Gone Again: A Jack Swyteck Novel

by James Grippando

  “Maybe she had it lined up before she even came to see me. I don’t know.”

  “Did you ask her to take a polygraph?”

  “No. Debra offered. I told her that it probably wouldn’t help, and that she needed to leave.”

  “Really? If she took a polygraph examination, that would be very helpful to your husband’s case, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not at all. It’s not admissible in evidence.”

  “I’m not talking about legal niceties. Barbara Carmichael is no sleazebag prosecutor. Do you think she would completely disregard a polygraph examination in shaping her theory of the case?”

  “She might. Who’s the examiner?”

  “Jorge Delgado. Twenty-five years with MDPD before he opened a private testing service.”

  “Debra picked a reputable guy.”

  “Yes, she did. I know you don’t like my implication, but I need to do my job, and I need a straight answer: Did you recommend him to her?”

  “No. I did not.”

  “Did you even mention casually, ‘Hey, Jack, Debra Burgette told me she’s willing to sit for a polygraph. Maybe you should follow up on that?’”

  “No. I would never have that conversation with Jack.”

  “Even if it could make the difference in his case?”

  “Especially if it would make a difference in his case. And, by the way, it’s not even clear to me that a polygraph examination would help Jack. It depends on the questions.”

  “I can tell you exactly what they were,” he said as he flipped the next page, then read aloud: “Question one: ‘Did you rehome your daughter Sashi with Carlos Mendoza?’ Answer: ‘No.’ Examiner’s conclusion: ‘No signs of deception.’ Question two: ‘Did you enter into any kind of arrangement with Carlos Mendoza to rehome your daughter Sashi?’ Answer: ‘No.’ Examiner’s conclusion: ‘No signs of deception.’”

  Andie hesitated. “That actually would hurt Jack’s case. Jack wants Judge Frederick to believe that after Dylan Reeves tried to rape Sashi and she got away, she had nowhere to run but back into the hands of Carlos Mendoza.”

  “Unless his theory is that Gavin Burgette rehomed Sashi.”

  “You don’t understand the case. This is a habeas petition. Jack has to show that Dylan Reeves deserves a new trial because the first time around the prosecutor failed to turn over evidence that Sashi had been rehomed and was living with Carlos Mendoza—one very bad actor. If it’s a lock that Debra didn’t rehome her daughter, Jack’s chances of winning just went down by fifty percent.”

  Schwartz took a minute, and that knitted brow above his graying eyebrows told her that he was working hard to grasp the legal theory. “I follow you,” he said finally. “But now I’m even more concerned.”

  “Why?”

  He leaned forward, and Andie suddenly felt his interrogation mode tighten. “You just explained Jack’s case like a constitutional law professor. And you’re telling me that you are abiding one hundred percent by the information barriers imposed on you, and that the two of you don’t talk about his case?”

  “No, sir. We don’t. And, by the way, even though I didn’t stick around long enough to get a law degree, I did get an A in constitutional law as a first-year law student at U.C. Santa Barbara.”

  He laid the report on his desk, then rose. Andie pushed herself up from the armchair. “Are we finished?” she asked.

  “For now.”

  Andie thanked him and started toward the door.

  “Henning,” he said.

  She stopped. “Yes?”

  “You’re very highly regarded here. Don’t screw it up over a guy like Dylan Reeves.”

  She could have told him that it was about Sashi Burgette, not Dylan Reeves, but it probably wouldn’t have helped. “I’ll take that to heart,” she said.

  “See that you do,” he said.

  She let herself out, taking a few deep breaths on the walk back to her office.

  CHAPTER 41

  Jack was seated at Neil’s desk, reviewing the “Final Report of Jorge Delgado: Polygraph Examination of Debra Burgette.” Hannah was standing over his left shoulder, silently reading along as Jack turned the pages. Debra watched from the other side of the desk, her whole body a clenched fist of anxiety.

