Keep No Secrets

by Julie Compton

  In fact, I think some would have even seen you as a hero if you'd been the one to turn her in."

  "Turn her in? You talk as if there's an outstanding warrant for her arrest.

  There's not, Gunner. At least not that I’m aware of."

  "That's true." He shrugs. "But will the public care about that distinction? You have my word that nothing ever goes outside this room, but I can't speak for the trooper." He shakes his head regretfully. "I just don't know if you'll survive this. And I find that sad, because I think you're an incredible prosecutor."

  The unexpected compliment moves

  Jack. Unable to speak, he shows his appreciation with a slight nod. He turns back to the window, thinks of Jenny's question. Do you enjoy it? And his response. I love it. I really love it.

  Gunner's right. If even one member of the press realizes the story is bigger than Jenny being back, Jack's career as DA is over, rape charges or no rape charges. He can't imagine the city will forgive him a second time, even if he could somehow explain his actions. He wonders how long he has left. Days? Hours? Minutes?

  The detective returns and hands

  Gunner his cell phone.

  "She appeared to be on the Poplar Street Bridge," he says as Gunner reads the screen. "They immediately called it in to a nearby squad car, but by the time they got there . . ."

  Gunner looks up at Sumner; Jack still faces the window but watches Gunner in the reflection. His stomach tightens like a clenched fist.

  "The signal was gone."

  spring

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ODDLY, THE FIRST thing Jack thinks when he wakes up on April Fool's Day is I'm in my own bed.

  The last time—the only time—he went to court as a witness, for Alex's trial, he woke in the guest bedroom of his

  brother's house. Then, he wanted so badly to be where he is now. He wanted so badly to wake up next to Claire.

  Now, he rolls over and looks at her as she sleeps. He's done this more often the past few months. It's the only chance he has to see the face of the woman he married. He wonders if he'll ever touch her again, really touch her. The way a man is supposed to touch his wife. He tries to remember the last time they made love, and he can't. It's been that long. He's not sure which came first, his lack of desire for her or her not so subtle clues that he shouldn't even try.

  He's no longer sure their marriage will survive as he insisted to Mark it would. In the three months since Christmas, when Jack asked for but didn't get Claire's assurance that she believed in his innocence, he's watched for a sign she might have reached that conclusion. He doesn't need or even expect an apology for her lack of faith in him; he simply needs her to believe in him again. Either she truly thinks he's guilty, or she doesn't but has decided to let him believe she does. He's not sure which is worse.

  He hasn't seen or talked to Jenny since the day at the Ritz. Claire knows this. He didn’t tell her exactly what happened in Mark’s kitchen, but he did tell her he thought Jenny had sent the letters to herself and that he was done helping her.

  He explained he'd met with Gunner about seeing Jenny, but Claire didn’t ask for many details, and Jack didn't provide more.

  Gunner and Sumner kept their

  promises to Jack, and Trooper Smith, apparently, never leaked what he knew to the press. Even so, Jack holds his breath, waiting for the day the young trooper sends a blackmail note. He didn't seem like the type, but Jack can't think of any reason the kid would keep what he knows to himself. Perhaps he wants to see if Jack is acquitted. If so, the value of the information would rise considerably, since Jack will then have more to lose.

  Jack suspects Jenny eventually returned to Chicago to be near her brother, but he really doesn't know. Even after his conversation with Rebecca Chambers, he's still convinced Jenny sent the letters to herself—why, he can't fathom—and that her meeting with the PI had more to do with mounting a defense to a possible murder charge than investigating the letters. No matter. He resolved to put her out of his mind, or at least back to that dormant place in his brain she inhabited before she surprised him in the tunnel.

  But his efforts have had no visible effect on Claire. They settled into the same type of standstill that followed her escape to Sedona. He doesn't know if she's angry with him, or simply numb, but his marriage is disintegrating before his eyes and he has no idea how to put it back together. He does know he’s guilty of no longer trying.

  He also knows he's on the verge of no longer caring.

  Claire's eyes roam beneath her lids; she's dreaming. Like Jack, she had difficulty falling asleep the night before. He heard her restless repositioning, her frustrated sighs, her quiet sobs he wasn't supposed to hear. Several times during the night she rose from the bed to go into the bathroom. He never heard the toilet flush, so he's pretty sure she wasn't using it for its intended purpose. Each time, for a split second after she opened the door to come out but before she flipped the switch, he saw her silhouette against the light. He felt nothing.

  He rises from the bed, taking care not to wake her. In the bathroom, he sees the evidence of her nighttime activities. Spent tissues fill the small trash basket next to her sink. He knows she didn't flush them because she was afraid the noise would wake him. Despite everything, she still extended this kindness. As he stands just outside the shower and waits for the water to get hot, he thinks they should have talked about what will happen if he's convicted. Though he's certain his bail won't be revoked during the appeals and they'll have plenty of time to talk about logistics, he worries that her fragile cooperation might shatter if a jury finds him guilty.

  She's still asleep when he emerges from the steamy bathroom, or at least she pretends to be. He dresses quietly in his nicest suit, but when it's time to tie his tie, he fumbles with it. It's a skill he learned from his father years before, but for almost eighteen years now, Claire has done it for him. His trembling hands don't help.

