Scott kept eating his eggs and bacon. He wasn’t sure what he felt, but the breakfast was very good.
When they finished eating, Scott used his miracle green soap to clean the pots and pans. While he was crouching down at the edge of the water, two fishermen walked into the clearing. Nicky barked until Scott told him to be quiet. Kay was inside her tent. The men nodded to Scott and went upstream to the large pool. They cast lines across the pool and in a few minutes deposited three fish in their creels. They moved up to the smaller pool beneath the waterfall, and after each losing a lure, they left the clearing. Scott’s best fish was safe for another day.
Nicky ran over to the door of Kay’s tent and scratched until she zipped it open, and he hopped inside. Scott’s frustration was past, and he laughed at the little dog’s success. In a few minutes, they emerged. Kay was wearing a sky-blue T-shirt with a picture of a hummingbird on the front and a pair of old gray shorts.
“When will it warm up?” she asked, rubbing her arms.
Scott looked up at the sky. The sun was gaining momentum in its upward journey.
“Soon. It’s going to be a clear day. Can you get those clothes wet?”
“Why? Are you going to throw me in the water?”
“No, I’m thinking ahead to the day’s activities.”
“Should I put on a bathing suit?”
“Yes, underneath your clothes.”
Kay disappeared for a minute before reemerging. “Okay, I’m ready for anything.”
“Let’s go.”
The top flap of Scott’s backpack could be detached and used as a fanny pack. Carrying a couple of bottles of water, a few granola bars, and the camera, they took a trail that climbed steeply away from the stream, crossed a ridge, then descended back down to a place where the water rushed thirty feet down a rockface into a deep pool.
“Behold sliding rock,” Scott announced grandly.
“How deep is the water at the bottom?”
“Deep enough. The danger is at the top. I’ve come here with friends after we’ve had too many beers and had problems getting off to a good start. It’s not much fun going down backwards when you can’t position yourself to miss that boulder on the side.” He pointed to a large rock on the far side of the smooth surface.
“Ouch.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you how to do it without danger.”
Scott was wearing an old pair of cutoff jeans. He took off his shoes, socks, and shirt. He carefully walked into the stream until he was almost to the middle. Sitting down he scooted forward.
“This is the ideal beginning point!” he shouted.
He pushed himself forward then slid rapidly down the face of the rock into the pool. He disappeared for a second, then stood to his feet.
The water came up to the middle of his chest. He shook the water from his hair and smiled. Nicky barked excitedly from the bank.
“It’s brisk!”
“Are you going to do it again?” Kay asked.
Scott looked puzzled. “Anyone who takes the trouble to find this place stays until they wear a hole in their blue jeans.”
He walked to the bank. There were some moss-covered rocks that made getting out less treacherous than expected. He walked up the trail to the top and repeated his slide to the bottom.
“Ready?” he asked when he reached the bank the second time.
“I guess.”
Kay followed him up the path. He held her hand and guided her to the takeoff spot. It appeared higher getting ready to go down than looking up. She nervously got in position, and he gave her a gentle push. The ride was a blur, but the shock of the water at the bottom was unforgettable.
She came up screaming.
“It’s freezing!”
“Only for a second!” Scott called out. “Move over, I’m coming down.”
Scott lay down on his stomach and went down face first into the water.
“Don’t expect me to do that,” Kay said when they were standing on the bank.
“No pressure. But I bet you’re hooked.”
“Maybe a few more times.”
They didn’t stay until Scott wore a hole in his shorts, but Kay lost track of the times she zipped down the rockface and splashed into the pool. They took half a roll of pictures. When they finished, they sat on a sunny rock eating granola bars.
They returned over the hill to their campsite. Scott looked at the sky.
“It’s time to start back.”
Kay cleared out her tent, and Scott efficiently broke camp. He was intent on his task and didn’t notice the way Kay watched him. When he finished, they put on their backpacks and retraced their steps up the trail.
Scott took the lead when the trail was narrow. They walked side by side when it broadened. Nicky, now used to the exotic smells, plodded along without bothering to use his energy exploring. The last leg of the hike was downhill, and they covered it in half the time it took them to hike up the previous day.
“Downhill is better,” Kay remarked.
“I always like a trip where the last stretch is the easiest.”
They returned to the parking lot where Scott took another photograph.
“I take a posthike shot to make sure I didn’t lose anyone.”
On the ride back to Catawba, Kay talked and talked for the first hour.
She had a lot of questions about other places Scott had visited in the mountains. After they left the winding roads, her eyelids grew heavy, and she fell asleep. They were nearing Catawba when she woke up.
“Are we almost home?” she asked.
“Yes. It won’t be long.”
Kay closed her eyes in contentment. “Hot water!”
38
You know my methods,Watson.
SHERLOCK HOLMES
Monday morning Scott wrote the available background information about cousin Kendall on two lines at the top of a legal pad: “Kendall - cousin of Lester Garrison - from South Carolina - in Blanchard County on the date of the incident at Hall’s Chapel Church - dark hair.”
