“No, of course not.” I booted up my email and found Anna’s message to me. I clicked on the attachment and read.
I shook my head. The order of the court was that Judge Sanders was found to the be the father of Lindsay Reynolds. Just like Christina had told me had happened. That wasn’t surprising – Christina had told me that this had happened, so the only thing that would have surprised me about these records would have been if the Judge Sanders wasn’t found to the father of Lindsay Reynolds.
I clicked on the attachments and found the one that I wanted.
“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” I said. “The DNA test results are attached to this order, and they clearly, clearly say that Michael Reynolds was the father of Lindsay Reynolds. Clearly.” I shook my head.
What the Hell was going on? Seriously. What was going on?
“What? What are you seeing?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know what I was seeing. It was another layer, another damned layer, to this entire thing.
“Judge Perez can’t try this case,” I said. “He can’t.”
“What case?”
“The Dowling Chemical case. He can’t do it. He can’t get away with it.”
“He can’t get away with what?”
“He’s a part of the conspiracy. He is. The conspiracy to get rid of Judge Sanders.” It suddenly became clear to me. This paternity order was probably used as a blackmail device to Judge Sanders. He was either going to play ball, and find for Dowling Chemicals, or he was going to have this paternity order leaked to the world.
I leaned back in my chair. A part of me was questioning my logic. Was this all a fever dream that my brain was cooking up? Or was this really real? Was I going to go over to the Chief Judge and tell her my suspicions, only to have her throw me out of her chambers? And how did Michael fit in with any of this?
There was something at the back of my brain that was telling me that I had the smoking gun. The smoking gun that was going to tie Michael, at the very least, to the murder of Judge Sanders. But I couldn’t quite figure out what my brain was trying to tell me.
“I need to speak with the Chief Judge of the Western District,” I said. “I need to tell her what I know about Judge Perez. He can’t try that Dowling case. If he does, he’s going to find for the defendant, and all those plaintiffs, who had been hurt, won’t get a thin dime. I know it. It’s not right. It’s not right. He can’t try it. Those plaintiffs need compensation. They need medical care. The babies are going to need a lot of medical care, and they’re going to be special needs children, and they’re going to need special education. That community was hurt. The justice that they need, that they thirst for, is going to be denied. That’s not right. That’s not right. It’s not right. It’s not right. It’s not right.”
“Harper, you’re scaring me.” I could barely see Anna, even though she was standing right in front of me. She was hazy, and then it seemed that she was multi-colored, like in those psychedelic movies. I was vaguely aware that I was going into some other zone, some other reality, and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop it. I felt like I was about to take off flying. I closed my eyes, and I felt like I was flying over to the Federal Courthouse. Flying into the chamber of Chief Judge Haynes and bursting in there with my evidence that Judge Perez was as corrupt as the day was long.
My breathing came faster and faster, and the everything around me looked like it was speeding up. Like that scene in Willy Wonka, where everybody was going through the terrifying tunnel while the maniacal Willy Wonka sang a song. What was wrong with me?
THE NEXT THING I KNEW, I was in the hospital. I looked over at a man in a white coat, my senses dulled. “Where am I?” I asked the man.
“Just lay back,” he said. “The doctor is going to come and meet with you soon.”
I looked at the door, and I saw Axel coming through the door along with Albany. I didn’t know what was going on. I really couldn’t figure out what had happened.
“Mate,” Axel said, coming over to me and smoothing out my hair. “I guess that you’re conscious now.”
“Yes. I was always conscious, wasn’t I?”
“No. Anna brought you over here from your office. She said that you started speaking, well, she used word ‘gibberish,’ but she said that the words that were coming out of your mouth were unintelligible. And you kept talking about flying. She was afraid that you were going to somehow open up the window to your office and jump. So she called 911, and the ambulance came and the men gave you a sedative and brought you here. Don’t be angry with Anna. She was only trying to help.”
