Whatever It Takes 2

by Christy Reece

  This whole ordeal was wearing her sister down. Strawberry-blond hair, once lustrous and thick, was now dull, lifeless. Blue eyes the color of a cool, crisp October sky had lost their light. Though the Callahans were naturally pale, Alice’s color was an unhealthy pallor. She looked the complete opposite of the bubbly, outgoing young woman Kathleen remembered.

  “The prosecution rests, Your Honor.”

  She jerked her eyes away from Alice and concentrated on the proceedings. By the smug glint in the DA’s eyes, he believed he had proven his case beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  It did look bad—no one would deny that. Alice’s fingerprints had been on the brandy decanter and glass. The poison that had killed Frank Braden had come from the decanter. If that had been the only thing, perhaps the crime wouldn’t have looked so heinous, so intentionally vile. Not by anyone’s standards had Frank Braden been a good man, and many people, including Kathleen, believed he’d gotten what he deserved. But the post-mortem throat slicing, eye gouging, and severed penis looked like the act of a psychopath.

  Alice swore she had done none of those things, including poisoning the brandy. She’d admitted to pouring Frank the drink and watching him collapse, but she claimed she’d run out of the house right after and had done nothing more.

  Kathleen believed her. Unfortunately, no one else did.

  There had been no sign of forced entry, and to add to her appearance of guilt, instead of calling the police, Alice had stolen one of Frank’s cars and left.

  Driving for fifteen hours straight, she had shown up at Kathleen’s door in Denver, Colorado, with nothing more than her purse. Those were the actions of a vulnerable, panicked person, not a cold-blooded murderer.

  Kathleen knew her sister. Yes, Alice had made mistakes. She trusted too easily and too often took the easy way out, but she wasn’t a bad person, and she was most definitely not a killer.

  Because she believed in her sister, Kathleen had persuaded Alice to call the police and turn herself in. She had been sure it was the right thing to do—that justice would prevail. But now, Kathleen couldn’t stop the doubt, the nagging suspicion that maybe she should have just grabbed Alice and headed out of the country. Had she made the wrong decision once again?

  If only Frank Braden had never entered Alice’s life. The man had been older and much too worldly for her innocent sister. He had charmed, wined and dined her, bought her pretty things, and made promises he never intended to keep. Alice had been dazzled by the money and gifts, and by the time she’d wanted out, it had been too late. He had used her in the worst way possible.

  Now that the prosecution had rested, the real truth could be revealed. Tony would be calling expert witnesses, a psychologist who specialized in Stockholm syndrome, other women whom Braden had used and abused, as well as a former high school friend of Alice. All of them would cast doubt on the prosecution’s claim. That no way in hell had Alice Callahan murdered Frank Braden.

  But it would start with the one person who knew Alice better than anyone else. Believed in her above all others.

  “The defense calls Kathleen Callahan.”

  Kathleen stood. Head held high, posture perfect but relaxed, she gave no indication that she was the least bit worried. Her heart, soul, her very being, was certain of her sister’s innocence. She just had to convince twelve strangers of that fact.

  Even though she walked slowly, calmly, she knew her slight limp was noticeable. The accident had been eighteen months ago, and she had completely recovered. However, when she was tired, her ankle had a tendency to ache. Her low-heeled shoes were not only for a serious and competent appearance, but also gave her the additional support she needed. Unfortunately, exhaustion was winning out, and her ankle ached like a sore tooth.

  She stepped up onto the stand, and as she took the oath to tell the truth, Kathleen let her eyes roam the jury. They looked average and ordinary. Did they realize they held the fate of two lives in their hands? She and her sister only had each other. She would not, could not, fail.

  Kathleen made her voice strong and true as she vowed “To tell the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”

  Tony started slow, lobbing softball questions at her, giving her a chance to overcome her nervousness.