Scott assumed Kendall’s last name might be Garrison. He did an Internet search for any Kendall Garrisons in South Carolina and came up empty. He then wondered if the name was spelled differently. He typed in Kendell Garrison and scored two hits, both in the Orangeburg, South Carolina, area. Locating the phone number for one of them, he dialed it. A lady with a distinct African-American accent answered the phone.
“I’m trying to locate Kendell Garrison,” Scott said.
“Both junior and senior are at work. Do you want to leave a message?”
“No, ma’am. Thank you.”
Scott hung up. The Kendell Garrisons of Orangeburg, South Carolina, didn’t fit the profile. Lester’s cousin had dark hair, not a dark face.
Scott tried other more unusual spellings without success. He was about to give up when he had an idea. He looked at the clock. Lester was still at school. Hopefully, Harold was out on the road. Scott dialed the Garrison’s phone number. Thelma answered on the fifth ring.
“Hello,” the old woman said.
In the enthusiastic voice he used when selling kitchen knives, Scott asked, “May I speak to Kendall?”
“Kendall? He don’t live here.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. How can I reach him?”
“At his house in Gaffney.”
“Do you happen to have that number?”
“It’s here someplace, but I can’t see anymore. My grandson will be home later. Do you want him to call you?”
“Don’t go to any trouble. That’s Kendall Garrison in Gaffney?”
“Garrison? No Kendall is a Kidd.”
Scott was thrown off guard. “How old is he?”
“In his early thirties, I reckon.”
Scott realized his mistake. “Oh, Kendall Kidd. I’m sorry.”
“Who’s a-calling? I can have my—”
“Thanks.”
Scott put down the receiver. He typed in Kendall Kidd in
Gaffney, South Carolina, the peach capital of South Carolina. The name and address popped up. Cousin Kendall was not a figment of the Garrisons’ imaginations. Scott pressed the print button.
During the final week of preparation for the mock trial program, the students showed Scott how serious they could be. The sessions bore no resemblance to Scott’s concern in Mr. Humphrey’s office that he would be stuck in a room of bored teenagers, and the young lawyer began to harbor a secret hope for something better than a mediocre result in the competition on Saturday.
Frank had read the articles Scott assigned and made an effort on Tuesday to be a leader, not a dictator, but it didn’t last. Toward the end of a productive practice, Scott told the lawyers to work together while he and Kay coached the witnesses on some final points. Unsupervised, Frank ridiculed Yvette so severely that she began to cry. She tried to fight off the tears, but they squeezed their way to the surface anyway, and she ran out of the room. Scott looked up and saw her go past and suspected what had happened. Kay quickly followed Yvette out the door.
Scott jumped up and went to the corner where the four students had been sitting. Janie was also about to cry. Dustin was glaring at Frank, who was making notes on a sheet of paper as if nothing had occurred. The room was totally silent and every eye was on Scott and Frank.
“Tell me what happened,” Scott said in a low, firm voice.
“She can’t handle the pressure,” Frank responded. “She needs to toughen up if she expects to do well on Saturday.”
“No!” Dustin said, his face turning red. “You little jerk. If you do that again I’ll—”
“Wait,” Scott interrupted. “Janie and Dustin, go over there with the others and get back to work.”
Janie got up and Dustin followed more slowly. Scott sat down next to Frank.
“What are you trying to prove?” he asked. “The competition is on Saturday, and you’re trying to blow up the team.”
Frank scoffed. “She’ll be all right.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
Frank narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have anything to prove.” He stopped suddenly.
Scott knew he had something else to say. “Go ahead. Finish.”
Frank shook his head. “No.”
“Do you want to stay on this team?”
Frank shrugged. “You can kick me off, but it would be a mistake.”
“Why? You’re hurting more than you’re helping at this point.”
Frank stared at Scott, who met his gaze for several seconds. There was something very dark lurking behind Frank Jesup’s eyes. Scott saw it, but didn’t understand what he detected. It mocked him without words and dared him to take another step. He involuntarily shivered. Frank saw the movement and knew he’d won the invisible struggle. He smiled slightly.
“Don’t worry,” the student said. “We’ll pull together. I’ll say something to Yvette.”
“You’d better,” Scott replied. But the words came out of his mouth without any authority.
Kay returned with Yvette, who was embarrassed at her outburst and ready to accept Frank’s glib apology so that she could put the incident behind her. Scott could see in Dustin’s eyes that he was less willing to forgive and go on. They finished the session without further incident. Frank gave his closing argument for the plaintiff ’s case in front of the whole group. No one clapped, but Scott was impressed.
The students left, and Scott dropped down in a seat in front of Kay’s desk.
“I’m tired. That confrontation with Frank wiped me out.”
“How did you convince him to apologize?”
“I didn’t. He did it on his own.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“I’m not so sure. Frank does things for his own reasons, and I don’t think I know what is really motivating him.”
“He wants to prove he’s the best and the brightest. He’s very competitive.”
Scott remembered the look in Frank’s eyes. “Maybe, but there is something else going on inside his head. Did you ever talk to his parents?”
“I’ve left two messages with his father, but he hasn’t called back. I don’t have a number for his mother.”
