The Death of Distant Stars, A Legal Thriller

by Deborah Hawkins

  Hugh refused to make eye contact with her, and Mark noticed her big brown eyes became stormy. He had been through enough of these affairs to tell when Hugh was ready to wind it down. Patty had had the good sense to accept the message, but Logan was making the mistake of fighting it. She should have realized Hugh held all the cards.

  Logan flounced down on the empty chair and looked over at Patty, whose dark eyes remained expressionless. She’d get no sympathy in that quarter, Mark thought.

  “So tell us what you’ve discovered in Wycliffe’s documents,” Hugh said, still without meeting her angry eyes.

  Logan made a great show of powering up her laptop and opening a file. She studied her notes with a perfect pout that was too obviously for Hugh’s consumption. Logan is overplaying her hand, Mark thought.

  “The paralegals and I have been through the ediscovery and the paper copies that Wycliffe handed over. There are huge chronological gaps in the clinical trial information. Wycliffe pulled out almost all their documentation about the trials they conducted while they were trying to get FDA approval. Rick thinks they were getting adverse results that would have prevented approval of the drug.”

  “Those bastards at King and White!” Hugh thundered, this time, banging his fist on his desk. “Who do they think we are that they can behave this way? Get busy drafting a Motion to Compel Discovery, Logan. And call the judge’s clerk and get us on the calendar as quickly as possible! Patty, be sure to tell Kathryn as soon as you’ve confirmed a court date.”

  “Will I be arguing this one?” Mark asked.

  “No, I want the pleasure of burying Bob McLaren, myself.”

  * * *

  Friday, May 9, 2014, Office of the Public Defender, 450 B Street, San Diego

  Kathryn’s cell phone began to ring at exactly five o’clock as she was heading for her car, looking forward to the weekend. Caller ID identified Paul, and she considered not answering. It had been exactly four weeks since she’d seen Shannon’s car in his drive. He had called and texted her numerous times, but she’d either ignored him or sent excuses.

  But now the weekend loomed ahead, lonely and empty with no one to talk to about the bad news from Patty: Wycliffe was refusing to play fair in discovery. Civil litigation was Paul’s world. He could tell her how much she should worry about this new development. So, in a moment of weakness, she pressed the answer button.

  “Thank God! I was beginning to worry about you. Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

  Because on a night when I really needed you, I saw Shannon’s Corvette in your driveway, she wanted to say. But didn’t. “I’ve been busy. I’ve been in trial for the past two weeks.”

  “Is it over?”

  “Yep. Today. Verdict for the prosecution. My client is going away for life.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m not. He killed two people. I’m just glad it’s over.”

  “Then come for dinner tonight. I’ve missed you.”

  * * *

  Against her better judgment, she decided to go. Paul met her at the door with a hug and what would have been a kiss had she not turned her head and pulled away.

  He looked hurt but said nothing as he led the way to the kitchen. “I’ve cheated and gotten carry-out lasagna from Il Fornaio. You know the awful truth: I’m a rotten cook. I’m hoping this very expensive Chianti makes up for it.”

  She sipped wine while Paul served the food and carried the plates out to the deck.

  At seven-thirty, the sun was just setting, leaving delicate trails of gold and orange streaming across the sapphire waters of the bay. Kathryn sat down in one of the two chairs and studied the San Diego skyline in the twilight. Her eye went almost at once to the Emerald Shapery Center, ablaze with the last fire of the sun, and she wondered if Mark Kelly or Patty or Logan or even Hugh himself were there, trying to find out the truth of what Wycliffe had done to Tom.

  “You seem worried.”

  “Patty Fox called me earlier this week. They are going to have to go back to court to make Wycliffe turn over things they apparently are hiding.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “The data from the clinical trials, pre-FDA approval.”

  “Wow! So Bob McLaren thought he could get away with that! He’s not always on the side of the angels. He can be sleazy.”

  “Will he get away with this?”

