After Anna

by Lisa Scottoline

  ‘Honey, I’m so sorry this happened. Do you want me to come over?’

  ‘No, thanks. I want to keep things as normal as possible here. I feel so terrible about Anna.’ Maggie felt tears coming back, but held them at bay. ‘She loses her father and reaches out to me and now look what happens. It’s so awful.’

  ‘I know, but you can’t help that. You didn’t do it.’

  ‘I brought her here. I thought everything would be so great.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Remember I met with her therapist? I told her how great everything was going to be. This is so shameful.’

  ‘You didn’t know. You couldn’t know.’

  ‘What if I should have? What if this has been happening with him for a long time? What if Anna isn’t the first and neither is Jordan? I’m afraid to look at his computer but believe me, I want to.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Why not? I know his passcodes. He has them on a pad.’

  ‘What do you expect to find?’

  ‘Pornography? Pictures of young girls? Emails?’

  ‘Don’t, don’t, don’t.’

  ‘What if he goes online and meets young girls?’

  ‘If he does that, he’ll have deleted the history.’

  ‘You believe her then.’

  ‘I hate to say this, but I do.’

  ‘I do too,’ Maggie heard herself say, burying her face in her free hand. Agonized, she couldn’t speak for a minute. She didn’t know if Noah had committed a crime or not. She wondered if she needed a lawyer. She wondered if she should call the police. She would handle this the best way for Anna. That was her job as Anna’s mother, especially because she had let her down before.

  ‘You still there? I should come over.’

  ‘No, really.’ Maggie’s mind reeled. ‘How can I stay married to him?’

  ‘Honey, you’re going to have to take it a step at a time. If he wants to stay married to you, he’s going to have to do what you say.’

  ‘Right.’ Maggie told herself to take control of the situation. She couldn’t let it victimize her. Anna was the victim, after all.

  ‘You can do it.’

  ‘Can you believe he would do this? To Anna? To me? To this family? He’s destroying everything, everything.’

  ‘He’ll figure it out, with professional help.’

  Maggie sighed. ‘I feel so tired.’

  ‘Go to bed. Call me if you need anything.’

  ‘I will. Thanks for everything. Love you, Kath.’

  ‘Love you too, honey. We’ll get through this. Sleep tight.’

  ‘You, too.’ Maggie pressed End, sat up, and glanced back at the house. The light was still off in Anna’s bedroom. Caleb’s light was off as well, so the second floor of the house was dark, the roof a shadowy outline against a dark sky. Clouds covered the moon, and there wasn’t a star in sight. Ambient light from the neighboring houses made a hazy glow in the air, and Maggie could hear televisions playing in other people’s family rooms.

  She wondered how many of those families had such horror under their own roofs. She read about them in the newspaper and online. She never thought she would be one. In truth, she used to judge some of those mothers. How could you not know your teenage son stockpiled guns? How could you not know your daughter was pregnant? How could you not know? Only the terrible mothers didn’t know what was happening in their own homes.

  Then Maggie realized that she had already been adjudicated a terrible mother.

  Unfit, was what the court had said. And here she was now, unfit all over again, seventeen years later, unfit, unfit, unfit.

  She looked up at the black sky without knowing why. An appeal to God? For guidance? For help? A silent prayer? For forgiveness? But all she saw was darkness. She rose on shaky knees and walked toward the house.

  Because she was a mother, and she had a job to do.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Noah, After

  TRIAL, DAY 2

  Noah straightened in his seat as the Commonwealth’s next witness was sworn in, Detective Andrew Hickok. Thomas nicknamed him Detective Peacock, and it was clear why. His dark suit was well-tailored, and his dotted tie shone like real silk. He had dark hair layered in an expensive cut around a square-jawed face with brown eyes, a straight nose, and a salt-and-pepper mustache that was carefully trimmed. Overall, Detective Andrew Hickok had the demeanor of a complete law-enforcement professional, at home on the witness stand.