Scott could get Vivian Jesup’s phone number from the file at the office. He made a mental note to give it to Kay. He closed his briefcase, and they walked out of the classroom together.
“How are we going to do on Saturday?” she asked.
“Good. I’d especially like to do well against the team coached by my old adversary from Duke.”
“Does that mean we need to win?”
Scott grinned. “Yes.”
He walked Kay to her car and opened the driver’s-side door.
“After our Tuesday and Thursday sessions are over, when will I see you?”
Kay’s eyes met his. “I don’t know. I’m going to spend most of my time with Mrs. Willston. Maybe the three of us could get together.”
Scott held on to the door. “That wouldn’t work. Our threesome is you, me, and Nicky.”
Kay smiled. “You’re probably right. I couldn’t go too long without seeing Nicky. He’s special.”
“He feels exactly the same about you.”
Driving home, Scott didn’t dwell on the depths of darkness in Frank Jesup’s soul. More pleasant thoughts occupied his mind. The following morning, Scott reported his findings about cousin Kendall to Leland Humphrey.
“Good detective work. Are you sure Mrs. Garrison didn’t recognize your voice?”
“Yes, I used my salesman voice.”
“Really? Let me hear it.”
“Okay, but it will cost you a $500 set of kitchen knives.”
Mr. Humphrey chuckled. “I’ll pass.”
“What should I do next about Kendall?” Scott continued. “I thought about calling him but couldn’t come up with a plan of action.”
Mr. Humphrey thought for a moment. “If you don’t want to talk to him, the next option is to talk to those who know him. Coworkers, family, the police.”
“Police?”
“Do a criminal record check on him. If it turns up positive, the local authorities might be willing to talk with you.”
“Okay.”
“Are you going to meet with Lester before next Monday?” the older lawyer asked.
Scott nodded. “He is coming in on Friday. It’s a review session unless something turns up with Kendall. Since there is no plan for Lester to testify, I just want to make sure he understands what is going to happen.”
“Do you want me to be there?”
“No, sir. That won’t be necessary. Have you looked over the new jury pool?”
Mr. Humphrey patted a thin stack of papers on the corner of his desk. “It’s on my list for this afternoon. I’ll dictate a memo of my recommendations.”
Upstairs at his computer, Scott accessed a public-record database for South Carolina. He typed in Kendall’s name and requested criminal convictions within the last ten years and didn’t get a hit. Then, he realized he typed in Garrison, not Kidd. Correcting his error, he tried again. The server searched for several seconds then came to life. There was a list that ran to the bottom of the screen. Kendall had been a bad boy and a worse man.
Scott leaned closer. He quickly counted seven misdemeanors and two felonies. The misdemeanors included several drunk and disorderly convictions, two DUIs, a petty theft, and selling a stolen gun. The two felonies were more sobering: an assault with a deadly weapon charge that resulted in five years in prison followed by a serious drug charge involving cocaine. If Kendall was about thirty years old, he had spent three-fourths of the time since he was eighteen behind bars.
Several of the charges had been filed in Union County, South Carolina. Scott dialed the phone number for the sheriff ’s department and asked to speak to one of the detectives.
“Griffin, here,” a gravel-voiced detective answered.
Scott introduced himself. “I’m interested in information about a man named Kendall Kidd.
Do you know him?”
“Are you his lawyer?” the detective responded with obvious interest.
“No. I represent a juvenile in North Carolina, and Kidd’s name has come up in the investigation.”
“I’m interested in information about him myself,” the detective replied. “There is an outstanding warrant for his arrest. We’ve been looking for him since the first of the month.”
“What are the charges?”
“He shot up a black church outside Rock Hill. No one was killed, but he wounded a man in the leg.”
Scott swallowed hard. “Was anyone else involved?”
“Unknown at this point. Kidd was picked out of a photo lineup by several people who were present at the scene. What are the facts of your case?”
“The same, only no injuries. Do you have a picture of him on file?”
“A drawerful. We photograph him every time he’s arrested.”
“What color hair does he have?”
“White.”
“White?”
“Yeah, dyed as white as snow, but underneath it’s black. I’ve arrested him several times since he was a juvenile. When we catch him, we’re going to try him under the three strikes statute and put him away for good.”
“A life sentence?”
“Without parole.”
“Will you let me know if he’s arrested?” Scott asked. “It may be that he should be the one charged in my case here in North Carolina. My client’s going to trial on Monday, so call me anytime.”
Scott gave the detective his phone number at home and the office.
“We’ll catch him,” the detective replied. “But maybe not in time to help you.”
Scott reported his findings to Mr. Humphrey. The older lawyer was leaning back with his feet on the corner of his desk when Scott came into his office, but by the time Scott got to the information about Kendall Kidd facing a life sentence under the recidivist statute, he was sitting straight up in his chair.
“What do you think?” Scott asked when he finished.
“It’s dynamite. We’ve just got to figure out a way to get it into evidence.”
Scott nodded. “Kendall either fired the shots or encouraged Lester to do so. In either case, he’s on the scene with Lester helping him break through any resistance to violating the law and jeopardizing the lives of others.”
The Sacrifice Page 35