  “No way. Judge Weiner is no-nonsense about discovery. She’ll go through the roof. Maybe even impose sanctions. When is the hearing?”

  “Monday the nineteenth, in the morning.”

  “I’d go, if I were you. There’ll be fireworks for sure. In fact, I’d go if I were going to be in town.”

  Kathryn was comforted by his open optimism, but the Corvette in the drive still haunted her.

  Paul ate thoughtfully for a while and then said, “The discovery problem isn’t the only thing on your mind. Are you upset because I told you I had run into Shannon a few times? Look, Kathryn, Shannon is harmless–”

  “No, she isn’t!” She slammed her hand down hard on the glass table making all the dishes rattle.

  Paul sat back in his chair and studied her face in the deepening twilight. Finally he said, “Tell me why she isn’t harmless.”

  “Because after dinner at Hugh’s, I was upset.”

  “What upset you?”

  “Talking about Tom. Talking about having my deposition taken. Talking about having to say out loud that Tom is dead.”

  Paul reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. He looked surprised. “Wow. I must have done something unforgivable.”

  “You have.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Then I can’t apologize. And I want to apologize. I wouldn’t do anything in the world to hurt you.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  He looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “It would help if I had some idea of what you are talking about.”

  “After dinner that night at Hugh’s, I was upset. He dismissed his wife on cue after the meal and took me to his study to tell me private details about his life.”

  “Such as?”

  “His father was screwed over by The Ford Motor Company and finished off by Our Sisters’ of Charity Hospitals; but his family was too poor to hire a lawyer, so Hugh vowed one day to get his revenge on Big Business.”

  “So that’s why he became such a fierce plaintiff’s attorney. Why did that story upset you?”

  “Because he wanted me to feel close to him, so I would talk about me and Tom. He wanted me to like him.”

  “And did you like him?”

  “Mixed feelings. But the whole evening, after his wife went to bed, had a distinctly personal overtone that made me feel uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Hugh is a womanizer, but he limits himself to the young associates at his firm. He’s never been known to hit on a client.”

  “I’m not saying he wanted to hit on me. It did feel like a little bit like that, but I think it was more about changing my opinion of him. He said he wanted to tell me his personal history because he was asking me to tell him about mine with Tom. He was trying to level the playing field to make me comfortable telling him the details of my marriage. He talked for a long time. When I left, I was upset, and I wanted to talk to you.”

  A funny look came over his face as he finished the last of his lasagna. “Did you call?”

  “No. I just drove straight here.”

  Now he looked uncomfortable. “What time did you come by?”

  “Between one and one-thirty. I saw her car in the drive.”

  He got up and came over to her and tried to pull her to her feet and take her in his arms, but she resisted and remained seated. “Don’t touch me.”

  Defeated, he went back and sat down. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me explain?”

  “I’ll listen. I won’t promise to believe you.�
��

  “I got home from work around ten that night and found Shannon waiting in the drive. She was upset and lonely and had come looking for someone to talk to. I asked her in because I didn’t want to be alone. I was upset because I was supposed to have Jodie that weekend, and Carolyn had refused to bring her. I hadn’t had anything to eat, and Shannon was hungry, too; so I made a couple of omelettes. We wound up talking and drinking too much wine, and all I can say is I wish it hadn’t happened.”

  “But it did.”

  * * *

  December 2009, 1845 Ocean Place, Pacific Beach

  Kathryn didn’t feel like a Christmas party that year. The tradition had started in their second year of marriage, when they’d been proud of the work they’d done on their house and wanted to show it off. Now all their friends expected an invitation for the second Saturday evening in December. They had colleagues from the public defender’s office, and Paul and his wife and a few Big-Firm types who had been law school classmates, and a handful of Tom’s surfer friends, most of whom Kathryn barely knew.

  It was a lot of work to get the house cleaned, the Christmas tree up, and food either purchased or made. At least after more than ten years in the public defender’s office, they could afford something better than trays of Costco frozen quiches.

