Just Take My Heart

by Mary Higgins Clark

  Alice Mills. Emily's thoughts turned back to her. If she had been convinced of his innocence back in April when I first met her here, would I have done anything different? she asked herself.

  It was a possibility that frightened her. Billy and Jake did n the investigation on the case, including interviewing Jimmy Eastern and checking out the details of his story. There was no question that Gregg Aldrich had placed a phone call to him and there was question that he had accurately described Aldrich's living room.

  But so much of the rest of his story could not be corroborated. Gregg Aldrich completely denied ever getting a letter from Eason backing out of the deal to kill Natalie.

  Easton just doesn't seem like the type to write a letter, Emily thought. It would be so much more like him to leave a cryptic message on Aldrich's cell phone saying he was leaving town and was no longer available to provide services.

  But maybe Easton didn't want to get involved in any conversa?tion if Gregg had answered the call, Emily rationalized. He couldn't count on just getting Gregg's voice mail. So he wrote a letter.

  I'm finished trying this case, she reminded herself. Let it go. There is a ton of evidence against Gregg Aldrich. Whatever the jury does, I can live with.

  At four thirty that afternoon, Judge Stevens sent the jury home, re?minding them again not to discuss the deliberations, either amour themselves or with anyone else.

  They've been deliberating for about twelve hours now, 1 thought as she watched the somber-faced jury file out. That doesn’t surprise me. I just hope we get a verdict by Friday afternoon. She smiled ruefully. After watching Courtside last night and hearing the poll results, she didn't want the jurors exposed over the weekend to family and friends dying to offer helpful comments.

  Richard Moore lingered in the courtroom after Cole escorted Gregg and Katie out, with Alice Mills a few steps behind them. He came over to Emily. “The jurors are making both of us sweat, Emily,” he remarked cordially.

  “I guess they are, Richard,” Emily agreed. “But I always thought this would take a few days.”

  “I understand that Alice Mills came to see you yesterday.”

  “She certainly did,” Emily replied. “She's a lovely lady and she's been through hell, but I'm sure glad she's not on the jury.”

  Richard Moore chuckled. “I guess you are.” The momentary hint of humor then disappeared. “Emily, I swear to you. You've got the wrong guy. You may get a conviction, but if you do we're going to keep looking for how Easton got his information, especially about that damn squeaky drawer. There's got to be another explanation.”

  “Richard, you've done a great job for him. I have prosecuted him in good conscience. If any legitimate new evidence ever came up, I would be the first to want to see it.”

  They walked out of the courtroom together. “See you in the morning,” Richard said.

  “Take care,” Emily replied.

  When she got to her office, there was a note on her desk. “Em,” it read, “come to Solari's at 6:30 for dinner. It's Billy Tryon's birthday and we're taking him out. Ted Wesley is going to stop by.” The note was signed “Trish,” an investigator in the office.

  Trish had added a good-natured RS. “You'll be home in time to watch your favorite show — Courtside!!!!”

  The thought of sharing in a birthday celebration for Billy Tryon was singularly unappealing, but there was no way she could decline, particularly since Ted Wesley, Tryon's cousin, was going to be there.

  It's almost five o'clock, she realized. Since I'm stuck with this, I'd better get going so that I can feed Bess and let her out. And I'll get out of this suit and these heels and put on something more comfortable.

  An hour later, after having treated Bess to a twenty-minute walk, Emily put out her food, changed her water dish, and went upstairs. Bess had been so frantic to go out that she hadn't taken the tin* change when she first got home.

  Just Take My Heart

  45

  Detective Billy Tryon was clearly enjoying his fifty-third birthday dinner at Solaris, the popular restaurant located around the corner from the Bergen County Courthouse. His arm around the chair of his latest young girlfriend, Donna Woods, he commented how good it was to get away from the tension of waiting for the Aldrich verdict.

  “Jake and I put in a load of hours on this one,” he said, a hint of boasting in his tone. “Too bad he couldn't make it tonight. His kid is in some game.”

  “Billy, I didn't think you liked Jake,” Donna protested earnestly. “Why would you want him here?”