  Jack had taken her call after lunch. “I passed a lie detector test,” she’d said, and they agreed to meet at the Freedom Institute. The clock was ticking. The hearing before Judge Frederick, and Jack’s cross-examination of Carlos Mendoza, was just a few hours away.

  Jack looked up from the report. Hannah indicated that she had finished as well. She walked around the desk and took the chair next to Debra’s.

  “Who else has seen this report?” asked Jack.

  “Well, I have no way of knowing if he’s actually seen it yet, but I sent it by courier this morning to your wife’s boss. The assistant special agent in charge.”

  “Guy Schwartz?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyone else?”

  She shrugged. “Whoever Mr. Schwartz may have shown it to.”

  The name Andie Henning came to mind, but Jack didn’t mention it. Nor did anyone else. “Are you planning to show it to Barbara Carmichael?”

  Debra took a breath. “She hasn’t been my best friend lately, has she? I was thinking I might let her read about it in the Miami Tribune.”

  There was more than a hint of bitterness in her tone. “Is that your plan?” asked Jack. “To send this to the media?”

  “You ask that like there’s something wrong with it.”

  “It’s just a question.”

  She looked at Hannah, then back at Jack. “Do you have any idea what the words Gavin spoke in that courtroom have done to me?” she asked, her voice shaking with anger.

  He didn’t answer. Neither did Hannah.

  “I don’t have a single friend in this town who will return my phone calls. The women at Alexander’s dance academy treat me like a leper. I’ve told Aquinnah that it’s not true—I didn’t rehome her sister. But what a horrible spot she’s in: either her father’s a malicious liar or her mother is the worst parent on the planet. All I can hope for is that the truth will come out before Alexander hears about any of this.”

  “I’m doing my best to make sure it does,” said Jack.

  “I appreciate that. But you need to understand that this is getting beyond stressful. It’s to the point that I’m starting to fear for my own safety.”

  “Are you getting threats?”

  “Not really. This case isn’t on CNN every night, but it’s getting enough local coverage for complete strangers to form an opinion and hate me.”

  “I’m not saying you’re paranoid,” said Jack, “but the feeling that people hate you is probably more in your head than reality.”

  “You think so, huh? Last night I picked up Alexander from his dance studio, and I swear some man was looking at me like he was ready to take Alexander away from me.”

  “Where?”

  “Little Moscow. Right at the shopping mall where Alexander takes lessons.”

  “Who was the guy?”

  “I have no idea. But there are plenty of newspapers in Little Moscow, and dozens of bloggers who follow local events, all in Russian. Who knows what they’re saying about the horrible American mother who rehomed her Russian daughter?”

  Jack looked at Hannah. “That might be worth looking into,” she said.

  “Put it at the top of our list of things to do that we have neither the time nor the money to get done,” said Jack.

  “You’re missing my point,” said Debra. “I’m trying to hold my family together and save what’s left of my reputation. It may not serve your purposes for me to take it to the media, but I’m sorry: I’m going to use that polygraph any way I can to prove that I am not the terrible person that my ex-husband says I am.”

  Jack glanced again at the report. “Jorge Delgado is probably the most reputable private examiner in Miami.”

  “He wasn
’t cheap.”

  “How’d you link up with him?”

  “I Googled ‘Miami polygraph examiners.’ The list of clients on his website is like a who’s who of corporate Miami.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Jack. “Corporate investigation into employee theft is a private polygrapher’s bread and butter. Who drafted the questions for your examination?”

  “Mr. Delgado did. Why do you ask?”

  “Sitting for a polygraph examination is risky—especially if you don’t have your own lawyer to help shape the questions.”

  “I don’t have a lawyer.”

  “You may want to rethink that going forward. Your ex-husband is using his divorce lawyer. Probably wouldn’t hurt to give yours a call.”

  “I still owe him thirty thousand dollars. Don’t think he’d take my call.”

  “I can recommend someone.”

  “I don’t need one.”

