“There’s nothing to say. Nothing to prepare.” Finally, she looked at him, still empty. “She’s dead. My twin sister, my only hope, is gone. She dies and I go to jail. You said it yourself. Our case is over. Shayna has to testify that I don’t have anything wrong with me, you testify that I escaped your custody, even with Phoebe’s testimony we’re still screwed. Just give up.”
“You don’t have to be like this.”
“I’ve been in isolation for a week, Argus. My children are in foster care, my husband is barely hanging on, and everyone I’ve ever loved is dead. So don’t come in here with your false hope crap. I don’t want to hear it and I don’t care.”
“People need to know the truth.”
“The only truth people care about is the one that lands me behind bars.” She stood up, kicking her chair out of the way.
“Rachael,” he yelled as she walked off.
She didn’t turn to face him and she said nothing else. Hampton pounded his fists on the table, mad at her for saying what he already knew.
***
Shayna
Shayna was on the stand. This was her first time seeing Rachael since the night of the accident. She couldn’t believe how sick she looked, like she’d gone on some miracle diet that sucked fifteen pounds of life right out of her. She was weak looking, hollow.
“Ms. Steele.” Jeanna Avery stood in front of her. “Six weeks ago you convinced the court to grant a continuance. Can you tell us why?”
“I wanted to examine Mrs. Abbott. I believed she may have been suffering from dissociate identity disorder.”
“What is that?”
“It’s more commonly known as multiple personality disorder. Basically, the sufferer dissociates from reality for lapses of time.”
“How often did you see her?”
“Four days a week for the past six weeks.”
“That’s quite a long time.”
“The diagnosis is tricky. We wanted to be certain.”
“So, what did you discover?”
She sighed, wishing Rachael would just look up at her. “Mrs. Abbott does not meet the criteria for a DID patient. I do not believe she is suffering from any mental disorder.”
“You’re sure?”
“Well, it’s just one doctor’s opinion, but yes.”
“So you believe Mrs. Abbott was of sound mind the night of Blaire Underwood’s murder?”
“I do, yes.”
“I see. Now, Ms. Steele, during the time you were meeting with Mrs. Abbott were you always in your office?”
“Yes, we were.”
“So you didn’t accompany her to the hospital on the evening of January 1?”
“Yes, I did.” She could read Hampton’s angry thoughts from across the room.
“But you just said—”
“I was under the impression you were asking if, while under my care, we were always in the office. The answer is yes. On that particular night, I was not on duty. I was simply visiting an injured patient.”
“Okay, and did you or did you not tell the nurse that you’d stay with her so she’d release Mrs. Abbott’s handcuffs?”
“Well, some variation of that, I guess.”
“Yes or no, Ms. Steele.”
She sighed. “Yes. I did.”
“And did you stay with her?”
“I got called away.”
“Did you stay with Mrs. Abbott all night?”
“I didn’t, but—”
“And are you aware that on that night Mrs. Audrey Hagen was stabbed to death outside of her home?”
“Yes, I am.”
“The night that you were supposed to chaperone Mrs. Abbott, but failed to do so?”
“Yes.”
“The first night she’d been left unsupervised in over a month.”
“Is there a question here, your honor?” Hampton asked.
“Ms. Steele, were you aware of a picture that was found on Ms. Hagen’s body when she discovered?”
“No.”
Avery smiled, she held up a bag containing a photograph. She laid it on the witness stand. It still contained bloody smears that made Shayna feel ill. “Do you recognize the people in this picture?”
Chills ran down her spine. “I do.”
“Can you tell the jury what it is?”
“It’s Caide Abbott kissing Audrey Hagen.”
She passed the picture to the jury. “Does it strike you as odd, Ms. Steele, that on the one night Mrs. Abbott was unsupervised, another of her husband’s mistresses turned up dead?”
“I’d hardly call Mrs. Abbott unsupervised. She was in a hospital full of doctors and nurses.”
“Answer the question, Ms. Steele.”
“It’s convenient, yes.”