  As he's about to leave the bedroom, she calls softly, "Good luck."

  He stills. Good luck? If he responds with even just a fraction of what he'd like to say to that, he'll be late to court.

  The silence stretches as he stands in the doorway, his back to her, his emotions seesawing between tears and tirade. In the end, he resists both. He simply says thanks and takes his leave.

  The case is assigned to Judge Simmons, but the trial will be held in the Chief Judge's courtroom on the 10th floor, the largest in the courthouse. The hour is still early when Jack and Earl arrive, but already spectators fill most of the right side of the gallery. More will pack the remaining rows well before the trial begins at nine. By the number of guards milling about, Jack knows the judge expects the room to fill to capacity.

  Jack knows all eyes are on him, that the courtroom artists note his every

  expression and the news cameras film his every move. He walks with Earl toward the bar with the same purpose and determination he'd display in any other case. As a prosecutor, he won't take a case to trial unless he's certain of the defendant's guilt. In this case, he's just as certain of his own innocence and he wants everyone to know it. He gives a solemn nod to those he recognizes, and he stops to shake hands and chat with those to whom he has closer ties, mainly fellow members of the bar who've come to support him. He spots Mark on the front bench, next to the center aisle, and excuses himself to greet him. Mark looks up from his magazine and, seeing Jack, rises with a wide smile.

  "Thanks for coming," Jack says, his voice suddenly hoarse with emotion as he imagines saying the same thing if Mark has to visit him in prison. When Mark envelops him in a hug, holding tighter and longer than usual, Jack struggles to maintain his composure.

  As he passes through the swinging gate, habit causes him to turn toward the prosecution table. Earl subtly touches his arm and guides him the other way before anyone notices the mistake.

  Walker subpoenaed both Michael and Claire as witnesses, but since today will consist of pretrial motions and jury selec
tion, neither of them must be here.

  Claire will come anyway, Jack knows, but because Earl has filed a motion to sequester the witnesses, she'll probably spend her time in the witness room or wandering the hallways of the courthouse.

  Michael will stay away until the day of his testimony.

  The motions take up most of the

  morning. Earl prevails in his request to sequester the witnesses, but he loses in his bid to exclude testimony about Jack's past with Jenny. Jack isn't surprised. If he was Walker, he'd have argued its relevancy, too, and expected to win.

  After a short lunch break, the judge pushes forward with voir dire, which progresses faster than anyone expected.

  By five o'clock on Tuesday, a jury of eight women and four men has been selected.

  The judge announces they'll reconvene on Wednesday morning to hear opening arguments.

  Not one juror looks Jack in the eye as the twelve of them file out of the courtroom.

  On Wednesday, the case begins in

  earnest. Walker's impassioned opening argument portrays Celeste as a naïve, inexperienced teen with a crush on her boyfriend's father. He paints Jack as an admitted adulterer who looked at Celeste and saw his former mistress, and then used the teen's adoration of him along with his talents of persuasion to take advantage of her. Walker is a strong orator. His presentation impresses even Jack, causing him to question every decision he made the night he took Celeste home. Afterwards, the jurors finally look at him, but their faces reflect only disgust or morbid curiosity.

  Earl informs the judge that he'll reserve his opening for the start of the defense case, so Walker calls his first witness to the stand, Ramon Del Toro.

  Celeste's father enters the courtroom with the bailiff. As he's led to the witness stand, he crosses in front of the defense table but shows no awareness of Jack's presence. He dressed for court in dark khakis, a white oxford without a necktie, and a navy blue sport coat. A gold chain hangs from his neck, its pendant barely visible at the point of his open collar. Jack knows from the court papers he's thirty-seven years old, but his attire and his hesitant demeanor suggest a younger man. He's handsome, with warm, dark eyes and a strong jaw. Jack already knows from years of questioning witnesses that unless Del Toro does something that comes off as arrogant, the women jurors will believe everything he says. No wonder Walker chose him to go first.

  Del Toro answers the oath in a quiet, respectful voice, his Puerto Rican accent still thick. Although he's a slight man, he sits carefully, as though the chair might break from his weight. He cautiously takes in the crowd, and only then does he seem to realize Jack is in the courtroom, too. To Jack's surprise, Del Toro regards him not with anger, but with profound disappointment, as if he, too, is a victim of Jack's betrayal. Jack begins to doubt his instincts. Should he have approached the man privately about Celeste's accusations?

  "Sir, can you state your name for the record?"

  "Ramon Del Toro."

  "And you are the father of Celestina Del Toro, the victim in this case?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Your daughter is sixteen years old, correct?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Do you have any other children?"

  "No, sir, it's just me and Celeste."

  "Does Celeste's mother live with you?"

  "No, she lives in Florida. We're divorced."

  "How long have you been divorced?"

  "About eight years."

  "When did you move to Missouri?"

  "Just this past summer, when I took a job at the Fabick Company, in Fenton."

  "Where do you live now?"

  "In far West County, off Melrose. Not far from Rockwoods Reservation."