  Thoroughly enjoying Tryon's obvious embarrassment as he shot an angry glance at his girlfriend, Emily felt an immediate kinship with Jake. Too bad I don't have a kid in a game tonight, she thought. I'd really rather be almost anywhere else.

  The others at the table were two assistant prosecutors, two vet?eran detectives, and Investigator Trish Foley, the one who had left the note inviting Emily to the dinner.

  Trish is such a good friend, Emily thought, but she doesn't real?ize how I feel about Billy Tryon. I'm sure that she invited me here because she knows I'm worried about the Aldrich jury. She thinks that getting out tonight will be good for me. I'd much rather be home with Bess, she sighed.

  She had not seen led Wesley today but she knew he had bet his office. It surprised her somewhat that he hadn't stopped by to or hello. That wasn't like him when a jury was out on a major case.

  Billy Tryon, still squirming from Donna's indiscreet comment about his opinion of Jake, tried to change the subject. “Come on, Em, stop worrying. When you've got such a model citizen as your star witness, getting a conviction is a piece of cake,” he joked. “Didn't you love Easton's story about the letter he sent Aldrich backing of the deal and keeping the 'nonrefundable advance'? That was my line and he used it. It got a big laugh in court.”

  “That was your line!” Emily exclaimed in shock.

  “Well, you know what I mean. When I first interviewed him, he told me that in his letter to Aldrich, he wrote that he wasn't going to return the money. I joked to him that it was like a sort of nonrefundable advance. And that's the way it came out when he testified.”

  “Hello, everybody.” Ted Wesley pulled out a chair and sat down. They had not noticed him approaching but it was clear that he had overheard Billy's remark. “Let's get off that subject,” he said brusquely. “We don't need to create problems.”

  And happy birthday, Billy, Emily thought sarcastically. She stud?ied the prosecutor's face. Something is bothering Ted, she thought. I wonder if he saw Courtside last night. I bet he did. And he can't be happy when nearly half the viewers think that his office is prosecuting an innocent man. That's not exactly the best image for the in?coming United States Attorney General, the chief law enforcement officer in the whole country.

  She was aware that Ted's greeting had been directed to the whole table and that she had not received her usual warm recognition. Of course, that should have been what I expected, she reminded her?self. I know Ted is a fair-weather friend, not just to me, but to pretty much everybody. If Aldrich is convicted, I predict plenty of fair weather—nothing but balmy breezes and plenty of sunshine.

  Trish tried to reinstate the festive mood that Donna's revelation had obliterated. “So, Billy, what do you really want for your birth?day?” she asked cheerfully.

  “What do I want? Let me see.” Tryon was also obviously trying to shift the conversation away from any reference to Easton. “To keep doing whatever it takes to get the bad guys. To win the lottery so I can have a fancy pad in a Park Avenue building. And to visit my cousin the new attorney general in Washington.” He looked at Ted and smiled. “I want to see how it feels to put my feet up on your desk.”

  Ted Wesley was clearly in no mood for humor. “As I told you ear?lier, I could only stop by for a few minutes. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  He got up abruptly.

  He never did get around to wishing his cousin a happy birthday, Emily observed. The waiter was h
anding out menus. They ordered, and the tension began to dissipate for everyone, except the birthday boy, who, Emily could see, was still rattled by both his girlfriend's stupid comment and his cousin's chilliness. Fortunately for Donna, she was oblivious and having a good time.

  The food was delicious. As the evening went on, Billy seemed to get over his anger. He joked that Donna, who was drinking only soda, was his designated driver, and helped himself to four generous glasses of wine.

  Dessert consisted of Billy's birthday cake, served with coffee. As they finished and got ready to leave, Trish told them the prosecutor had called her this afternoon and told her to put it on his tab.

  Billy smiled and said, “That's my cousin, my best buddy since we were little kids.”

  And you're an embarrassment to him, Emily thought. I just hope you don't end up being an albatross around his neck. She realized how deeply upset she was about what she had learned at this dinner.

