He began working his phone.
“Meredith? Are you thinking Meredith?”
“That’s what I’m thinking, but her name doesn’t appear anywhere in the story,” Mac answered as he scrolled down with his thumb. “If they were releasing Sterling’s name, you’d assume her name would be in the story. But all it says is Sterling and another woman.” He read down further. “The Hennepin County sheriff and Orono police are investigating the case.” Mac clicked out of the story and went into his phone directory, thumbed down, clicked a name, and put the phone to his ear.
“Who are you calling?”
“A friend. Heidi Laine at the Hennepin County Sheriff’s Office. She always has the 4-1-1 on things.”
“We should go,” Sally suggested.
“Yeah, I’ll get the car, and you say good-bye.”
Mac and Sally skipped the post-dinner drink. Twenty minutes later while driving home, Mac had an answer. He hung up and shook his head. “Not good.”
“So?”
“The other woman was not Meredith.”
“Thank God,” Sally replied with some relief.
“Well, yeah, I suppose,” Mac answered. “But there was still another woman. A woman named Callie Gentry. Sterling and Gentry were shot a combined thirteen times in the bed at Sterling’s house out on Lake Minnetonka. Heidi said she heard it was just a grisly scene, blood everywhere.” He shook his head. “I knew I recognized that house on the channel six promo back at home.”
“How?”
“Because when Meredith was running around on me, one of the places she and Sterling went was that lake place. Johnny Biggs, the investigator I hired, had the photos. That was one of the places Sterling took her to.”
“Poetic justice, I suppose,” Sally answered.
“Supposedly, this Gentry woman was at the reception last night. When I was talking to Meredith, I saw Sterling talking to a pretty attractive brunette, and I could tell Meredith wasn’t happy about it.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Sally asked. “The spouse is always the prime suspect if their husband is murdered.”
“She’s more than a suspect, Sally. My contact says she’s going to be arrested and charged.”
“That quickly?” Sally asked, shocked. “What did she do, admit it?”
“No, she didn’t do that,” Mac answered. “But Heidi says the word is, the case is solid. Flimsy alibi and tons of motive, because apparently Meredith had just learned he was having an affair earlier in the day.”
“That’s not good.”
“It gets worse,” Mac replied. “Her prints are on the murder weapon, and witnesses have her fleeing the scene in her Mercedes.” He ran his left hand over his face and sighed. “It doesn’t make sense, though.”
“Why not? I’m envisioning Meredith finding those two in the act and snapping. I mean, that sure sounds like what happened.”
“Exactly, Sal,” Mac answered. “But Meredith, I know her. She wouldn’t react like that. That’s not her.”
Sally laughed, still the former prosecutor. “Come on, Mac. You know as well as I do that you should never underestimate the volatility of a spouse betrayed. I’ve seen it too many times, and from plenty of people you’d never, ever have thought capable of such a vicious act. People who didn’t have a violent bone in their body. But in the heat of the moment, anyone is capable of it. Anyone. I mean, remember, we saw her when Sterling left—she was pissed.”
Mac couldn’t disagree. “Yes, she was.” He couldn’t really argue with Sally’s logic. In that moment, seeing what she may have seen, her husband and another woman, in their lake house, in a place he’d taken her a few years earlier, engaging in the same pattern, all her well-laid plans and dreams going up in flames.
Everyone has their breaking point.
That would be what the prosecutor would argue. Heck, it was the base outline of their opening statement. He shook his head slowly and blew out a sigh. “I don’t know, maybe you’re right but … man …” His words drifted off, his head still shaking in disbelief of it all. “I can’t believe it. If she did do it, her life is toast, Sally.”
Sally changed directions. “You mentioned she asked for a lawyer. Who did she get?”
“Lyman Hisle.”
“Well, then, at least she’s got the best. She’s got a chance.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Karma is one angry bitch.”