“Oh, God. Am I on a 72-hour psychiatric hold?” A 72-hour psychiatric hold referred to the length of time that somebody, who was judged to be a danger to herself or others, can be held in a psychiatric facility against his or her will. After the 72 hours is up, the facility can’t hold the person without consent. If they do want to hold the person without consent, they have to seek a court order.
“Yes,” Albany said. “That’s what is happening. You’re going to be here for 72 hours, but hopefully they can get everything straightened out with your meds before then and you can leave.”
I grimaced. “What do you mean, hopefully? I mean, I can’t be in here for longer than three days. I have that case to pursue.” I looked around. “Where are the girls? Where are they? They’re safe, aren’t they?”
“Relax. Sophia picked them up from school. They don’t know that you’re here. Sophia will watch them until you get out of here.”
I groaned. “How are we going to explain this away?”
Albany looked embarrassed. “We told them that you’re taking a short vacation. That you needed some time away. They seemed to understand, believe it or not.”
“Okay, then.”
Albany came over and put her hand on my shoulder. “Emma is here, too,” she said, referring to my little sister. “And mom and Brad.” Brad was my brother. “We’re all worried about you. We think that you need to take a vacation.”
“Maybe. Maybe after this case is over.”
“I think that you need to get off that case. It’s literally driving you over the bend,” Albany said.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. That case has nothing to do with why I’m here. I don’t know, the psychiatrist is going to have to talk to me, but I suspect that I’ve been dealing with undiagnosed bi-polar disorder. I’ve been manic, off and on, for weeks. Not sleeping, staying up all night on the computer, just generally feeling like I want to crawl out of my skin. But if you knew anything at all about bi-polar disorder, you would realize that I would have these same symptoms no matter what was going on in my life. Whether I was working a huge murder case or whether I was sitting around on a beach tanning my ass, I would feel the same way.”
Albany looked skeptical. “Okay. But sis, I don’t want-“
I shook my head. “I know. I know. I know. But you don’t understand. I have to get out of this place and tell the Chief Judge of the Western District about what I know. I have to get out of here.”
The doctor came in with his chart. “I need to speak with you privately,” he said. “Unless you are fine with your sister and your friend hearing. Either way.”
“Go ahead,” I said. “Go ahead and tell me what you need to tell me. I’m quite sure that my sister and…Axel…don’t mind.” I still didn’t know what to call Axel. Was he my boyfriend? We hadn’t discussed that yet.
“Okay. You have had a manic episode and I have a strong suspicion that you are suffering from bi-polar 1 disorder.”
I nodded my head. “Bi-polar 1. I know something about the difference between bi-polar 1 and bi-polar 2. Bi-polar one is the more severe one, am I correct about that?”
“Yes. But it is manageable with the right medication. I’m going to start you on a course of a medicine called Geodon. That will be added to your usual course of Prozac, which is, as I understand it, the anti-depressant that you are currently taking. The Geodon should even out you
r polarities so that you feel a better sense of equilibrium. Of course, it’s not fool-proof, so, when you leave this hospital, you’re going to have to constantly monitor how are you are feeling when you are taking this new drug.”
I nodded my head. “I know the drill. Okay, Dr. Wilson,” I said, reading his name-tag. “Go ahead and put me on this drug.”
We talked for a bit more, but I was anxious for him to leave. I was feeling embarrassed that I ended up here, even though I had a feeling that I was going to end up here, sooner or later. I also consciously knew that I shouldn’t feel embarrassed, because bi-polar disorder wasn’t something to be ashamed of. It was a disorder, just like any other disorder. Just like diabetics shouldn’t feel ashamed for taking insulin, I knew that I shouldn’t feel ashamed for taking this Geodon. Or whatever drug was going to be tried on me in the coming weeks and months. I hoped that the Geodon could help me, but I also knew that it was hit or miss with these anti-psychotic drugs.
Dr. Wilson finally left, and then Albany and Axel left, and my mother came in with Emma in tow. “Hi mom. Hi Emma.”