  “Hopefully not. Barbara Carmichael did tell me that she’s not looking to make life miserable for you or your ex-husband. But even Judge Frederick mentioned that lodging a false missing-person report with the police is a crime.”

  “It wasn’t a false report. Sashi—went—missing,” she said, halting between each word to emphasize the point.

  “I got it,” said Jack. “You should still hire a lawyer.”

  “Is that what we’re going to make this meeting about? How I need to hire a lawyer?”

  Jack paused, giving her a moment to cool off. “What would you like it to be about, Debra?”

  “I’d like to know what you’re going to do with Carlos Mendoza.”

  He glanced at Hannah, then back at Debra. “That’s between my client and me.”

  Debra moved forward in her chair, almost to the edge. “I know it helps Dylan Reeves if you can convince the judge that I rehomed Sashi. That would be something that his lawyer should have told him about before the trial. I get that. But Sashi wasn’t rehomed . . . unless Gavin did it.”

  “Interesting,” said Jack, as he reached again for the report. “You weren’t asked that question in your polygraph examination—whether Gavin rehomed Sashi.”

  “Because the answer is ‘I don’t know.’ The last time I saw Sashi was when I dropped her off at school on Friday morning. Gavin was away on his ‘business trip,’” she said, making air quotes. “Or so he says. Nobody ever really questioned that story until you went after him on the witness stand.”

  “Honestly, I was simply following my instincts. I had no factual basis to question that he was on a business trip.”

  “Nor did I,” said Debra. “But when you backed him into a corner, what did he do? He blamed me. ‘Debra did it.’ That’s his story now.”

  Jack looked at Hannah again.

  “Should I add that to our no-time-or-money-to-get-it-done list?” she asked.

  “Keep it simple,” said Jack. “Ask Nicole Thompson to provide travel records that will show where her client was that day.”

  “Will do.”

  “But let’s stay focused on Carlos Mendoza,” Jack said, his gaze shifing back to Debra. “So, tonight, when I cross-examine Mendoza, you want me to reverse the tide—is that it? You want me to turn ‘Debra did it’ into ‘Gavin did it’?”

  “Yes. No.” She closed her eyes, her face filled with anguish. “I don’t know.”

  “You can only pick one,” said Jack.

  She was shaking, and in her eyes Jack could almost see the roiling emotions inside her. “I still believe Sashi is alive,” she said. “I don’t think Dylan Reeves should die for a murder that never happened. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  Her hands tightened into a fist to stop them from shaking. “I’m not willing to let you, or anyone else, create the impression that I rehomed my daughter. I know this is terrible to say . . . but I would rather Dylan Reeves die on the gurney for a murder he didn’t commit than have my children—Aquinnah and Alexander—think that I would do such a thing to their sister. I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing back a tear, “but that’s how I feel. I may never get Sashi back. I can’t lose two more. Can you understand that?”

  The question was simple enough, but the preface was layered with complexity; and Jack thought of all the times he’d put the screws to a witness in similar fashion, and then demanded “a yes or no answer.” Nothing in this case was that black and white.

  “I think you’ve made your position clear enough,” said Jack.

  She took a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eye. “You’re judging me.”

  “Only your credibility. It’s not my job to make value judgments.”

  “You don’t believe me. Even with the polygraph exam, do you?”

  “I think most of this will sort itself out after I cross-examine Carlos Mendoza.”

  “I agree. I just . . . I just hope you will keep in mind the results of my lie detector test before you let him get away with accusing me of something I didn’t do.”

  “It will be a vigorous cross-examination, Debra. I can promise you that much.” Jack rose. “Thank you for coming,” he said as he walked around to the other side of the desk.

  Debra rose and shook his hand. “I plan to be there tonight,” she said.

  “There’s likely to be media coverage. If I were your lawyer, I’d tell you not to comment.”

  “If you were my lawyer, you’d tell me to release the polygraph exam, wouldn’t you?”

  It was a stronger comeback than Jack had expected. Jack treated it as rhetorical and let the meeting end on that note. “I’ll see you this evening, Debra.”