Lyman Hisle was a criminal defense attorney without peer in the Twin Cities. The case of Meredith Hilary—a double murder and the sure-fire local media attention it would draw—was right in his wheelhouse. That, and Edmund and Ann Hilary, as well as Teddy Archer, Meredith’s godfather, were all close, personal friends. Their daughter and goddaughter would get his best in representing her.
And it would be a tough case, which was apparent when Lyman discussed it with Meredith last evening, listened to the detectives question Meredith, and not to mention his conversation with the Hennepin County Attorney, Candace Johnson.
His client, to put it charitably, was in a spot.
“Meredith, kiddo, here’s how I see things. Thursday morning, you met with your private investigator, who confirmed that your husband was having an affair with a woman named Callie Gentry, a woman who was also his client, a woman who’d spent a great deal of time in your and your husband’s law firm for the past several months. He shows you these pictures of her having sex with your husband.” Lyman held them up. “He even has pictures of Sterling taking Gentry to your house out on Lake Minnetonka, not to mention actual video of them having sex. That night, after you’ve confirmed the affair, you and your husband go to the president’s birthday reception and, lo and behold, who is also in attendance? Callie Gentry, of course. So, just after you’ve seen pictures and video of Sterling and Gentry having sex, she shows up at that event, and on top of that, the two of them left the event together. Oh sure, they didn’t walk out of the hall together, but the Hennepin County sheriff’s detectives have pictures and surveillance video of them getting into his car together. Then, the next morning, your husband and Ms. Gentry are found dead, shot a combined thirteen times at your lake home, with your gun, which has your fingerprints on it.”
“Lyman, she didn’t do this,” Edmund Hilary asserted.
“Edmund, I’m talking to your daughter here,” Lyman scolded. “She needs to hear this, as do you, because this is the Cliff Notes version of the prosecution’s very convincing opening statement.” Lyman looked back at Meredith, whose eyes were squarely on him. “The Hennepin County attorney tells me there are no signs of forced entry into the house, and witnesses, shortly after the shots were heard, saw a silver Mercedes sedan racing away from the scene. You own a silver Mercedes S550, and you arrived at the Orono police station in it, and witnesses shown pictures of it say it looks like what they saw driving away.”
“It’s not like it’s the only Mercedes in the world,” Ann Hilary suggested.
Lyman ignored her, keeping his gaze on Meredith. “Neighbors report hearing the shots fired at 1:30 A.M., and that’s consistent with time of death. Now, you claim you arrived at your parents’ cabin up north of Alexandria, two hours away, at 2:30 A.M. or so, which, if true, means you couldn’t have possibly killed your husband and her lover. But nobody can verify your time of arrival at your parents’ cabin, so your alibi is, at this point, essentially worthless.”
“I understand,” Meredith stated, nodding.
“Do you?” Lyman asked. “Because given all of that, you are in a very difficult position here, young lady. So I’m going to ask this question once. Do I need to start talking to the Hennepin County attorney about a plea?”
“No,” Meredith answered defiantly. “I didn’t do this. I can’t sit here and say I’m heartbroken he’s dead, because of what he did. We didn’t love each other anymore—the marriage was not going to last. But I didn’t want him dead, and I didn’t kill him. I don’t know why, but someone is setting me up. No plea deals
. We fight.”
Lyman stared her down. “Okay, then. We’ve got work to do. First question: if you didn’t do this, someone went to considerable lengths to make it look like you did. Any ideas of who that may be?”
Meredith shook her head. “I’ve been racking my brain on that, wondering why someone would set me up. The only thing I can think of is it has something to do with Frederick. I mean, my life is fairly mundane. I work on mostly corporate matters, with the exception of my work with the Child Abuse Prevention Network. You can, and I’m sure you will, look into every aspect of my life, but I can’t think of anyone with that much animosity for me. Now Frederick, on the other hand…” Meredith smirked and slowly shook her head. “He had an innate ability to piss people off. Given his law practice and how he operated, there could be a plethora of damaged or ruined people who would want to see him dead.”