  Linda smiled at the detective, her regard plain. ‘Please state your name for the record, sir.’

  ‘Detective Andrew J. Hickok.’

  ‘Detective Hickok, would you briefly tell the jury your credentials?’

  ‘Yes. I started as a patrolman with the Philadelphia Police Department, then joined the Homicide Unit of the Philadelphia Police Department. I moved to Montgomery County and joined the Detective Bureau as a detective.’

  ‘And how long have you been with the Montgomery County Detective Bureau?’

  ‘Sixteen years.’

  ‘How many homicide investigations have you participated in?’

  ‘Over a hundred.’

  ‘And did you have anything to do with the investigation of Anna Desroches’s murder?’

  ‘Yes. I was lead investigator.’

  ‘Did you go to the crime scene on the night of the murder?’

  ‘Yes, after I had obtained the warrants I thought I would need.’

  ‘And what was taking place at the crime scene?’

  ‘Patrol officers were establishing a perimeter, and Dr Kapoor and her team were with the body on the porch. She told me her initial finding on cause and manner. Criminalists from the Forensic Services Unit were taking photographs and collecting evidence from the scene, including the cars, house, driveway, and porch. In addition, a patrol officer had confiscated the defendant’s cell phone and gave it to me.’

  ‘Detective Hickok, did the cell phone provide any evidence related to this investigation?’

  ‘Yes, after I obtained the proper warrant.’

  ‘What was that evidence?’

  ‘We found a text that the defendant had sent to the victim earlier that night.’

  ‘I’m going to show you a document and ask you to please identify it for the jury.’ Linda retrieved a paper from counsel table, then placed it in front of Thomas, Judge Gardner, and then the detective, who read it and looked up.

  ‘This is the text that we found on the defendant’s phone. The text was sent at 6:55 P.M. on May 10, the night of the murder.’

  ‘Your Honor, I’d like to mark this as Commonwealth Exhibit 43.’ Linda glanced back at Thomas, who nodded.

  Judge Gardner nodded. ‘So admitted.’

  Linda signaled, and the text appeared on the screen.

  Anna, will you meet me at my house @915 tonight? I’m sorry and I want to work this out. Please don’t tell your mother.

  ‘Detective Hickok, did you consider this text relevant to your investigation?’

  ‘Yes, it was highly suggestive of guilt. The literal terms of the text, the fact that the meeting place was at the defendant’s home, and that the defendant was present on the scene at the time the victim was murdered and was the one to call 911.’

  ‘And what did you do next?’

  ‘We proceeded with our investigation through the night.’

  ‘And what, if anything, did you conclude?’

  ‘We concluded that the defendant had committed the murder of Anna Desroches.’

  ‘On what did you base your conclusion?’

  ‘We had ample evidence. In addition to the defendant’s text to the victim, we considered the existence of a PFA Petition that had been filed by the victim against the defendant on Monday, May 8, only two days before the murder.’

  ‘Detective Hickok, excuse me, why was that relevant?’

  ‘It showed that the defendant had attempted to engage in prior sexual misconduct with the victim, supporting our theory
that the defendant lured the victim to his home for another attempt at sexual misconduct, was rebuffed, and killed the victim in a fit of rage or a crime of passion, which generally occurs by strangulation.’

  ‘Did you consider other evidence to form your conclusion that the defendant had committed the murder?’

  ‘Yes, we also considered the autopsy report and the trace evidence of hair, fibers, and DNA evidence that had been collected and analyzed by the criminalists, all of which supported our theory.’

  Linda cocked her head. ‘Isn’t it true that typically, in a strangulation murder, the victim will fight back, leaving so-called defensive wounds on the perpetrator?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did the defendant have any such defensive wounds?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did that undermine your conclusion that the defendant committed the murder?’

  ‘No. Defensive wounds typically occur on the arms, and the defendant was wearing an oxford shirt with long sleeves at the time he was taken into custody.’

