by Laura Snider
Kylie jingled her keys. “I think you’re going to want to see what Jacob has for you.”
Ashley stood up. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”
Kylie opened the door, and Ashley shuffled past her. Her bright orange off-brand Crocs, standard issue for all inmates, tapped against the cement floor. Ashley followed Kylie past the remaining cell blocks to the attorney-client room. Familiar faces stared at Ashley as she passed, their eyes glazed and unblinking.
Her skin crawled under their scrutiny, like she was covered in thousands of tiny spider legs scurrying around. Christopher Mason was back amongst the onlookers. His hands gripped the bars. His knuckles were black and blue. If his hands looked like that, Ashley wondered how much damage he had done to Brooke’s face this time.
Kylie opened the door to the attorney-client room, and there was Jacob, holding a large to-go coffee cup with Genie’s Diner written on the side. Jacob stood near the door, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. His eyes darted about the room nervously. His demeanor changed when he saw Ashley. He smiled and opened his arms for a hug.
Ashley’s heart skipped a beat. She could hardly believe Jacob had come to the jail on his own. He had not been inside this building for months. It was no small miracle that he was standing before her now. And he brought coffee. She loved Genie’s coffee. It was a little piece of perfection while stuck in hell.
“Hey,” Jacob said, waving his outstretched arms. “Bring it in.”
“I’m not a hugger. You know that.” She did not like touching anyone who was not family. She had never met her dad, and she hadn’t seen her sister since their mother’s funeral. Hugs were a thing of the past.
Jacob looked down at his feet. His expression was forlorn. Ashley’s gut twisted in remorse, but she still could not bring herself to hug him.
“But look at you,” Ashley said, forcing a smile. “You are here, facing your fears.”
“Well.” Jacob looked up. “I don’t have any reason to think you plan to stab me.”
“True, but baby steps.”
Jacob nodded. His gaze darted, and his shoulders shifted forward, like he was trying to make himself smaller. The walls were closing in on him. He would not last long.
“Thank you,” Ashley said, nodding to the coffee. She needed to change the subject before he thought too much. “You are a life saver. You have no idea.”
“I’ll bring you one every day.”
Ashley eyed him skeptically. “Don’t say things that you don’t mean.” It was hard enough for him to come today. She doubted he would have the energy to return tomorrow and the next day and the next day.
“I promise,” Jacob said eagerly. “I will come. And with coffee. Genie says it’s on the house. She’s in your corner. Doesn’t think you did it.”
Ashley sank onto the cold bench lining the wall. The steel bit through the thin lining of her jail jumpsuit. She cupped her hands tighter around the coffee.
“What’s wrong?” Jacob said. He mopped sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.
“It’s a lot to take in. I appreciate Genie’s support.”
Jacob nodded, his head bobbing so fast that his large cheeks jiggled. An exaggerated expression of eagerness. He was losing his nerve. He needed to get out of there.
“But I can’t trust it.”
Jacob froze. His smile dropped. “Wait, what?”
“Listen to me, Jacob. You cannot tell Genie anything about my case. Do you understand?” She paused and waited for that to sink in. “If you are going to represent me, you have to promise not to tell a soul anything.”
Jacob’s eyes slid to Ashley’s coffee. He stared pointedly. As though saying, But she’s giving you coffee.
Ashley raised the cup in the air. “This is exactly why you cannot tell Genie anything. She’s a gossip, always has been. And this coffee isn’t free. It comes with a cost, and that price is information. You cannot pay that price. My future depends on it. Do you understand?”
“What do I tell her when she asks?”
“Tell her I’m fine, and thank her for her kindness.” Ashley waved a dismissive hand. “It won’t last long anyway. She’ll stop the freebies when she realizes she won’t get anything in return.”
Jacob shuffled his feet. “But you have to trust someone.”
Ashley slammed her hand on the bench. “Don’t tell me what I have to do. Between the two of us, I think I know how to handle a criminal case. I’ve been coddling you for months. Trying to get you back to where you were before the incident with the pencil. You have no right to act like this now that the script is flipped.”
Jacob flinched. His eyes grew wide and moist. He was on the verge of tears.
Shit, Ashley thought. She had not meant to hurt his feelings. “I am trusting you,” she said, her tone softening. “That’s hard enough. Please respect my privacy. Do that, or you can leave me alone.”
Jacob blinked hard. “You don’t want Katie Mickey’s help?”
Ashley snorted. She was right back to irritated. “Are you insane, Jacob? Think about what you’re saying. You’re asking if I want a cop’s help in my defense. She’s our enemy. That’s like asking the devil for a Christmas present.”
“So that’s a no?”
“That’s a hell no. No cops. Especially Katie.” Ashley’s breathing quickened.
The mere thought of Katie forced Ashley’s body to respond in a fight-or-flight fashion. Part of her wanted to believe that Katie would not betray her, but a larger part screamed that disloyalty had always been Katie’s end goal.
“Okay. Then, what do I do?” Jacob asked.
Ashley groaned and ran a hand over her face. He means well. He means well. He means well, she repeated silently to herself. She could not lose her temper. Jacob truly was the only person she could trust.