***
Hampton
Hampton watched Rachael’s hands shaking as Phoebe finished telling her story. She’d been flawless, every detail of her story lining up, all as heartbreaking as ever. The nervousness she’d displayed before was not evident once she hit the stand.
“So you’re telling us that Mrs. Abbott has a twin sister?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Hampton smiled at her. “And Ms. Moore, you realize what you are testifying to here today is a serious offense?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve gotten off free all these years. You’ve could’ve continued to keep your secret. You’d most likely be just fine the rest of your life. Why come forward now?”
“Because people need to know the truth. I can’t watch an innocent woman go to jail, leave her children motherless for a crime she’s innocent of. Not if it’s my crime that caused it.”
“So, you’re willing to face whatever consequences come of this for a complete stranger? Why?”
“I’m guilty. I did what I did and I’m willing to face my crime in order to save an innocent stranger.”
“No more questions, your honor.”
Avery approached the stand, rolling her eyes pettily at Hampton. “Ms. Moore, is there any proof, any medical record of Mrs. Abbott having a twin?”
“Well, obviously not.”
“So, we’re just supposed to believe you? A woman who, by her own admission is a criminal and a liar.”
“Objection, your honor.” Hampton chuckled. “If Mrs. Abbott doesn’t have a twin sister and this story is made up, she is not a criminal. One relies on the other. Ms. Avery’s question is moot.”
“Sustained.”
“Ms. Moore, how do we know? How can we be sure Mrs. Abbott has a twin? Are we only to rely on your word?”
“Well, you can obviously see the resemblance between the two. It’s not like it can’t be medically proven. Their DNA would be identical.”
“And if it is? Who’s to say Rachael Abbott didn’t escape jail and kill her twin to place the blame on someone else?”
“Your honor, the circumstances of Elise Moss’ death were ruled an accident. Rachael Abbott was not in the car the night her twin sister was killed and cannot be blamed for her death.”
“I’ll rephrase, your honor. How do we know it was Elise Moss who killed these people and not Rachael Abbott? Isn’t it possible that Mrs. Abbott has just found someone else to take the blame for her crime?”
Phoebe was silent.
“Answer the question, Ms. Moore.”
“It’s possible.” Phoebe sighed.
“Ms. Moore, what possible reason could Ms. Moss have for killing her twin sister’s husband’s girlfriends?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you think of any reason Ms. Moss would’ve wanted to kill two innocent women who we have no reason to believe she’d ever even met?”
“Your honor, my witness is not an expert on Ms. Moss’ life. She couldn’t possibly answer that question.”
“Overruled. Answer the question.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Can you think of any motivation Mrs. Abbott may have had to kill the women her husband w
as having affairs with?”
Phoebe looked to Hampton, her eyes screaming for help. “Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“Yes, Ms. Avery, I guess she’d have a reason.”
“Can you agree, with what you know, that she would have more reason than Ms. Moss to commit the murders?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Hampton balled his hands into a fist. The judge looked at Hampton. “You may call your next witness.”
Hampton looked to Rachael, who remained pale and uninterested. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since earlier and he was pretty sure she wasn’t even listening to the testimonies. He stood, his suit suddenly feeling too tight. “Your honor, the defense rests.”
“Very well. Ms. Avery, does the prosecution have anything to add in rebuttal?”
“No, your honor. We are prepared to present now.”
“Very well, Ms. Avery, please proceed with closing arguments.”