  First, he was obviously at odds with his partner, Jake Rosen, a fine and ethical investigator. Second, he had given Easton a quotable quote for the jurors about not giving the money back to Aldrich.

  And finally, a birthday wish had been to keep doing “whatever it takes to get the bad guys.”

  “Whatever it takes,” she thought.

  And what does that mean?

  Just Take My Heart

  46

  At 11:15 on Thursday morning Emily received a call from Judge Stevens's secretary that the jury had sent a note to the judge. “Is it a verdict?” Emily asked, anxiously.

  “No, it's not a verdict,” the secretary replied. “Judge Stevens wants to see you and the Moores in his chambers in five minutes.”

  “Okay, I'll be right up.”

  Emily made a quick call to Ted Wesley's office to let him know that something was happening.

  Ted got on the phone. “Verdict?”

  “No,” Emily said. “It could be a request for readback or it could be a hung jury. If they're saying they're hung, I'm sure that Moore will move for a mistrial.”

  Before she could finish what she was going to say, Wesley said angrily, “You object to that. They've only been out a couple of days, after weeks of trial.”

  Emily tried not to sound irritated. “That's exactly what I plan to do. Of course, I will argue that they should be instructed to continue to deliberate. Anyhow, I don't think Judge Stevens would do it this soon.”

  “All right. Good. It's much too early to let them throw in the towel. I'll see you up there.”

  A few minutes later, Emily and the Moores were in Judge Ste?vens's chambers. The judge had the note in his hand and read it to them: “Your Honor, we would like to hear the testimony of Jimmy Easton and Gregg Aldrich again. Thank you.” The note was signed by juror number one.

  “I've notified the court reporter and she'll be ready to go in about fifteen minutes,” Judge Stevens told them. “Both witnesses gave lengthy testimony, and I anticipate that the readback will take the rest of the day.”

  Emily and both of the Moores agreed. They thanked the judge and went out to the courtroom. Ted Wesley was standing by the prosecutor's table. “We're going to have readback of both Easton and Aldrich's testimony,” Emily informed him. “It will take the rest of the day.”

  He looked relieved. "Well, that's a lot better than a hung jury. If it's going to take all day, and the judge then sends them home, you’re obviously not going to get a verdict today. All right. I'm out of here, he said briskly.

  With the jury seated in the box and intensely attentive, Easton’s testimony came first. Emily cringed as the court reporter read back his flippant answers about the nonrefundable deposit. This is sup?posed to be Easton's testimony, but I wonder how much of it is really from Billy Tryon, she asked herself.

  The court reporter finished Easton's readback at 1:15. Judge Ste?vens indicated that there would be a forty-five-minute lunch recess and that they would resume at two o'clock for the readback of Gregg Aldrich's testimony.

  Rather than having to walk through the cafeteria and encounter Gregg and Katie Aldrich and Alice Mills again, Emily asked a young intern in the office to get her some soup. In her office, with the doer closed, she took comfort in the fact that the readback had been de?livered in a low-key and professional tone by the court reporter.

  This had been in marked contrast to Easton's flippant and smirk?ing demeanor when he had testified. Hopefully, any jurors who had been, understandably, disgusted by him would realize that there was a lot of substance to what he had said and a lot of corroboration . . . She touched the wood of her desk.

  At ten minutes of two, she stepped back into the elevator to go up to the courtroom. She knew it would not be easy to sit through Gregg Aldrich's tortured testimony. She also reflected that while she had hopefully benefited from the crisp readback of Easton's testimony, so might Aldrich benefit from an equally crisp readback of his testi?mony, which would not reflect the quivering hesitancy that had been in his voice and his demeanor.

  With everyone again in place, the readback began promptly at two o'clock. With total focus and intensity, the jurors seemed to ab?sorb every word. Occasionally some of them would look over at Gregg Aldrich, then at Alice Mills, who in the last several days had sat next to Katie, frequently putting her arm around her.

  She's letting the jury know that she's changed her mind, Emily recognized. And the jurors have probably seen her these past few days, when they are leaving to go home, standing with Gregg and the Moores out in the hall. I wonder how that's going to affect the jurors who still haven't made up their minds?