  Noah listened, his chest tight. Detective Hickok was coming off as smoothly credible, and Linda was preemptively asking questions that she anticipated Thomas would be asking on cross-examination. Unfortunately, Detective Hickok had an answer.

  Linda paused, head still cocked. ‘Isn’t it also true that typically, in a strangulation murder, the defendant will get the victim’s skin cells underneath his fingernails, during the struggle?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did the defendant have Anna’s DNA under his fingernails?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did that undermine your conclusion that the defendant committed the murder?’

  ‘No. We knew that he was a doctor and had access to gloves, and his text to the victim demonstrated planning, so he could have had the gloves with him.’

  ‘Detective Hickok, were gloves found on the defendant’s person when he was taken into custody?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did that undermine your conclusion that the defendant committed the murder?’

  ‘No. He could have disposed of the gloves before he called 911.’

  ‘Did you or anyone else find any gloves on the property?’

  ‘No, but because we determined that the homicide was by manual strangulation, we didn’t conduct a search, as we would have for a murder weapon. In addition, the other evidence of guilt was so overwhelming that it justified the charge.’

  ‘Did you find any fingerprints of the defendant’s on Anna’s neck?’

  ‘No, our Forensic Unit doesn’t have the capability to take fingerprints from skin or fabric.’

  ‘Detective Hickok, what did you do next in your investigation?’

  ‘My partner and I met with an assistant district attorney and presented the evidence. He determined that the evidence was sufficient to charge the defendant, and we placed him under arrest and in the morning, he was arraigned.’ Detective Hickok turned to the jury. ‘That’s a fancy word for formally charged.’

  ‘Thank you, Detective Hickok. I have no further questions.’ Linda smiled, obviously pleased, and returned to counsel table.

  ‘I have cross, Your Honor,’ Thomas said, already on his way to the stand, as Linda passed him without a glance, then sat down.

  Judge Gardner nodded. ‘Please proceed, Mr Owusu.’

  Thomas stood at a distance from the stand. ‘Detective Hickok, when you went to the crime scene, weren’t you aware that Dr Alderman had already been brought in for questioning in connection with the murder?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And weren’t you also aware that Dr Alderman had told the 911 dispatcher that he had discovered the body?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And finally, weren’t you aware that Dr Alderman was the subject of the PFA Petition?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Detective Hickok, you testified that you investigated through the night, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what time of the night did you reach your conclusion that Dr Alderman committed the murder?’

  ‘By about four in the morning.’

  ‘So you and your partner had decided, only seven hours after the crime, that Dr Alderman was guilty, isn’t that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You didn’t interview any other suspects that night, did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t seek any other suspects, did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Didn’t look for a single other suspect, did you?’

  ‘We had a prime suspect.’

  Thomas stood taller. ‘Detective Hickok, I’ll repeat the question. You didn’t look for a single other suspect, did you?’

  ‘No.’ Detective Hickok tilted his chin up, in the slightest defiance.

  ‘Do you know the term “confirmation bias,” as applied to law enforcement?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Please define the term for the jury.’

  Detective Hickok turned to the jury. ‘Confirmation bias means that once you reach a conclusion about a perpetrator, you seek facts that support the conclusion and ignore facts that do not.’

  ‘Detective Hickok, did you consider the possibility that the killer could have come from a neighboring house?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It seemed less likely.’

  ‘Less likely than Dr Alderman, that is?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But wasn’t Dr Alderman’s carriage house in view of the main house, where his landlord lived?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Wasn’t the landlord home on the night of the murder?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The landlord’s name is Scott Ropsare, is it not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But didn’t Mr Ropsare have a view of Dr Alderman’s carriage house?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So isn’t it true that Mr Ropsare could have seen Anna Desroches pull up in her car, get out, and wait on Dr Alderman’s porch?’

  ‘Yes.’ Detective Hickok blinked.