  "Sir, as you know, the defendant in this case has been charged with sexually assaulting your daughter. Can you explain how you first came to be aware that he assaulted her?"

  I guess I don't have a name, Jack writes on a legal pad. Earl writes back, Get used to it.

  You know the game.

  "Well, she had gone out the night before with Michael—"

  "Are you referring to Michael Hilliard, the defendant's son?"

  "Yes. Michael is her boyfriend. She got home very late, around two thirty or three a.m. She told me that they'd had car trouble. When she got home, I asked her where Michael was, because usually he walks her to the door. She said he didn't that night because it was so late and he needed to get home. I found that strange, because he is usually such a well-mannered boy."

  "Then what happened?"

  "Nothing, then. We went to bed. Like I said, it was very late. But the next day, I was straightening around the house, and while I was emptying the trash in her bathroom, I found something that

  disturbed me."

  "What did you find?"

  "I found bits of torn up instructions from a pregnancy test."

  Jack and Earl look at each other from the corner of their eyes, but otherwise remain impassive. Walker pauses,

  suggesting the testimony surprised him, too.

  "What time was this, approximately?"

  "It was in the afternoon on Sunday, three thirty? Four?"

  "What did you do when you found the pregnancy test instructions?"

  "I went to Celeste. I asked her what this means. I was very upset, as you can imagine."

  "Did she have an explanation?"

  "Not at first. She was just angry. She screamed at me, told me I had no

  business going through her things, as if I had been snooping or something, not simply emptying the trash. But I insisted that she tell me why this was there. She began to cry, and then she told me what really happened the night before."

  "What really happened?"

  "Yes. That Mr. Hilliard—Michael's father—had driven her home, and that he'd raped—"

  "Objection, Your Honor," Earl says quickly. "Anything Mr. Del Toro might say about what Celeste told him

  happened in the car would be hearsay."

  "Your Honor," Walkers begins, his tone suggesting that any idiot knows Earl's objection isn't valid. "Mr. Del Toro isn't testifying to what his daughter told him for the purpose of proving the truth of it. Rather, we offer this testimony to show the motivation for the actions her father subsequently took. The testimony fits squarely within the exceptions to the hearsay rule."

  The judge's gaze volleys between

  Walker and Jack. He doesn't want to overrule the objection, but they all know he will.

  "Overruled. But Mr. Walker, please keep this type of testimony to a

  minimum. Any specifics about what happened in the car is best offered by the victim. Continue."

  Walker directs his attention back to Del Toro. "Briefly, sir, what did Celeste tell you happened in the car?"

  "Like I started to say, she told me he raped her."

  "And based upon that, what did you do?"

  "I insisted we go to the police."

  "Did she agree?"

  "She did not want to do this, she was so embarrassed and upset, but I insisted, and she agreed."

  "Did you call the police?"

  "No, sir. We drove to the station."

  "When did you do this?"

  "By the time I convinced her she needed to report the rape, it was about dinnertime. I think we arrived around seven."

  Walker takes his witness through

  everything that occurred during their visit to the station. Just when Jack starts to think Walker will leave it to Earl to ask about Celeste's refusal to be examined, he broaches the topic.

  "Do you know whether your daughter was asked to submit to a rape exam?"

  "Yes, she was, but she said no."

  "Did you encourage her to say no?"

  "No, at first I tried to convince her that she should let them to do it. But she became hysterical, and finally I thought, okay, this is making matters worse. She already had her virginity violently taken

  —"

  "Objection." This time Earl stands for emphasis. "Judge, there
has been no evidence about whether Ms. Del Toro was a virgin on the night in question, and moreover, there has yet to be admissible evidence about what happened in the car."

  "Sustained." The judge leans over to Del Toro and says politely, "Sir, please try to testify only about those things of which you have direct knowledge."

  Del Toro looks slightly confused by the judge's instruction, but he nods to indicate he'll do as he's told. Jack has no doubt the man believes his daughter was a virgin. What father wouldn't want to think so about his sixteen-year-old daughter, regardless of the evidence?

  Even Jack was in denial about Michael before that night.

  "So you didn't insist your daughter be examined?"

  "No, I did not. I didn't want to upset her more."

  Once Walker exhausts the details of Celeste's accusations, he turns to Jack's actions after the arrest.

  "Sir, to your knowledge, has the defendant been in contact with your daughter since the night in question?"

  "Well, not directly, no. But he stole some personal writing from a notebook he found in her backpack."

  Earl doesn't object. He already fought this fight in pretrial motions and lost.

  Both Jack and Earl know the jury will see the journal entry, but they'd hoped it would first be discussed with a different witness. Earl argued that to let Del Toro testify about it would constitute hearsay; Walker countered that he would be using it for the limited purpose of showing Jack's state of mind. Namely, a sense of guilt. The judge ruled in Walker's favor.

  "What type of writing?" Walker asks Del Toro.

  "It was a page from Celeste's notebook.

  Like her diary. It described what Mr.

  Hilliard did to her in the car. I guess he didn't want anyone to see it."

  Jack grunts quietly, Earl shushes him.