  This wasn’t new territory for Kathleen. As a security specialist, she had testified in court several times. The legalese was familiar, the procedure no mystery. A trial had a rhythm all its own, the courtroom held an ambience she’d always found comforting. Here, justice was served. Here, life and death decisions were made. She believed in the law, in the right and wrong of things. She had to trust that the justice system would not fail her sister.

  Tony asked about her relationship to Alice, where Kathleen lived, what she did for a living. Tense muscles loosened, and she felt herself settle into a confident and comfortable rhythm. She could do this.

  The questions became more intimate…personal. Kathleen valued her privacy—sharing details about her life, past or present, was most definitely not in her comfort zone. Alice was the outgoing, cheerful one. Kathleen was the serious, responsible one. But for Alice, she would gladly reveal everything, down to her unimpressive bra size, if that would help.

  The questions became even more personal and direct, but Kathleen hung in there. No, she and her sister hadn’t always lived together growing up. Explaining why wasn’t easy, but hopefully she managed well enough that the jury understood that their father had been a loving man but had made some mistakes. Because of that, he’d served time in prison, and she and Alice had lived separately in various foster homes.

  Kathleen was grateful that Tony didn’t ask specific questions about those dark days. They weren’t pertinent to what was happening now, but when any kind of reference was made, her stomach always twisted into knots.

  When he moved on to asking questions about their father, the tight muscles in her body loosened. Even though Tony didn’t ask outright, she was glad she was allowed the opportunity to explain that their father was given an early release from prison in exchange for working for the government as a security consultant. Because of that, Daniel Callahan had been able to be reunited with his family.

  Kathleen appreciated the way Tony maneuvered the questions to show both she and Alice in the best light. What she liked even more was that the prosecutor hadn’t made the slightest objection to any of the questions or Kathleen’s answers.

  The instant Tony said he was finished with his questions, she tensed up again. The prosecutor, Arnold Sims, stood, his long thin body unwinding from his chair like the uncoiling of a snake. The pitiless look in his eyes was a clear indicator that the soft, easy questioning had ended.

  “Miss Callahan, how old were you when your sister was born?”

  “Nine.”

  “And what happened to your mother?”

  “She died giving birth to Alice.”

  “So your father had a nine-year-old and an infant to raise by himself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Miss Callahan, isn’t it true that your father placed much of the responsibility of raising your sister on you?”

  “I helped a lot. Yes.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking. Isn’t it true that you basically raised Alice?”

  Thankfully, Tony interrupted. “Your Honor, I fail to see what relevance this has on the case.”

  “Mr. Sims?” the judge said.

  “Goes to the instability of the accused, Your Honor. Prosecution will show the defendant’s unstable home life led to her poor choices as an adult.”

  “Very well. I’ll allow it but tread lightly, Mr. Sims. Answer the question, Miss Callahan.”

  Satisfaction gleaming in his eyes, Sims turned his attention back to Kathleen.

  Though the term unstable home life carved a wound in her heart, Kathleen answered honestly. “Much of the responsibility for Alice’s care was left to me.”

  “Why is that, Miss Callahan?”

  “My father needed t
he help.”

  “Isn’t it true that you handled your sister’s care because your father was too busy breaking into businesses and homes, being a thief? A criminal?”

  Tony’s voice rang out. “Your Honor, we’ve already established that Daniel Callahan broke the law and served time in prison. Not only did he pay his debt to society, but he served his country by working for the government.”

  “I agree, Mr. Burton. Objection sustained. Move on, Mr. Sims.”

  “Very well, Your Honor.”

  But the satisfaction was still there. The seed of doubt had been planted in the jury’s mind. A father who’d broken the law, served time in prison. A child raised by another child. An unstable childhood had produced a cold-blooded, murdering adult.

  “Miss Callahan,” Sims said, “is it true that you and your sister, Alice, are estranged?”

  Grateful to move on, Kathleen said, “No, sir, that is not true.”

  “Let me phrase my question a little better. Isn’t it true that until she murdered Frank Braden, you had not spoken to your sister in years?”