“Seriously, Jacob?”
Jacob recoiled like she had slapped him.
“I’m sorry.” Ashley’s shoulders slumped forward. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m under a lot of stress.”
Jacob nodded slowly.
“I need you to file a motion for a bond review hearing. File a motion for mandatory discovery.”
These two motions were necessary. Ashley’s bond was currently set at one million dollars. Cash only. She needed a judge to lower it. Or else she would be sitting in jail for a long time. The second motion, the discovery motion, was a formal request for the prosecutor to provide evidence. She had to start forming her defense. There were all kinds of holes in the case. She just needed to find them and exploit them.
“Okay?” Jacob said slowly.
Ashley fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ve got forms on my laptop. Go back to the office and bring it to me. I can draft the motions.”
Jacob nodded. “I’ll do that now.” He gazed at the door, as though looking for a doorknob. “How do I…”
Ashley pressed the button to the small silver intercom. “Kylie,” she said, then waited a long moment.
There was a crackle followed by Kylie’s now-familiar voice. “Yeah?”
“Our meeting is over. Can you let Jacob out?”
“Be there in a sec.”
A few minutes passed before Kylie opened the door to retrieve Ashley. Ashley turned to Jacob. “They’ll let you out once I’m back in my cell. See you in a little while?”
“Yeah,” Jacob said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Ashley doubted he was brave enough to come back a second time in one day. It was asking a lot of him, but he was her only hope. She needed him to be strong. Kylie led Ashley past the male side of the jail. Christopher Mason pressed his body up against the bars like he had been waiting for Ashley to pass.
“Hey, Christopher,” Ashley said without warmth.
“The truth will set you free,” Christopher said.
Ashley froze, her spine stiffening. She slowly turned toward Christopher, leaning close enough that she could smell his unbrushed teeth.
Christopher shrugged and picked at a nail. “I’ll get out of here.”
“Yeah. You’ll get out, but it has nothing to do with truth and justice. You’ll get out because Brooke will post bail and claim she’s clumsy enough to fall down the stairs three times a week.”
“She is clumsy.”
“Yeah, especially when someone is always there to give her a little push.”
Christopher’s face reddened, and Ashley turned on her heel. It felt good to tell him exactly what she thought of him. She had wanted to say those words for years. She smiled to herself as she continued following Kylie back to her cell. But that happiness was short lived. Soon Ashley would be under lock and key, left alone with her ever darkening thoughts.
21
Katie
December 12th – 12:00 p.m.
Katie wanted to follow up on the jail footage, but she had to leave that to George. She was due back at the police station for an interview with Brooke Mason. Brooke had completed her jail sentence for spitting on George early with good time credit and credit for time served and been released the night before. It didn’t take long before Brooke’s husband, Christopher, had assaulted her again, but this time Brooke had decided to cooperate with Christopher’s prosecution.
Katie had not been the arresting officer, but she didn’t mind taking over the investigation. Christopher was a potential suspect in Von Reich’s murder, but he refused to talk to law enforcement. If Brooke was willing to discuss her husband’s assault, she might also agree to talk about Christopher’s whereabouts during Von Reich’s murder.
Brooke showed up right on time—noon on the dot. Katie was waiting for her at the front door. She ushered Brooke down several winding hallways and motioned for her to enter the interview room. The room was sparsely furnished, containing a large table with ten rolling chairs surrounding it.
“Please,” Katie said, motioning to the chair closest to the door, “have a seat.”
The suggested seating was intentional. Brooke was nervous. Her eyes were wide and shifty, like a deer searching for predators. Brooke was poised and ready to run at any sign of danger. Katie thought Brooke might feel more comfortable if there was nothing standing between her and the exit.
Brooke nodded gratefully and sat down.
Katie sat across from her. “So, you had a bit of a rough night,” Katie said. She produced a pen and a small spiral notebook from her pocket and placed them on the table.
Brooke nodded. She kept her eyes downcast and her shoulders hunched forward. Low self-esteem. It was typical of domestic victims.
“It looks like you have quite the shiners there,” Katie nodded toward Brooke’s face. Both of her eyes were black.
“I went to Brine County Medical Center this morning. My nose is broken.”
Katie nodded. Black eyes were common with a broken nose. “What about your neck there?” A welt ran all the way across Brooke’s neck, thin as a switch and an angry red color.
Brooke’s hands came up to her neck. A reflex. She’d spent so many years hiding her injuries. “Oh, this.”
“Did Christopher do that, too?”
Brooke chewed her lip, then nodded.
Katie’s blood boiled. She wanted to march straight over to the jail and throttle Christopher. But she could not. That was not her job. Her job was to listen, and Brooke needed to tell her story.
“Let’s take a step back, okay?”
Brooke nodded.
“The 9-1-1 call came in at two a.m., and I know what happened after that.”
Katie had already read through the arresting officer’s notes. They were brief, but he covered the gist of things. Christopher had punched Brooke multiple times in the face. She fell to the ground, and he wrapped a cord from a phone charger around her neck, strangling her. Brooke kicked him in the balls hard enough to make him double over in pain. It gave her time to grab her phone and call the cops. Christopher ran on foot once he knew law enforcement was on the way. The arresting officer picked him up a half mile from the house.