Mom shook her head. “Harper, you’re doing too much. You know how I worry about you anyhow. Imagine how I felt when I got this phone call telling me that you’re here.”
I looked over at Emma. She was my little sister, only 23 years old, and still in college. She was a pretty girl, red-headed like we all were, but she didn’t have as many freckles as I did. In fact, she didn’t have any freckles. She was the only one of us who could tan, too. “Are you going to lecture me, too, Emma?”
“No,” she said. “You don’t need a lecture. Mom is going to be taking over that role, as usual. But I would like to help more. If you need a baby-sitter or anything like that, I mean, when Sophia needs a break, I’ll be more than happy to come over.”
“Thanks.” I looked over at my mother. “Emma knows how to talk to me. She offers to help, she doesn’t just lecture me.”
“I’m trying not to just lecture you,” mom said. “But Harper, you’re doing too much. All these murder cases and having those two little girls at your home. You’re burning the candle at both ends.”
“But what a glorious light, huh, mom?” Edna St. Vincent Millay was one of my favorite poets, and she wrote about how burning the candle at both ends meant that she wouldn’t last the night, but would give out a beautiful light.
“I don’t consider what you’re doing to be a glorious light.” Mom always did disapprove of what I did. She hated that I defended hardened criminals. It wasn’t just that she worried about me, but it was also because she didn’t think that people who committed violent crimes deserved representation, period. She pretty much thought that they all should just fry. I tried to tell her that the United States Constitution guarantees that anybody accused of committing a felony is entitled to representation, but she always just told me that maybe that was true, but that representation didn’t have to be me.
“Mom, I’m not going to listen to this. Now, I need to get out of here, because I need to get right back onto this case I’m working. I’m really close, mom, to finding out just what happened to Judge Sanders. I’m itching to get back to it.”
Mom just shook her head and left the room. Emma and I looked at each and we both started to laugh. “I understand, Harper,” she said. “I know why you enjoy your job.”
I sighed. “I sometimes wonder what I’m doing, though, Emma. Why I represent these people. Sometimes they’re innocent, like poor Heather, but usually they’re pretty bad guys. I guess, in the end, I feel sorry for a lot of them. Most of my clients have had awful lives. The current guy, however, the one that I’m currently representing – he’s just a bad seed. He was a rich boy, a golden boy, somebody who has been giving everything and continues to be given everything on a silver platter. And yet he’s just a bad guy.”
I thought about Elmer, who, even though he was a bad guy, too, he had an excuse – he was poisoned in utero, so he never had a chance. But Michael – Michael had no excuse. Well, maybe he can plead a fancy disorder like Affluenza or some nonsense like that, but, really, he had no excuse for being a scumbag.
Brad came in next. “Hey, sis,” he said. “I never thought we’d be meeting here.” His tone was teasing and I smiled.
“Oh, Brad, it’s okay. It’s going to be much better now, really. I’m finally getting the right meds, because I finally have a correct diagnosis. I mean, you know that I’ve always suffered from depression and anxiety, but I’ve never been manic until now. But now that I have the right diagnosis, I think that I can get the right kinds of meds, maybe for the first time.”
“Well,” Brad said. “The right meds have worked for Uncle Patrick, so hopefully they’ll work for you, too.”
“Yeah, I hope so too.”
For the rest of the day, the people who loved and cared about me shuffled in and out of my room, two by two, and I was feeling better than I had for a long time. It wasn’t just that I enjoyed the company. I also felt hopeful that I would be on a more even keel. That was necessary, because, if it was the last thing I did, I was going to get to the bottom of the Judge Sanders’ murder, and I had to be mentally sharp to do that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
When I got out of the psychiatric facility, I got right back into it. When I was in the hospital, and I was alone in my room, I spent my time trying to make a flow chart of everything that I knew thus far. My mind was clearer than it had been in some time, and, unlike before, I didn’t have super clarity, but I did feel more normal than I had been feeling. I was sleeping normally, too. I felt hopeful that maybe these new meds were just what I needed to stabilize my emotions and brain.