“Yes, your honor.” Jeanna Avery walked to the center of the courtroom, facing the jury. She wore a grim expression on her face. “On the morning of November 11, Blaire Underwood, a beautiful and well-liked young woman, woke up and went to work, like any ordinary day. She didn’t know that she’d never come home again. On the evening of January 1, Audrey Hagen’s life ended suddenly and tragically. These young women will never again smell the roses growing in their gardens, never laugh at a sitcom on TV, never speak to their loved ones, never eat a delicious piece of chocolate. They were robbed of their lives before their lives had even truly begun. Their families are grieving and there is nothing that can heal a wound that deep. I, however, believe we can ease their suffering by making sure that the monster who killed their loved ones is locked up, so that she can never put another family through this, never again end a life that isn’t hers to end. You’ve heard Mrs. Abbott’s psychologist admit that she is mentally sound, that she was of a clear mind on the night of the murder. You’ve seen the tapes where Mrs. Abbott accompanied Ms. Underwood into the room where her murder took place just moments before it did. Mrs. Abbott had motive. What is that old saying? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Rachael Abbott was a scorned woman. You’ve seen the evidence, you’ve heard the testimonies, and now it’s up to you.”
She glared at the jury. “It’s up to you to make sure the right decision is made and the killer is behind bars. After the trial today, we’ll all go home. We’ll listen to music, we’ll eat a warm meal, watch a good movie, and kiss the ones we love goodnight. Two innocent young women will never get that chance again. It’s our job to make sure their killer never does either.” She pressed her lips together firmly. Hampton could see her inner glow from his seat. She walked swiftly back to her chair, not bothering to look his way.
“Counselor.” The judge nodded at him. Hampton stood up, not wanting to look at Rachael’s empty face.
“When the trial began, I told you all that as a defense attorney we work with a lot of gray, right? Well, it seems to me, it’s the prosecution who is dabbling in gray this time. She wants you to believe that Rachael Abbott was caught on camera just minutes before the murder, yet somehow managed to beat her husband home, even though he’d left nearly an hour before she could have. She wants you to believe that she snuck out of a fully staffed hospital in order to murder Audrey Hagen and managed to get back without being caught by a member of the hospital staff or on camera, less than twenty-four hours after suffering a serious stab wound.
You’ve heard our witness testify, risking her own freedom to tell you how she kidnapped and split up twin babies at birth. A twin would explain why Mrs. Abbott was caught on camera somewhere she couldn’t have logically have been. It would explain why her DNA was found at the crime scene, why she was so willing to be seen on security cameras. A twin answers all of the questions this trial has left unanswered. No one here could possibly know what motive Ms. Moss had in murdering these young women, but we have all seen that she was here. She was with Mr. Abbott at the time of her death. For whatever reason, Ms. Moss found herself involved in Mrs. Abbott’s life, and very possibly in the lives of the women we’ve lost. In my opening statement, I asked you to look at the gray, to believe in the gray. But in this case I think I’ll ask you not to. This one is pretty black and white, if you ask me. What makes sense and what doesn’t? So I ask you only this, instead of believing that my client is capable of the magic acts it would’ve taken to pull off these crimes, look at the logical alternative. Look past what seems like a complex case, look past the gray. Look at what’s reasonable. See the black and white.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Judge Crafton
“What seems to be the problem?”
“We can’t decide, your honor. We can’t come to a unanimous decision.”
“Why not?”
Doug Potter rubbed his bald head. “She’s the deciding vote. She doesn’t think she did it.” He gestured toward an elderly woman at the end of the table. Her name tag read April.
“April? If you don’t mind me asking, what’s stopping you from deciding?”
“I just don’t think we have enough evidence, your honor,” she said bravely.
“A security tape isn’t enough for you?” Bianca asked.
“She has a twin. We can’t possibly know who was on the tape.”
“The woman’s husband is a dog. When my husband cheated on me I could’ve done the same thing. Trust me, I know what people are capable of in that situation. The girl did it,” Chantelle said.
“The twin had no motive.”
“Then why was she with the husband when she died?”
The room buzzed with arguments. Finally, Doug spoke up above the crowd. “Look, we have DNA, we have the tape, we have motive, and we have opportunity. Why can’t we just convict her and call it a day?”
“This is her life at stake. She has children. I won’t just agree with you so we can all go home. I need to believe I voted for the right reasons.”
“April needs more time. Look over everything again, re-read testimonies, do what you must. I don’t want you to make a decision that you aren’t comfortable with. If you still can’t decide, we’ll call a mistrial and set a new court date. I ask you all to open your minds and make an educated decision. I’d like to see this settled today if possible.” The judge frowned at them all.