  She thanked the lawyers, and then Hannah escorted her out of the office and to the front door. Jack returned to his desk. He was seated in his chair, taking one more look at the polygrapher’s report, when Hannah returned.

  “Can I ask you a question, Jack?”

  He laid the report aside. “Sure.”

  She took the chair that Debra had vacated. “My dad had pretty strong views on polygraph examinations. Do you put much stock in them?”

  “My opinion: put a seasoned detective in a room with a suspect for thirty minutes, ask him if he thinks the suspect is lying or telling the truth, and his instincts are likely to be more accurate than any reading you’ll get from a polygraph examiner. Er, excuse me: ‘forensic credibility examiner.’”

  “Dad felt the same way. But Jorge Delgado is kind of a legend in law enforcement, isn’t he? If anyone is going to get an accurate reading, it would be him.”

  Jack’s gaze drifted across the room to the framed newspaper clipping on the wall—the one about Theo Knight’s release from death row. “Delgado polygraphed Theo,” said Jack, “when he was with MDPD.”

  “Are you shittin’ me?”

  “Nope. The cops picked up Theo for killing a convenience-store clerk. Theo’s story was consistent from the beginning. He went into a convenience store. The place was empty. Theo figured the clerk was in the bathroom or maybe in the stockroom, sleeping on the job. So he helped himself to the cash drawer. On his way out, he found the clerk on the floor in a pool of blood. Theo denied he was the killer, but no one believed him. This was before the days when mom-and-pop convenience stores like this one had security cameras that could have proved him innocent. He agreed to sit for a polygraph, thinking that would put an end to it.”

  “But he failed?” asked Hannah.

  “According to Delgado, he failed. Theo’s answers showed ‘significant signs of deception.’”

  “I guess I’m not the first defense lawyer to say it,” said Hannah, “but just because someone flunks a polygraph doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

  “And just because Debra passed doesn’t mean she’s telling the truth.”

  Hannah nodded. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Thanks.”

  She started out, then stopped in the doorway. “By the way, I like your new digs. And Dad’s desk looks good on you.”

  Jack offered a little smile, which
she returned, along with a thumbs-up sign. Then she left him alone, and Jack went to work on his cross-examination outline.

  A few last-minute changes were in order.

  CHAPTER 42

  Debra parked in the parent lot at Grove Academy and followed the walkway to the main courtyard. Alexander participated in team robotics every Wednesday till four, so this was Debra’s weekly reprieve from the stress of the three p.m. pickup line.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Burgette,” said the security guard at the gate.

  Security didn’t know every GA parent by name; for better or worse, the parents of Sashi Burgette were known by all.

  “Hello, Wilfredo,” she said as she passed.

  Despite Sashi’s expulsion, the GA campus could still have a calming, almost enchanting, effect on Debra. The sheer beauty of the grounds was part of it. New England had its ivy-clad halls, but it was hard to beat century-old vines of bougainvillea ablaze with blossoms of orange, pink, and purple. More than anything, however, she loved the way Alexander had thrived there. She walked upstairs to the new STEM lab and peered through the window. The robotics coaches were supervising a dozen boys and girls—future engineers at work on the design and construction of electronic gadgets and gizmos born of a child’s imagination, from robotic arms to miniature all-terrain vehicles of the future.

  Debra didn’t see her son.

  She knocked on the door, and the coach answered. “Where’s Alexander?” Debra asked.

  The coach stepped out of the lab and closed the door, which sent Debra’s heart racing. “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “I just don’t want the other children to hear.”

  “Hear what?” she asked with urgency.

  “Alexander is in Mr. McDermott’s office.”

  Debra hated to assume the worst, but she hadn’t visited the headmaster’s office since Sashi’s expulsion. “Alexander?” she asked in disbelief. “Did he do something wrong?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then why isn’t he here with his team?”

  “Department of Children and Family Services sent a social worker to the school today. They’ve been interviewing all of Alexander’s teachers.”