On my flow chart, I put the names Gerald Stone, Kayla Stone, Michael Reynolds and Judge Perez. I was working on a theory, but I had no way to prove any of it. I figured that the best way to prove it would be to get one of the people on the list to flip on everyone else. Kayla, to me, seemed like the most likely candidate for that. I met her, and she seemed to be a decent person. She struck me as somebody who was a bit weak-minded.
I hadn’t met Gerald Stone, but, from what Megan Baker told me, Gerald Stone was a total bastard. As for Judge Perez – I had tried cases in front of him, so I knew him, but he was pretty high up the food chain as far as this conspiracy went, in my mind. I was going to have to concentrate on the low-hanging fruit.
I called Kayla when I got out of the hospital.
“Hello,” she said. “This is Kayla.”
“Kayla, this is Harper Ross. I need to speak with you at your earliest possible convenience.”
She was silent for a few minutes. “What do you need to speak with me about?”
“I need to speak to you about your husband.”
“I’m very sorry, but I’m very busy.”
I was expecting this. “I’ll subpoena you for another deposition. You can either come and speak with me off the record, or you can come and speak with me on the record. It’s your choice, but, either way, I need to speak with you.”
She sighed. “I can come in this afternoon. Three o’clock?”
“Three o’clock is perfect.” I had an afternoon DWI to take care of at 1:30, so I knew that I would be back at the office by 3, so meeting her then wouldn’t be a problem at all.
I hung up and called Anna. “Anna, I need something from you.”
“Sure. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”
“I need for you to find something out for me. Judge Perez was randomly assigned, by the computer, the case of Dowling Chemicals down at the federal courthouse. I need for you to find out if it wasn’t random after all. Can you do that? Can you find out if somebody hacked into the database to make sure that Judge Perez would be assigned that case?”
“I can do that,” she said. “I’ll have that information for you in about fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks.”
I had to get my ducks in a row before I presented the Chief Judge with what I had found out
. There was just no way that I was just going to let him get away with trying that case. I was going to connect him to this whole rotten enterprise if it was the last thing I did. I already knew what was going to happen, but that judge was rotten as the day was long – he was going to find in favor of Dowling, and all the people who were hurt by Dowling were not going to get a dime. Not a dime.
Fifteen minutes later, Anna called back. “You’re good,” she said. “You were right. Somebody did hack into the system to make sure that Judge Perez was assigned to that Dowling Chemical case. What does that mean?”
I sighed. “It means that the judge is dirty and in the pocket of Gerald Stone.” The evidence was circumstantial, but I put the pieces together and figured out what was going on. “Thanks, Anna. You’re the best.”
“Not a problem.”
I hung up the phone and put that issue on the backburner. I was going to have to prepare for my meeting with Kayla. The low-hanging fruit that she was, I knew that her testimony to me was going to be key. The dominoes were going to fall, starting with her.
KAYLA ARRIVED RIGHT AT 3, looking nervous. She was very pale and, when she sat down to speak with me, she kept looking around. Specifically, she kept looking at the front door. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m just a little bit freaked out. I don’t trust Gerald. I think that he might have bugged me.” She shook her head rapidly. “I hired this guy to sweep my car and my house. He even swept my purse. So far, nothing has been found.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Your house. Does that mean that you’re no longer living with Gerald?”
“That’s right.” Her blue eyes were wide and she looked towards the front door again. “I moved out two weeks ago. I’m not seeing Michael anymore, either.”
“I see. Any particular reason why you and Michael aren’t together anymore?”
She shrugged. “It just ran its course.”
This was good. This was very good. If Kayla wasn’t emotionally attached to either of the men who I suspected was behind this whole mess, then perhaps she would be willing to roll on both of them. That is, if she wasn’t scared of doing that.
Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3 Page 57