“What I don’t know is what caused the fight.”
Brooke swallowed hard and nodded. “Christopher left our house at six thirty last night. I was upset. I didn’t want him to. I’d just gotten out of jail less than an hour earlier.”
“That would be December eleventh?”
“Is today the twelfth?”
Katie nodded.
“Yeah. It was the eleventh. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I followed him. I knew he was meeting her again. Like he always does.”
“Meeting who?” Katie thought she knew, but she wanted Brooke to say it.
“Erica Elsberry. We went to high school together. All three of us. But Christopher hasn’t had nothin’ to do with her since we graduated. Until a couple of weeks ago when they started meeting at Mikey’s Tavern.”
Katie scribbled a note. Two potential suspects meet daily at location body found. Coincidence? She thought not.
“I didn’t think anything of it at first, but then I got to wonderin’. What’s he doing? He never used to go to Mikey’s Tavern. Why every night now? So I started following him.”
Katie nodded again, but she kept silent. She did not want to interrupt the flow of Brooke’s story.
“He has been getting there about seven p.m. Erica Elsberry is always there. I know because I watch through that small window at the side of the building. It gives a good look at the whole bar area. Christopher goes in and sits at Erica’s table. It’s been that way every single time.” She paused, “I mean, I don’t know about the time I was in jail, but I bet it was the same then, too. Erica is probably the reason he wouldn’t post my bail. I know they are having an affair; I just know it.” Brooke covered her face with her hands and began to sob.
Katie froze. She did not know what to do. She had never been the comforting type.
After a few moments, Brooke’s tears slowed to a trickle.
“Brooke,” Katie said, “are you certain about these dates and times?”
If they were accurate, it would place both Erica and Christopher at Mikey’s Tavern on the night of Von Reich’s murder.
“Yes.”
“Was Arnold Von Reich there at the same time as Erica and Christopher?”
Brooke nodded. “Every time up until he croaked.”
Katie’s heart jumped. This could be the key. “Did you ever see Erica or Christopher approach Von Reich?”
Brooke shook her head. “No. They both seemed to watch him, but they didn’t talk to him or nothin’.”
“What about Victor Petrovsky? Was he ever at Mikey’s while they were there?”
“Yes,” Brooke said. “Once. A couple of nights ago. That was when I was in jail, but Christopher said somethin’ ’bout the pedophile showin’ up when nobody wanted him around.”
“December tenth into December eleventh?”
“I think that’s right.”
“All right,” Katie said. It was not a smoking gun, but it could end up turning into something significant.
She had what she needed from Brooke on Von Reich and Petrovsky, so it was time to steer the interview back to Brooke’s assault. “Was Christopher at Mikey’s Tavern last night before he assaulted you?”
“No,” Brooke said, her lip wobbling. “I don’t know where he went. I waited my usual ten minutes before following him, but he wasn’t at the bar. I drove all around town, looking for his truck, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.”
“How long were you out looking for him?”
“Hours,” Brooke said, wringing her hands. “I came back home at eleven p.m. and waited up. I wanted to catch him right when he walked through the door.”
“When did he come home?”
“One thirty in the mor
ning.”
“On December twelfth? This morning?”
“Yeah. And he was wearin’ something different.”
Katie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that he was wearin’ a black T-shirt and jeans when he left, and he came back in a blue plaid shirt and a lighter pair of jeans.”
“So.” Katie chewed on the end of her pen. “He changed his clothes. Why do you think he did that?”
“To get Erica’s smell off him. She wears all that perfume, you know. Always has. Even in high school. She’d have half the senior class coughing and sneezing just by walking down the hall.”
“Okay,” Katie said, but there was another very good reason he would need a change of clothes. Like blood splatters. “So what happened next?”
“I confronted him. That’s when he attacked me and did this.” She gestured to her broken face.
Katie nodded. “Well, thank you, Brooke, for sharing your experience with me. I know it was hard.”
Brooke nodded, tears leaking from her eyes.
“I want you to know that I am here for you anytime. Day or night.”
Brooke nodded again.
“I think that’s all the questions I have for you about your husband, but I do have one unrelated question.”
“Okay,” Brooke said.
Katie produced a photograph. It was a still image from the December 9th jail footage between the person using the alias Neiman and Victor Petrovsky. She had brought it to the interview on a hunch, but now she was glad that she had. Brooke had known Erica Elsberry most of her life. She was in a better position to make a positive ID than either Katie or George.
Katie slid the picture across the table to Brooke. “I know it’s a grainy photograph, but do you know who this is?”
“Erica,” Brooke said without hesitation.
“Are you sure?”
“I swear. Cross my heart.” Brooke made a crossing motion across her chest.
“How do you know?”
The still image was from the portion of the tape that showed the person standing with her back partially to the camera.
Brooke pointed to a black smudge on the back of the person’s arm. “That’s a tattoo. Erica got it a couple months back. She’s been showin’ everyone. It’s her kid’s birthday.”