“The latter, but it worries me all the same. I don’t know this Sam. It’s the first I’ve ever heard of him. My mother was familiar with Eli, and Eli didn’t seem to be violent. What if Sam is? What if that’s the only reason why he exists - to kill people who hurt Jack?”
Axel dug into his baked potato and took a sip of water and paused. He was thinking about my question, apparently, because he had a look on his face that told me that he was deep in thought. “Okay, that’s interesting. Go on, though. Tell me your theory on why it is Jack would kill Father Kennedy, if this alter, Sam, only comes out to kill people who hurt Jack? That would mean that Father Kennedy hurt Jack somehow, right? Yet Jack claims that he never met Father Kennedy. That doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
“Oh, but Jack did know him. That’s the other piece of important information I got from Steven – he told me that Jack apparently knew Father Kennedy before he was abducted by Jackson Heaney. The reason why I know this is because Jack, who was Mick at the time, introduced Jackson Heaney to Father Kennedy, and Jackson fell in love with the Father. So, Jack must have known Father Kennedy before the age of 11. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to introduce Jackson to the Father in the first place.”
I took another sip of my water. “And you make a good point - Jack says that he never met Father Kennedy, yet he did. That must mean that he blocked out memories of Father Kennedy. That looks bad, too - why would he block out those memories?”
“The plot thickens.” He nodded his head. “But don’t jump to conclusions, there, mate. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just because there have been so many priest scandals through the years doesn’t mean that something happened between Jack and Father Kennedy. I know that makes the most sense, but I wouldn’t make that conclusion. You need to do some more background research on Father Kennedy and see if anybody has accused him of anything before you think that Jack was molested by Father Kennedy, which would cause him to lose it and kill him.” He cut into his steak. “And don’t worry about the fact that Jack blocked out memories of Father Kennedy. He probably didn’t block the memories, so much as it was so long ago and those memories have faded. Do you remember everyone that you knew at the age of 11?”
“Good point.”
I didn’t even have to explain to Axel what I was thinking. He already knew. He was smart enough to connect the dots in my mind, and I loved that about him. “You’re right. I do need to find that out. Because, I admit, that was the theory that popped into my head when I found out that Jack knew Father Kennedy before he was abducted. I’m almost embarrassed that I’ve fallen for that stereotype.”
Axel nodded his head. “The pedophilia scandal only implicated a small, tiny minority of priests, but, since the media focused so much on it, it seemed like every priest in the country is guilty of molesting children. That’s not fair, so I’m glad that you’re going to not jump to that conclusion and wait for the facts to reveal themselves. Which they will.”
“I know.” I nodded my head. “I know they will.”
“Okay. Now that I’ve hopefully gotten you off that track, you can focus on trying to find the alternative suspect for this murder. Now, let’s try to figure this out. Who do you know who knows about Jack’s other personalities? About Jack’s alters? That’s a good place to start.”
I nodded my head. “In what way?”
“Well, now, let’s see. You have three theories on this case, right?”
“Right. One is that Jack did it. The second is that Jack walked in on the person killing the priest and that made him pass out from shock. The third is that Jack was sitting in the rectory, minding his own business, when the killer came in, killed the Father and drugged Jack, before Jack would have been able to see who it was. In other words, the killer was stealthy and he drugged Jack and then killed the Father.” I sighed. “Unfortunately, there was no tox screening done on Jack when he was arrested. I wish that Jack would have called me earlier, because I would have demanded that one be done on him.”
“Okay,” Axel said. “Let’s try to game out a fourth scenario. There’s somebody out there who knows about Jack’s disorder. Knows that Jack loses memory and time because he has these alternative personalities who make themselves known. That person knew that they could take advantage of that. That person knew that pinning the murder on Jack would be easy to do because Jack had gaps in memory. That person also knew that Jack would go into an alternative personality because of the stress of seeing Father Kennedy killed in such a way. That person knew Jack’s precise vulnerabilities, and he or she elaborately planned this murder in such a way that it would look like Jack was guilty.”
He continued on. “In other words, this is a person who was planning this murder for the past five years. They had their patsy all along, and it was just a matter of making that patsy unstable enough to pin this murder on him.”
“Well, in your scenario, that person also had to have it in for Jack. This murder was brutal, and there wasn’t a doubt that it was a murder, and Jack was framed. That would mean that this person also wanted to specifically make sure that Jack was the one who fried for the murder. That makes sense, right?”
Axel nodded his head. “That’s what I was going to get at next. But, yes, my theory presupposes that the criminal also wanted to get some type of revenge on Jack. You’re absolutely right about that.”
“Well, that makes your theory much more complicated than any of mine. Under my theories, the person who killed Father Kennedy didn’t have something against Jack. It was just that Jack was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Under your theory, the culprit absolutely did have something against Jack.”
“Right. The person not only had something against Jack, but he or she also knew about Jack’s DID. If you can find that person – the person who hates Jack and knew that he was vulnerable – then you just might find your man. Or woman.”