Lyman looked over to his partner and right hand, Summer Plantagenate. “We’ll need to get access to both Meredith and Sterling’s files at the law firm, both active files and closed.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Besides his affair with Gentry, what was the nature of your husband’s relationship with her?”
“She was a client. A fairly new client. I think she hired us six or seven months ago.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t really know. My husband typically handled high-profile litigation, but as far as I know, there was no lawsuit filed on her behalf. There were lots of meetings both here and out of town. She paid serious legal fees, almost three million dollars worth, but I don’t really know for what.”
“You and your husband didn’t talk about that?”
Meredith shook her head. “He and I didn’t talk about much of anything lately.”
“We’ll look into Gentry, who she is, what her business is, and all of that,” Plantagenate reported, jotting down notes. “That will be part of our request for access at the law firm.”
“The other thing we need to think about is if Meredith was set up, and it relates to something her husband and this Gentry were up to, then someone else knew about the affair and used that.”
“They used it to frame Meredith?”
Lyman nodded. “Used Meredith to hide the reason for the murder. I have some additional thoughts on that issue we’ll get to in a bit. But first, Meredith, big issue here: tell me about the Smith & Wesson 9mm and how your prints could have gotten on it?”
“We had someone try to break into our house in Minneapolis about a year ago. So Frederick decided we should have some home protection. We bought a gun for our Minneapolis house and one for out at the lake. We took gun safety classes, and we learned how to shoot them. We went to the gun range a few times. I think the gun I shot ended up out at the lake house. I haven’t touched it in months.”
“And where was it stored?”
“In the nightstand in the master bedroom,” Meredith replied. “It was loaded and ready, just in case. It was Frederick’s brilliant idea.”
“Well, it’s a problem we’ll have to deal with somehow,” Lyman answered. “It’s not a hard scenario for the prosecutor to paint. Angry spouse catches husband in bed with another woman in her own house. She goes and gets the gun …”
“I get it,” Meredith replied with a dismissive wave. “I get the story. I’ve already replayed it a hundred times in my head. It’s just not what happened.”
“At the lake house, is there a security system?” Lyman asked.
“There is.”
“So your husband must have turned it off but didn’t reset it. We’ll check with the security company. Does the door chime when it opens?”
Meredith shook her head. “No. That feature wasn’t activated.”
“That cuts both ways, I suppose. A killer would have gotten in without being noticed because there is no chime. Of course, you could have gotten in without notice because …”
“Because I know that there is no chime,” Meredith answered. “Of course, Frederick might not have locked the door, either.”
“That’s possible,” Lyman answered.
“Lyman, can I ask a question that’s been bothering me?” Meredith asked.
“Shoot.”
“I’m no criminal lawyer, but I was arrested awfully fast. Did they even look at any other possibility?”
“I don’t think they did,” Lyman replied, shaking his head. “And I think that’s one place where we can start chipping away at this thing. They didn’t look at other possible killers. It was pretty easy to focus on you. You were the low-hanging fruit, and you look very good for it—motive, prints on the gun, seen leaving the scene. Right now, it looks open and shut. To start deconstructing that narrative, we need to find someone else plausible for a jury to focus on.”
“You’re talking reasonable doubt?” Meredith asked.
Lyman nodded.
“Reasonable doubt isn’t good enough,” Meredith pleaded. “Reasonable doubt destroys my reputation, my career, my life. I’ll be the person who got away with it. Except I didn’t do anything I have to get away with.”
“That beats prison, Meredith,” Edmund counseled.
“That it does,” Lyman added and folded one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. “Listen, Meredith, this case is almost”—he struggled for the word—“too perfect. I mean, it is so obvious you did it that I don’t buy it.”
“So you believe me?”