  The house was always stuffed to the gills with guests. They spilled onto the front and back lawns, drinking and laughing so loudly that the neighbors would have complained in any neighborhood other than Pacific Beach. But here parties were a daily occurrence. So the Andrews party fit right in. And, besides, Kathryn made sure to invite her neighbors, just in case any of them had thought of going to bed.

  She had steeled herself for Shannon’s entrance. She came an hour after Steve arrived because her bartending shift at the PB Saloon did not end until eight. Kathryn watched her circulate through the guests, eventually taking up residence in the dining room where Tom and Steve were picking off hors d’oeuvres and drinking beer.

  Kathryn nursed a glass of red wine slowly in the living room, standing in the circle that Paul’s Warrick, Thompson friends had formed around him and Carolyn. She tried to concentrate on Big Firm gossip about lawyers she didn’t know and cases she didn’t know, but her eyes kept straying to Shannon, beer in hand, one arm draped loosely over Steve’s shoulder, but her eyes fixed solidly on Tom. She was the picture of confidence.

  “Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Carolyn said.

  Kathryn tried to hide her embarrassment at being caught watching the three of them. “Yes.”

  “I’m glad Steve has finally found someone. Paul never thought he would.”

  How could she not see that Shannon’s attention was fixed on Tom, not Steve, Kathryn wondered. But she would sound paranoid if she said anything. “They’ve only been together a few months.”

  “That’s true.” Carolyn cocked her head to one side as if to get a better view of the dining room. “Paul said this one feels different to him. And I agree. The two of them just have that air of belonging together. I’m going to predict this is going to work out.”

  * * *

  Cancun was cheap in December, so they went for Christmas and stayed until New Year’s. Kathryn knew that Tom had asked Steve and Shannon to come, too; and it would not have been the first time Steve and a girlfriend traveled with them. But to her great relief, Shannon begged off, saying she wanted to spend her first Christmas with Steve alone. Ever since the Christmas party, Kathryn had been sternly reminding herself that Carolyn had seen nothing out of place between Tom and Shannon. She decided her own eagerness to have a baby was making her imagine things.

  But when they came back, Tom’s morning surfing trips began to grate on her again. The glow of love-making during their week-long holiday had vanished. On the morning in January when the window of fertility was open for those few precious hours, Tom left her to surf. She wondered obsessively if he was out alone with Shannon. That night at bedtime she went into the room that was to have been their nursery but had become an office that they shared. Tom had been working at his desk. He was preparing for a trial scheduled to begin in the morning.

  “What’s up?” He smiled and rubbed his tired eyes.

  “I was hoping you’re ready for bed.”

  “Not quite yet. I haven’t finished my opening statement.”

  “Couldn’t you do that in the morning?”

  “I’m going surfing in the morning.”

  “Before trial?” He normally went straight to the office when he was in trial.

  “I think it will clear my head.”

  Her gut told her he wanted to see Shannon, but she had nothing to gain by calling him on it. She sat down on the chair next to the desk and tried to find the words she wanted.

  But he broke the silence first. “You’re going to bring up the fertility stuff, aren’t you?”

  “We’ve stopped trying. And you gave away the baby’s surfboard.”

  He sighed and took her hand. “It made me too sad whenever I looked at it. I’ve gotten used to things the way they are. Just you and me. We’ve tried so long to have a child that I’m worn out with trying. Sex isn’t fun anymore. It’s just mechanics when hormones and the calendar demand it.”

  “Is that why you’ve stopped making love to me?”

  “But I haven’t. When we were in Cancun–”

  “But that was the first time in months.”

  “It was different there. No pressure. No deadlines.”

  Kathryn took a deep breath. “I want to try in vitro.”

  He frowned. “But that’s horribly expensive. And the hormones will make you miserable. You know what it did to Leslie Hopkins. She took so many sick days she lost out on promotion to Senior Deputy PD.