I tapped my fingers on the table and took another sip of water. Axel did one thing – he focused my mind on a different angle. The person who killed Father Kennedy might have wanted the Father dead and Jack, specifically Jack, to pay for it. It was an interesting theory and it was better than my other theories, because it made me realize that I was going to have to look for the intersection. Before, when I thought that the person who killed Father Kennedy didn’t even know Jack, but Jack was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it was going to be extremely difficult to try to find the real culprit. A needle in a haystack. But now that there was possibly an intersection, I might be able to narrow it all down.
I narrowed my eyes. “Well, this is interesting. Very interesting. I’m going to have to think about that.” I put my hands on Axel’s. “Thank you. You can always help me see outside the box. I mean, it’s still going to be tough to figure this out, but less tough than before. Much less tough than before.”
“I’m glad that I could help,” he said with a smile. “Now, if we could only figure out Abby’s situation with that sleazy bloke James.” He shook his head. “Who would have thought. I actually kind of liked that kid. Now he goes and does something like this, and I want to smash his little punk face in.”
“Me too. Me too.”
We talked for the rest of the meal about other things. The entire time, though, my mind was focused on what Axel had said before. Look for somebody who had it in for Jack and for Father Kennedy. Look for that intersection. That will be your murderer. And then, the hard part – trying to sell a jury on your theory. Trying to sell a judge on it, so that he lets you introduce evidence about it.
It was still an uphill battle, to be sure. But there might be a light at the end of a tunnel.
I only hoped that that light wasn’t an oncoming train.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
That Monday morning was my first pre-trial conference on Jack’s case. I went to pick him up at my mom’s house, not knowing who I was going to be talking to. I had to hope that it was Mick, because Jack, more and more, was acting bewildered and depressed
. I didn’t want the trial judge, Judge Greene, to even suspect that there was something mentally off about Jack. Mick managed to ace the psychological examination about whether Jack was fit for trial. I didn’t know if Jack could do the same.
I saw him sitting on a chair on the front porch and I felt relieved. He was wearing his glasses, his leg was crossed like a woman’s, and his right hand was dangling while he drank a glass or water with his left. “Hey, doll,” he said to me with a wave. “It’s showtime, huh?”
I smiled. “Hi, Mick. Yep, showtime. You ready for this?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be. Which is to say, let’s get the show on the road. I’m dying for a cocktail, and it wouldn’t do to get stinking drunk before my big court date.” He rolled his eyes. “And if you had to stay here with Claire, you would know why I’m dying for a cocktail, love. That woman is standing on my last nerve.”
“Oh, I know. But she means well. Never forget that.”
“I won’t.” He stood up and put on a sweater and called through the open screen door. “Claire, I’m going to court now with Harper. I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Okay,” mom called from inside the house. She appeared at the open door and wagged her finger at me. “You be careful in court today. We don’t want Jack to be locked up, so we don’t want that judge to find that he’s not fit to stand trial.”
“I know the drill, mom.”
She nodded her head. “I know you do, honey. I just…” She shook her head. “I have faith in you.”
“I know.”
At that, Mick and I walked to my SUV, which was parked on the street.
I loved the neighborhood where mom lived. It was an older neighborhood, but not as old as mine – the houses here were built in the 1940s, judging by the architecture, which meant that the trees were all mature and the houses were small with wooden floors and porches. Mom’s house was built bungalow style – one level of living area, with an attic with pitched ceilings. Jack was staying in the attic, which mom fixed up, because he wanted his privacy and living in the bedroom next door to mom just wasn’t working out.
“So, what’s with the sweater?” I asked him. Mick had linked arms with me as the two of us walked to my SUV, and he started to skip.
“Oh, honey, you know how you don’t know how cold it’s going to be in that courtroom. Sometimes they turn the AC up so high, I freeze. I absolutely freeze.”
“Good point. I guess I never think about it, because I’m always in a suit.”
“Yes, about that, doll. Don’t you have a personal stylist or a personal shopper or something? Because, I hate to tell you, but you need it. You have to have a bit of flair when you’re addressing those juries. A pop of color certainly wouldn’t hurt. I think that we need to go down to The Plaza after court and find you a nice canary yellow bag. That would certainly brighten up those grey and navy suits that you love to wear so much. Or, better yet, let’s find you a pair of red pumps. That would look divine with what you’re wearing.”
I rolled my eyes. First Heather, now Jack. What was it with them criticizing my clothes? Yes, I wore grey and navy a lot. For this court appearance, I wore my grey pantsuit. It wasn’t out of style at all – I just bought it at Nordstrom’s. The legs were slightly flared and the jacket was fitted. I wore a sleeveless turtleneck underneath it in taupe. My shoes were also taupe, as was my bag. I always went for classic and it never steered me wrong.
“Tell you what, Mick, I’ll buy some colorful scarves,” I said. “But I would feel like a hooker if I wore high-heeled red stilettos.”
“Whatever, love. Trust me, you could use some color. But I’m going to shut up now. After all, the only color I might be wearing for the rest of my life is going to be hideous orange.” He shuddered. “Yuck.”
I opened the door and he sat down, and I went over to the driver’s side. “Now, Jack, you’re not going to be wearing hideous orange. Not if I have anything to say about it. Which I do, of course. I have everything to say about whether or not you end up in an orange jumpsuit.”