  We'll probably get a verdict or a hung jury by sometime tomor?row, Emily thought. She knew from past experience that a jury that has already been out for a few days, and has just heard a lengthy readback of the most important witnesses, will usually either reach a verdict or decide that they cannot agree pretty quickly.

  The court reporter finished at 4:05. “All right, ladies and gentle?men, we will recess until tomorrow morning at nine o'clock,” Judge Stevens told the jury. As Emily turned to leave, she saw that Alice Mills was staring at her.

  She had the distinct feeling that Alice had been studying her for a long time.

  As Emily stood there, Natalie's mother reached over the railing and tenderly put her hands on Gregg's shoulders, a gesture that seemed oddly familiar to Emily.

  Blinking back the tears that began to sting her eyes, Emily hur?ried from the courtroom, trying to escape the overwhelming and inexplicable nostalgia she suddenly felt when she looked at those three devastated figures, Alice, Gregg, and Katie.

  Just Take My Heart

  47

  What s your best guess?" Gregg Aldrich asked Richard Moore at ten minutes of nine on Friday morning, as they returned to their all-too-familiar places at the defense table.

  “Sometime today,” Moore answered.

  Cole Moore nodded in agreement.

  Promptly at nine o'clock, Judge Stevens took the bench. He called for the jurors to be brought into the box and directed that a roll call be taken. He then ordered the jurors to resume their delib?erations.

  As they filed back into the jury room, Gregg commented, “Rich?ard, last night the poll on Mike's Courtside Web site had forty-seven percent of the viewers in my corner. By any chance were you watching it?”

  “No, I wasn't, Gregg.”

  “I doubt that you'll ever find yourself in my predicament, but if you do, and if Mike covers it on his show, I suggest that you tune in. You'll find out that it's like being two people at once. You're the guy who's being thrown to the lions, yet at the same time you're a specta?tor in the arena who's betting on whether or not the guy in the pit can outrun them. Actually, it's a very interesting place to be.”

  I'm not making much sense, Gregg thought. I guess I'm worn out. It's crazy that I slept so well last night, but then woke up this morning with this terrible feeling that I'm going to get convicted. I thought all along that I wanted to get this over with, but n
ow I’m begging God for at least a hung jury. If I'm found guilty, the appeal process could take years, and I can tell that Richard thinks I wouldn’t I have much chance on appeal.

  A convicted murderer.

  They assign you a number, don't they?

  I want my life back. I want to get up in the morning and go to work. I want to drive up to Katie's school and watch her play soccer I want to get out on the golf course. I hardly played all summer and when I did, I couldn't concentrate.

  The judge was leaving the bench. Gregg looked over at the pros?ecutor's table. Emily Wallace was still seated. Today she was wearing a dark green jacket over a black turtleneck sweater, with a black skirt. Her legs were crossed under the table and he could see that as usual she was wearing high heels. The clicking of those heels when she had first entered the courtroom this morning reminded him of the sound of Natalie's heels, which he used to hear when the apartment was quiet and she came home around eleven o'clock after a perfor?mance . . .

  Unless I was going to meet her at the theatre, I always waited up for her, Gregg thought. Her steps on the hardwood floor in the t would wake me up if I was dozing.

  And then I'd get both of us a drink and fix a snack for her if she was hungry. I enjoyed doing it, even though she'd be worrying that she was keeping me up and it wasn't fair.

  Natalie, why did you stress so much over things that were never a problem? Why were you so damn insecure that you just couldn't accept the fact that I loved you and loved doing things for you?

  As Gregg glanced again at the prosecutor's table, he saw one of the detectives who had interviewed him right after Natalie died, and again seven months ago right after Easton was arrested, walk over to Emily Wallace.

  Tryon, Gregg thought. What's his first name again? Oh, yes, it's Billy. It was obvious watching him testify at the trial that he thinks he's James Bond. As Gregg watched, Tryon put his hand on Emily Wallace's shoulder in a familiar manner that she clearly did not appreciate as she looked up and frowned.