He’d naturally assume it was some problem with a prescription for me or for Russ.
I’d need to start from the beginning. “I’ve been retained by Clement Dodd as his defense counsel—thanks in part to your encouragement to fight for what I want to do.”
Buttering up a resource never hurt. I dug around in my purse and pulled out the folded copies of Clement’s permissions. I’d almost taken them out, but I’d been so busy that I’d left them there. Thankfully, since I didn’t want Saul to feel like I was asking him to do anything unethical.
I handed them over. He glanced at them, but it seemed almost perfunctory.
I set the pill bottle on the counter next to them. “I can’t go into detail about the case, but I need to know what the pills in this bottle are.” I held up both hands to stop any objections. “I won’t ask you to testify or anything like that. All I need is confirmation of my suspicions so that I can secure a subpoena for other information I need.”
Saul’s chair rolled backward a fraction, almost like his hands tightened on the wheels unintentionally.
“I’ll take a look,” Saul said.
His voice held a strange note—unnaturally normal like an actor in a low-budget soap opera.
Saul took the pill bottle and held it up slightly. “I’ll be right back.”
He placed the bottle in his lap and rolled backward around the island counter that sat in the middle of the restricted area. It was where he usually prepared prescriptions. Like the front counter, it was almost too high. The counter rested at mid-chest level.
He uncapped the bottle and poured the contents out into a plastic tray. He held the tray up and moved one of the pills around with a pair of tweezers, turning it upside down.
He placed the tray back down, wheeled back to the computer, and typed something into the keypad.
He shook his head. “I thought so, but I checked the code on the pills to be sure. Those are high cholesterol medication.”
I braced a hand against the counter. That couldn’t be right. They didn’t match Russ’ medications, and the labels said they were identical. “Can we compare them physically? From a supply bottle. Just to be certain.”
“They are what the label says they are.” His smile congealed on his face, like it’d been made in a mold and couldn’t quite hold its shape once it came out. “I assure you.”
A quiver started in my chest and fluttered down into my stomach. Something was very wrong here. I knew those weren’t high cholesterol meds. Maybe Saul was trying to cover it up because he thought he’d somehow made a mistake. A mistake in medications could get a pharmacist fired.
I leaned slightly to the side to get a better look at where Clement’s pill bottle and two pills sat. Something deep inside whispered that I shouldn’t have handed them over. He might throw them out to cover up a mistake he hadn’t actually made.
“I’m not saying you accidentally gave him the wrong medications. I know you had nothing to do with…” My voice caught slightly. “With this.”
My throat felt like I was trying to breathe through an opening no larger than a needle. Darlene wasn’t the only person who had access to Clement’s medications after they were prescribed. Saul could have swapped the medications out more easily than Darlene. He had access to whatever medication he would have wanted to swap it with, and he worked alone.
Clement’s fatal insomnia showed up in late spring. That would have been shortly after Saul returned from his failed surgery. If my suspicion was right, the surgery was the trigger.
No, not the surgery. The fact that it had failed. The fact that the back problems Saul had been fighting for years were never going to be fixed.
All the pieces fell into place and threatened the crush me like a rock slide. The picture in Clement’s house showing his high school football team—a team he’d played on with Saul. His story about his jealousy over some other man from the team he’d seen Darlene laughing with. The action he’d taken out of jealousy—multiple futures he’d said. His actions hurt people. Not just hurt his future with Darlene.
It was possible Clement had done something to Saul that caused his back injury, ending his dreams of a football career. Saul was willing to let it go until that same injury finally stole his ability to walk as well.
If I were right, I needed to get those pills back and get out of here.
I edged toward the end of the counter. “I’m sorry I bothered you and kept you late. I’ll grab the pills and be out of your way since they’re exactly what the bottle says.”
Saul wheeled in front of me so quickly he nearly took off my toes. I instinctively jumped back.
“I’ll dispose of them for you,” he said. “Medication shouldn’t be thrown in the garbage or flushed.”
My brain scrambled for something reasonable to say that wouldn’t make him any more suspicious. “That’d be wasteful. Clement can still take them.”
Saul didn’t move. “I can’t let you take them since they don’t belong to you.”