  That was an impossible question to answer. If she said yes, it would appear that she believed Alice had killed Frank. If she said no, then she would be lying. When Alice had shown up at her door that night, almost seven months ago, it was the first time in over two years that she had seen or spoken to her sister.

  Thankfully, Tony jumped up and objected to the question. The prosecutor’s smug smile when he asked again, rephrasing the question, fooled no one. Again, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. More doubts had been sown.

  Kathleen answered the rephrased question. “Alice and I drifted away from each other, as families sometimes do. It doesn’t mean I stopped loving her or thinking about her often.”

  “But isn’t it true that you and she had a rift?”

  “We’ve had our share of arguments. All sisters do.”

  “But I want to know about the last argument you had with her. Where she told you to stay out of her life, and you told her that you were through with her reckless, irresponsible ways.”

  Sims glanced down at a piece of paper as if reading from it. “You said, and I quote, ‘Don’t come crying to me when your life turns to shit, and you screw up beyond all hope.’”

  No need to wonder how he could recite the statement verbatim. When she’d hurled those ugly words at her sister, they’d been in a crowded room, at Alice’s twentieth birthday party. Alice had just informed her she was dropping out of college. Kathleen had been stunned.

  After working so hard to get Alice into a decent college that would take her with her unimpressive GPA, Kathleen, for once, hadn’t bothered to soften her words. Dozens of people had heard her. Every word condemned Kathleen, and she wanted to crawl under her chair in both regret and embarrassment. It didn’t matter that Alice had messed up time and again. She was her sister. Kathleen should never have abandoned her.

  “I spoke rashly, without thought.”

  “Yet isn’t it true that you hadn’t talked to your sister in years? Until she showed up on your doorstep, after, using your own words, ‘screwing up beyond hope’?”

  “Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Sims is leading the witness.”

  “Since the witness has admitted that those were indeed her words, I’ll allow it. Overruled.”

  “My sister came to me because she was scared. She knows I will always be there for her. No matter what.”

  “Even when she screws up beyond all hope?”

  “Your Honor, this is getting ridiculous,” Tony snapped.

  “Continue with your questioning, Mr. Sims, and cease the editorializing.”

  “My apologies, Your Honor.” The DA pinned her with those mean eyes again. “What caused the rift between you and your sister in the first place?”

  This was the question she had dreaded. She had known she’d have to address it, but that didn’t make it any easier to answer.

  “Alice and I had different interests.”

  “And that caused you to become angry? What exactly were your sister’s interests that you didn’t share?”

  “I was too focused on myself. On my career. I—”

  “And what was your sister focused on? Selling herself to the highest bidder?”

  Tony jumped to his feet and sputtered, “Your Honor, that’s…that’s outrageous.”

  “Overruled. Sit down, Mr. Burton. Since it’s been established that the defendant was indeed a prostitute, the question is a fair one.”

  “No. My sister was not selling herself, and she most certainly was not a prostitute,” Kathleen spat the words. “Alice was a victim of a man who took advantage of her.”

  “Yet she lived in his mansion. Wore designer clothes and expensive jewelry. Had her own website to show off her…um, wares, shall we say? Doesn’t sound like a victim to me. In fact, it sounds exactly like a high-priced call girl.”

  “Then you’re an idiot,” Kathleen snapped.

  “Mr. Sims, you’re editorializing again,” the judge said. “And I’ll remind the witness to answer the questions asked, not give her opinion on the prosecution’s intelligence.”

  “Everything that happened to Alice is my fault,” Kathleen said. “She’s young and naïve. Braden took advantage of her innocence. I should have been there for her. I’m responsible.”

  “You’re responsible? It’s your fault?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. So you gave your sister the poison that killed Mr. Braden? Did you also provide the knife she used to slice his throat, gouge out his eyeballs, and sever his genitals from his body?”

  Her stomach heaved. “Of course not. I—”

  “Or are you confessing to the murder yourself? Are we about to have a real-life Perry Mason moment? A confession on the stand? Did you, Kathleen Callahan, kill Frank Braden?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.”