April let out a sigh of relief, opening up a manila folder and beginning to read again.
***
Rachael
Rachael was led back into the courtroom. Argus stood up beside her as the jury and then the judge were let back in. They wouldn’t look at her. Not a single one of them. A month ago, it would’ve hurt her. Today, however, she was a stone. She’d listened to everyone telling the jury how she was evil, a heartless murderer. She’s seen Argus’ sideway glances, willing her to trust him, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t trust and she couldn’t hope. Not anymore. Everything she’d ever known was a lie. She just felt alone. Her thoughts had a sunken quality to them, like she was floating underwater or maybe drowning. She stared at her hands. She really needed to cut her nails.
“Chin up,” Argus whispered beside her. She was vaguely aware of a paper traveling from the jury to the judge, of the judge nodding. Argus was holding his breath. How long had he been doing that?
Judge Crafton spoke, she tried to focus on his words. “In the case of The State vs. Rachael Abbott on the charge of first degree murder of Mrs. Audrey Hagen, how do you find the defendant?” the judge asked.
A man near forty, wearing glasses and a button down shirt over his round belly stood up. He pushed his glasses to his nose. “We find the defendant not guilty, your honor.”
Argus heaved a sigh of relief, but Rachael didn’t feel it yet. “And on the charge of first degree murder of Ms. Blaire Underwood, how do you find?”
“Guilty, your honor.”
There was a sigh heard throughout the courtroom. Argus gasped, gripping
the table so tightly Rachael was sure it would break. Meanwhile, her head was empty. No thoughts, no feelings. Just meaningless observations. Argus smelled of coffee today. The judge’s robe had a white stain near the collar.
“Thank you. Rachael Abbott, you will be detained in county lockup while you await sentencing. Jury, you are dismissed. Bailiff, take Mrs. Abbott away.” He banged his gavel.
Argus grabbed Rachael’s arm. “Rachael?” She didn’t look at him, she couldn’t. Instead, she backed up, allowing the bailiff to place the handcuffs back on her wrists.
“Come on,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. Somewhere in the distance, Argus was yelling for her. She looked away, embarrassed and angry, as she was led once again through the door to her now certain new home.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Hampton
They say that eighteen hours without sleep is equivalent to a blood alcohol level of equivalent to being legally drunk. Argus Hampton hadn’t slept in nearly five days and he’d never been more wide awake. He’d flipped though his notes, played the coroner’s report from Elise’s autopsy, and talked to Shayna. He’d done it so many times it had grown old. He’d managed to get Shayna’s charges dropped with ease, yet he couldn’t manage to save Rachael. It was destroying him. He couldn’t rest. He couldn’t let his mind lay dormant or his thoughts would destroy him. He missed her. He knew in his heart that he’d allowed an innocent woman to go to jail and he had to fix it somehow. Somehow, he had to save her.
***
Rachael
When you’re in prison, it doesn’t matter if you’re guilty or not because you are. If you ask, no one’s guilty but no one asks. There were women here who were more terrifying than most men, some bigger than men too. Rachael was on a first name basis with every nurse in the place. She’d been stitched up twice already but she knew there’d be more. She got weekly reports on Caide, she knew that he was recovering. Freaking good for him. She couldn’t help but feel bitter. Argus hadn’t been to visit her since the trial, not that she blamed him. Everyone was better off without her it seemed. She’d talked to her children once before she was sent to prison, they had seemed happy living with Chad and Sophia, happy for the first time in so long. They deserved that. They had a house on the beach and they were making new friends. Rachael felt as if she were fading from their lives and honestly maybe that was the best thing for them. Maybe it was all for the best. Rachael would never make it out of this prison alive, but she was getting out, and it helped to know her children were safe and loved. Rachael had made up her mind that morning: she wouldn’t spend another night here. She wouldn’t spend another night alive.
If It Walks Like A Killer (The Carolina Killer Files #1) Page 30