It was a lie. We both knew it. They’d been given to me by Clement—in a manner of speaking, anyway—and so I had every right to bring them back to Clement. Saul must be betting that I’d let it go, even if I did suspect something.
Pushing past a man in a wheelchair seemed wrong, but he wasn’t leaving me with much choice. I wasn’t leaving those pills behind. They were my only evidence, and Clement’s future depended on it.
I dodged to the side around Saul’s wheelchair and back behind the counter where he’d dumped the pills into the plastic tray. I grabbed for them, but they slipped out of my hand and skittered across the floor.
Crap!
“Don’t go after them, Nicole.”
Normally I wouldn’t have listened. It’s not like he could chase me down if I found them and ran. But a note in his voice—half command, half plea—made me stop and look up at him.
Saul had a gun pointed at me.
24
Stall him, the voice in my head—the one that sounded suspiciously like my mom and stayed calm even when I wanted to panic—said. Stall him and call for help.
But I couldn’t call for help. It’s not like Saul would let me pull out my phone and dial Chief McTavish anymore than he would let me pick up Clement’s pills and the bottle and walk out of here.
I might be able to text. I kept my upper arm still and wriggled my phone out of my pocket. My hands shook, making it harder than it should have been.
“Why would you bring a gun to work?” I tried to keep my voice innocent and naïve. I didn’t have to fake a wobble. It did that on its own. “I haven’t heard of any robberies in Fair Haven lately.”
Saul had the gun in his right hand, his elbow resting on the arm of his wheelchair and his left arm supporting the right to keep the gun straight and level at me. The man wasn’t taking any chances of missing if he fired.
“I think you’re smart enough to figure that out,” he said. “It seems like you’ve figured out other better-kept secrets.”
I lowered my gaze just enough to spot Chief McTavish’s name in my text contacts list. My shaking fingers missed his name and hit Mandy’s instead.
My throat closed. I’d have to spend too much time staring at my phone to back out of my messages to Mandy and select McTavish. Now I had to decide between risking that—and having Saul shoot me because he figured out I was sending a message for help—or risking sending a message to Mandy and having her not realize the urgency of it.
Meanwhile, Saul was staring at me, clearly waiting for my response. “It’s hard to think straight when there’s a gun pointed at me, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was to shoot someone.”
&
nbsp; Nice, Nicole. Get sarcastic with the man pointing a gun at you. My chances of getting out of this one alive didn’t seem great unless I could get a text sent for help immediately.
Saul gave a slow I’m-disappointed-in-you head shake.
Disappointment wasn’t an emotion I’d expected in this situation. The look on his face dug up the evil voice in my head that told me a disappointment was all I’d ever be. It’d picked a fine time to come back to life after I’d worked so hard to stab a stake through its heart and bury it.
I was panicking again and losing my focus. I could feel it. Now wasn’t the time to think about the ways I still fell short of the person I wanted to be. I had to do something. Maybe if I reminded him that we’d been—if not quite friends—amiable acquaintances.
“I’m sorry, Saul. That wasn’t kind of me, but I thought we liked each other and now you’re going to kill me.”
I moved my thumb onto the keypad on my screen and texted Help pharmacy gun to Mandy.
At least I hoped that was what I’d sent. I couldn’t afford to break eye contact with Saul now. Hopefully it’d make it more difficult for him to pull the trigger and kill me if he had to do it while looking me in the face. If he told me to close my eyes or turn around, he had another thing coming.
I also had to hope that message was enough for Mandy to call 911. I’d have been more confident if the name I’d hit by accident were Mark’s, but his, unfortunately for me, had been higher up because he was the person I texted most often. I hadn’t gone with him right away because I’d wanted to save time by texting Chief McTavish.
Saul’s upper body slumped slightly in his chair. “I’m not sure yet if I’m going to kill you or myself.” He moved his left hand off the gun and wiped his forehead. He brought his hand right back into place. “I bought this gun before my surgery. I wanted a quick way out if things went badly, and at the time, I didn’t want to take the risk of stealing something from work to use in case I ended up not needing it. But then when they told me I’d never walk again and the pain would continue to get worse for the rest of my life…”