  Sims nodded knowingly, his face revealing he’d led Kathleen exactly where he wanted her to go. “Of course you aren’t confessing to murder, Miss Callahan.” He twisted round, causing all eyes, including the jurors’, to follow him as he pinned his accusing gaze on Alice. “Because we know exactly who killed Frank Braden, don’t we?”

  Chapter Three

  Cook County Jail

  Chicago

  “Thanks for the cookies. They’ll go over well with my new cellmate.”

  “You have a new roommate? When did that happen?”

  Alice’s eyes flickered with sadness, but she didn’t bother to correct Kathleen’s terminology.

  “Came back from the trial yesterday to find her sleeping…in my bed. Not that it matters. One cot is just as uncomfortable as the other. So far we’ve gotten along fine. She snores a lot, but other than that, we stay out of each other’s way.” Alice scrunched her nose in distaste. “As much as you can stay out of someone’s way when they’re within two feet of you at all times.”

  “What is she in for?”

  “What else but murder? Don’t you know they put all the badasses together?”

  “Who did she murder?”

  “We haven’t exactly gotten that close.”

  The knowledge that her little sister had to share a cell with a murderer sent shudders through her. Even though Kathleen knew that Alice was no longer the innocent girl she’d once been, she was no hardened criminal either.

  Wanting to give her sister some hope, Kathleen said, “I talked to Tony. He says the trial’s going well and he’s really optimistic.”

  Alice gave another tired little smile, and Kathleen wanted to cry because she knew she hadn’t convinced her sister of anything. The hope that had once been in Alice’s eyes was gone. All that remained was grim acceptance.

  “We’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

  “Oh, Kathleen, I wish you’d go live your life. Forget about me.”

  “Forget about you? Hell and damnation, Alice. How am I supposed to go about my life and forget that my baby sister—my only fam
ily—is on trial for a crime she didn’t commit? No way in hell, Alice. No. Way. In. Hell.”

  “Your loyalty is one of the many reasons I love you.” Tears glistened in her sister’s eyes. “Have I ever thanked you for taking care of me?”

  “No thanks are necessary. You know that. The moment Daddy brought you home, you were my baby doll.”

  A small smile tugged at Alice’s mouth. “You did love to dress me up.”

  “That’s because you were so tiny all of my doll clothes fit you perfectly.”

  A wistful look appeared on her face. “We did have some good times, didn’t we? Before—”

  Alice broke off, unwilling to add the obvious, but Kathleen knew exactly what she hadn’t said. Before it had all gone so horribly wrong. Before their father had been convicted and imprisoned. Before she and Alice had been separated. Before the nightmare had begun.

  It was useless to dwell on the past. It got you nowhere fast. The future was all that mattered.

  “We’ll have good times again, Alice. I promise.” She took the small notebook from her pocket, picked up the pitiful excuse for a pen attached to the table. “Okay. Let’s get to work.”

  “What’s the point? We’ve gone over it and over it. I’ve told you everything.”

  “Then you’ll tell me one more time. Dammit, Alice. I need you to fight. You can’t give up. You understand me?”

  Alice laughed softly. “Okay, Wildcat.”

  Kathleen grinned at the nickname their father had given her when she refused to give up on something she believed was right.

  “Damn straight I’m a wildcat. Especially for people I believe in. I believe in you, Alice Callahan. Always have.”

  Grateful tears shimmered in her sister’s eyes. Refusing to allow her own tears to gather, Kathleen said determinedly, “Now, tell me again about Braden. You met him at a party.”

  Even though they’d gone through the story numerous times before, Alice answered, “Yes. I was sharing an apartment with Renee Stokes at the time. She told me about this party. Said all sorts of sophisticated, wealthy men would be there.”

  Alice went on to describe how Frank had charmed her, bought her pretty things, romanced her. Her sister thought she’d found her knight in shining armor and had met the devil instead.