“Let’s say for now, despite the evidence, I’m choosing to. Listen, first we walk, then we run. I used the term chipping away for a reason. We create reasonable doubt, and we win. That’s priority number one. Now, if we can actually prove who killed your husband, then you’ll be completely exonerated.” He stood up and walked to the window and looked out over the Mississippi River to the south, deep in thought. “This gets to one thing I was thinking earlier.”
“Which was what?” Ann Hilary asked.
“To find someone else to point the finger at besides Meredith here, we’re going to need a top-flight investigator. We need someone who can pick apart the Hennepin County sheriff’s investigation. Someone who is good, who will look good on the witness stand if need be, someone with the skill that would make the Hennepin County attorney stand up and take notice.”
“Like who?” Meredith asked.
“I usually use John Biggs, but since you used him to investigate your spouse, and that’s going to be a big part of your case and theirs, I don’t know that we can use him here, which is unfortunate. He’s really quite good. We’ll have to find someone else.”
They spent fifteen minutes discussing options, and nobody really struck them as right. “I’ll have to give it some more thought,” Lyman muttered. “But we’ll need to find someone soon.”
“I have a somewhat out-of-the-box idea,” Ann Hilary suggested. “I know someone who is not working right now, who is in town, and is really good—better than anyone you could possibly find.”
Meredith looked at her mother. “Who? Who do you know?”
“Think about it.”
She read the mischievous look on her mother’s face and saw the twinkle in her eyes. “Mom, no.”
• • •
They’d both digested the Sunday morning papers with particular interest in the coverage of the Sterling murder. A reporter had an anonymous source inside the investigation and provided a fair amount of detail on the case against Meredith.
“She’s in a world of hurt,” Mac muttered, staring at his laptop screen, “although it’s still a pretty quick arrest.”
“It’s going to be a show trial,” Sally suggested, folding her paper. “At least Lyman will love it.”
“That will be months from now,” Mac answered. “I’ll want to make sure I’m not around.”
“Would it be tough for you? Would it be hard for you to watch?”
Mac sat back, stirring his coffee. Sally was asking an important question for him, and he supposed, for her as well. What kinds of feel
ings did he really still have for his ex-wife now that she was in serious trouble? “I honestly don’t know, but I don’t really want to find out, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, you don’t want to see her suffer,” Sally answered reasonably, but she wanted to hear more.
“Suffer like this?” Mac shook his head. “No, even I’m not that vindictive. However, I do appreciate the fact that Sterling ran around on her. I told her that would happen. It was entirely predictable.”
“Karma?”
“Karma is one angry bitch,” Mac replied. “But Sally, this?” He shook his head slowly and sighed, looking away. “I don’t want Meredith to spend the rest of her life in prison. I was bitter, but I wasn’t that bitter, especially the way things have worked out,” he answered, reaching for Sally’s left hand and running his thumb lightly over her engagement ring and the large diamond.
Sally smiled, now reassured. She leaned in, and he kissed her.
“She won’t get life, Mac. Lyman won’t let that happen,” Sally suggested, relaxed back in her chair now but still letting Mac hold her hand. “Lyman will take good care of her.”
“Yeah, but no matter what, her life will end up ruined.”
“Mac,” Sally replied, getting up from the table, “she has only herself to blame for that.”
Mac finished loading the dishwasher with their breakfast dishes and pans and put away the other food, drinks and condiments. They had to be at the airport at 4:00 P.M. for the flight back to Washington. That left the late morning and early afternoon for them to relax. Sally planned on doing some work. As for Mac, the Vikings were kicking off at noon against the Lions, and he planned on parking his butt on the sofa and taking it in.
The doorbell rang, and Sally yelled, “I’ll get it.”
Mac set the dishwasher to start its wash cycle. He turned around and sipped his coffee while watching the FOX football pre-game show.
“Mac, there’s someone here to see you,” Sally called from the front of the house.
He picked up his coffee cup, took a quick sip, and walked into the living room and stopped in shock. Standing in his foyer was Lyman Hisle along with Ann and Edmund Hilary.
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