  “But she and Bill now have twin boys. If you ask her, she’ll tell you it was all worth it.”

  “I gather you have asked her?”

  “Yes. And I have the names of her doctors.”

  Tom sighed. “If we’d gotten pregnant three years ago, I’d have been happy about it. But now, to be honest, I don’t want children any more. We’re happy together. I don’t want to rock the boat.”

  She wanted to ask him if Shannon was the reason he no longer wanted a child. But she had nothing to go on except the unconfirmed suspicions that tormented her daily.

  She felt Tom studying her face. He reached out and pulled her onto his lap and held her close. “I can’t stand to make you unhappy. We’ll try in vitro if that’s what you want.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Friday, May 9, 2014, 817 First Street, Coronado, California

  The rest of the evening had been awkward with the two of them trying desperately to avoid the subject of Shannon. At ten o’clock, Kathryn made her excuses and headed home.

  As she drove onto the graceful arc of the Bay Bridge, she felt the first tears behind her eyes and struggled to hold them back. She didn’t want to cry. But at that moment the uncertainty of everything overwhelmed her. What if the unthinkable happened, and Hugh lost the motion to make them hand over all the clinical trial data?

  And what if Shannon was now coming between her and Paul the way she’d– But Kathryn stopped herself in mid-thought. Shannon had not come between her and Tom. Or had she? Paul had said “faintest crack in your marriage.” Was Shannon more than a “faint crack”? Had she been a split so wide and so deep that even if Myrabin had not taken Tom from her, Shannon would have? Would Kathryn inevitably have been overwhelmed with grief and trapped in the nightmare of Tom’s loss? Was Shannon, and not Myrabin, the real reason her life was now nothing more than an empty shell?

  Wycliffe would want to know about Shannon. She racked her brain to figure out who could give that secret away. Carolyn knew Shannon had flirted with Tom, but nothing more. Paul, likewise, knew only that there had been a flirtation. And, besides, Paul had dubbed Shannon harmless. Wycliffe would never get Shannon’s name from either of them.

  No, she decided, there was no one to tip off Wycliffe ab
out Shannon. And besides, she was probably overreacting. Tom’s warmth and charm had drawn everyone to him, especially lost, lonely women. He was kind, so he listened. He was the shoulder to cry on. But his compassion was one of the qualities that she had loved most, and so she had accepted his desire to help others, whether women or men, without complaint. Except for his friendship with Shannon. During all the years of their marriage, that relationship had been the only one that had left her questioning his motives. But Tom had told her repeatedly that she’d been wrong about his relationship with Shannon, she reminded herself.

  She had known why Hugh had taken her aside at Crown Manor and told her personal stories. He’d been trying to inspire her to tell her most closely guarded secret: her fears about Tom and Shannon. But she wasn’t going to tell Hugh because now she realized her fears had been baseless. She’d transformed her disappointment over failing to conceive into an imagined affair between Shannon and her husband. But no affair had ever existed.

  She had reached the graceful center arch of the bridge when she glanced in her rear- view mirror and realized a black Suburban was closing in fast. She was in the outside lane, the one closest to the edge of the bridge. If forced too far to the right, she would plunge over the side and into the bay.

  She sped up but the Suburban continued to close the distance between them, bearing down on the rear of her little car. Her heart beat faster, and she shifted to the middle lane to give the big black car a clear field to speed past her. Obviously, the driver was drunk. The answer was to get out of his way.

  But instead of passing her in the open space she had created, the Suburban moved to the left, going behind her car and weaving into the third lane, menacing her bumper on the driver’s side. Her heart raced faster. The car’s swerving back and forth between lanes began to seem intentional.

  And then she felt a jolt. She looked into her rear view mirror and saw the Suburban swerve back into its lane, speed up, and start toward her again just as it drew next to her door on the driver’s side. It was coming right at her. This was intentional.