He sighed. “Well, I can tell you one thing, doll. If we end up in prison, I’ve decided that I’m just going to stay out and not let Jack come out anymore. He’s pretty strong right now. He’s got a strong will, even if you don’t really see it so much. But if he gets sentenced to prison.” Mick made a slashing motion with his hand across his neck. “He’ll be so messed up that there won’t be a problem with my getting out. It’s going to be tough for me to live that way, but, trust me, love, I can handle such a thing much better than Jack can.”
I nodded my head as I focused my eyes on the road. “That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Jack looked at his hands and frowned. “Don’t be afraid of that, doll. Don’t be. We’ll be okay, no matter what. Who knows, I might have a little bit of fun with those burly prison boys. I’ve always liked a tatooed man, you know. Always.” He sighed. “Like that Father Mathews. God, what a dream that man is.”
I heard the name “Father Mathews,” but it didn’t register with me. I was too busy concentrating on the road, because, for some odd reason, there was a traffic tie-up and I was anxious about getting to the courthouse on time. “Dammit,” I said. “Why is it that there is always a tie-up when you’re running late?”
“We’re running late?” Mick asked mildly. “What time are we supposed to be there?”
“1:30.” I looked at the clock and saw that it read 1:10. I shouldn’t have cut this so fine. That was always an issue with me – running late to court. Ordinarily, if there was a docket situation, it would be fine. I would just call the clerk and explain, and they would put my case at the end of the docket. But for a pre-trial conference, you pretty much had to be on time.
Finally, the cars started to move, but I didn’t relax. It was going to be tight, trying to get to court on time. That was the last thing that I wanted. I wanted to be on a good footing with Judge Greene. It was bad enough that I drew Vince again as the opposing prosecutor. Granted, he helped me with my Heather case, which meant that he wasn’t a total bad guy, but I hated his show-boating. He was also super-aggressive with cross-examining witnesses, and I was afraid that he was going to break down Jack so much that he would turn into somebody else right before our eyes. I could just imagine what would happen if he cross-examined Mick, assuming that Mick was the one who took the stand, and freaked him out so much that violent Sam came out. It would be even worse if Jack himself was on the stand, because Jack was sure to go into one of his alters, and it might not be a nice alter at all.
“Relax, Harper. The judge will wait.”
“No, he won’t. Pre-trial conferences are slotted in. If we’re late, we lose our slot, and the judge is going to be pissed.”
“Let him be. He can cool his jets.” Mick shook his head. “Everybody’s always in such a hurry these days. Go, go, go, go, go. That’s all that anybody ever thinks about.”
“Well, that’s what we need to think about right now.” I saw the courthouse come into sight and I prayed that I was going to be able to find a parking spot fairly close.
When I got to the parking lot that was closest to the courthouse, I knew that my prayers were answered. I found a spot right away and parked in it. “Come on,” I said to Mick as I looked at my watch. “Let’s move.”
“Okay, okay. I’m dancing as fast as I can here.”
I was galloping towards the courthouse, as fast as I could go in my three-inch heels, and Mick was close behind me. We got to the entrance, and I showed my ID while Mick went through the metal detector after taking off his watch and depositing his phone in the white tub that went through the machine.
“I don’t know why we have to do all that,” he whispered to me after he got through the metal detector. “I mean, what do they think my phone is, some kind of tiny bomb?”
“Don’t say the word bomb,” I whispered. “Not even in jest.”
“Whatever.”
The elevat
or arrived and we got on it with about twenty other people. I rapidly walked towards the courtroom, and I went through the massive wooden doors. I felt slightly winded as I saw that I arrived right at 1:30 on the dot.
“Hey, Harper,” Vince said. He was standing right in front of the bench, apparently chatting with Judge Greene before I got there. “Glad you could make it. You haven’t been returning my calls about this case. I suggest that you start taking my future calls.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ve been busy. I haven’t received any offers from you, or any discovery, so I didn’t want to entertain anything until I get something from your side.”
“Hello, Ms. Ross,” Judge Greene said kindly. “Are you ready for this pre-trial conference?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to compose myself. I hated running late, because it usually ended up putting me in a bad frame of mind for the court appearance. It started it out on a bad foot.
“I see you have your client here,” Judge Greene said, gesturing towards Mick. “Mr. Calhoun, please approach.”
Mick walked slowly through the small wooden doors that separated the restricted area from the audience area and went up to take his place next to me. “Thank you, your honor.”
I noticed that his voice was weird. It didn’t sound like Mick and it didn’t sound like Jack. My heart stopped briefly as I wondered if somebody else had taken over, but then I saw Mick wink and smile at me and I let out my breath.
I wanted Sam or Eli to come out, but not like this. Not when I wasn’t ready for it. I had prepared Mick for this court appearance. The other two alters would be too much of a wild card.
I suddenly realized why Mick’s voice sounded weird, though. It was as if he was trying hard to sound masculine and straight. It sounded like somebody was purposely trying to affect a different intonation in their voice – like when a woman does an imitation of a man or vice-versa. It sounded unnatural, in other words.
Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3 Page 81