  ‘Nevertheless, you didn’t take Mr Ropsare in for questioning, did you?’

  ‘No, but I did knock on his door and speak to him. I asked him if he had seen anything unusual or suspicious, and he said he had not.’

  Thomas frowned. ‘My question was, you didn’t take him in for questioning, did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Were you aware that Mr Ropsare had a 2015 conviction for aggravated assault against his former wife?’

  Detective Hickok’s lips flattened. ‘Yes, I learned that the next day.’

  ‘But you still didn’t go back to pick Mr Ropsare up and take him in for questioning?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Because you had already charged Dr Alderman with the crime, isn’t that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Noah thought it was a masterful demonstration of confirmation bias and he wondered if Thomas would risk another question. The jurors were listening, and Noah sensed that they were getting the point.

  Thomas paused. ‘Were you aware that Mr Ropsare committed suicide six months ago, only one month after the murder of Anna Desroches?’

  Detective Hickok blinked, twice. ‘No, I was not.’

  Noah’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t known that either. He had only met Ropsare once, and Thomas hadn’t told him that the landlord had committed suicide. The jury reacted with surprise, and VFW Guy shifted forward, newly intrigued.

  ‘I have no other questions, Your Honor.’ Thomas turned and headed back to counsel table, his expression solemn. He sat down next to Noah, picked up his pen, and wrote on his legal pad:

  Boom! I didn’t tell you because I wanted your reaction.

  I got it. You’re not as good a liar as you think.

  Linda shot to her feet and hurried forward to the stand. ‘Your Honor, I have redirect, if I may.’

  Judge Gardner nodded. ‘Proceed, counsel.’

 
‘Detective Hickok, are you confident that the defendant committed the murder of Anna Desroches?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you believe that confirmation bias played any role at all in your investigation?’

  ‘No, not in the least.’

  ‘I have no further questions, Your Honor.’

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Maggie, Before

  Maggie barely slept Saturday night, but rose early on Sunday as usual, fed Ralph, and made batter for pancakes before the kids got up. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that Noah had molested Anna. She’d gone back and forth about it in her mind, all night. She remembered what he’d said, that he hadn’t done anything to Anna and whatever had happened with Jordan was unrelated. She supposed it was correct in the abstract, but it still didn’t sit right with her. Still, she couldn’t turn off her feelings for him so fast. She loved Noah, even though she didn’t know if their marriage could survive. They’d been so happy, before.

  Caleb came downstairs with a sleepy smile, in his oversized Phillies T-shirt. He accepted her explanation that Noah had gone back to the conference, and their conversation had centered on whether she should make banana or blueberry pancakes. Anna came down later with puffy eyes and bedhead, in a Congreve T-shirt and gym shorts. She said nothing about Noah in front of Caleb, and Maggie felt the two of them sharing a terrible secret throughout breakfast, which passed with silly speculation about whether SpongeBob was cute or weird-looking.

  After breakfast, Anna and Caleb went to their respective rooms, and Maggie checked on Anna around lunchtime, only to find her dozing with the laptop open and her textbooks around her. Maggie closed the door and let her sleep, then went to Caleb’s room, helped him with his homework on the book Wonder, and played apraxia Mad Libs with bandage, accident, and emergency. Caleb had backslid, but she didn’t make a point of it, and he didn’t mention Noah.

  Maggie went through the rest of the day as if she were sleepwalking, puttering in the kitchen, watering the garden, and eyeing Noah’s laptop in the family room, wondering if she should search it. She succumbed around four o’clock, logging on. She checked his browser history, which hadn’t been deleted. She scanned the sites, but none of them were pornographic, only Noah-like searches of medical websites, online banking, pollen indexes, and abdominal exercises. She checked their bank accounts, but no suspicious checks had been sent to any random escort sites, nor were there any unusual cash withdrawals. After that, she went to the basement and searched his desktop computer, but that turned up nothing pornographic, mercifully.