by Teri Ames
“Other than expense and the judge, are there any other reasons we should consider keeping the trial here?” Cassie said.
“Yes. The demographics of Adams County.”
“What’s good about Adams County?”
“It’s the most liberal county in the state. On average, seventy-five percent of Adams County voters are Democrat or Progressive. Statewide, it’s closer to sixty percent. In general, Democrats are more likely to acquit. And, in this county, even a good number of people who vote Republican are suspicious of the government.”
“What do you think we should do?” Greg said.
“I’ve had good luck with Adams County juries. I would probably keep the trial here. But, like I said, it’s up to you. If you don’t think you can get a fair trial here, I’ll try to get it moved.”
“We’ll do what you think is best,” Greg said. Given the apparent complexity of the decision, Cassie was glad to hear him say it.
“Keenan, are you okay with that?” Barry said.
Keenan nodded once slowly.
“Of course, it’s possible we won’t be able to get enough jurors here,” Barry said. “If that happens, the court will have no choice but to move the trial.”
Chapter 39
Friday, December 13, 2013
THE WEEK before final exams Keenan was a perfect gentleman. He walked Shannon to the library every night, and he walked her home. He kissed her gently and held her hand, but nothing more.
Shannon found that it was easier to study when she was with Keenan because she didn’t think about Jake.
The last weekend before exams Keenan was busy with hockey.
“We’re away again this weekend,” he told her. “You’ll to have to study without me.”
“Next week, I really need to hunker down. Monday’s history. I’ve got calculus and chemistry on Tuesday, English on Thursday. Then cell biology. I won’t have time to see you.”
“Okay, but I want to see you before you go home for the holiday.”
On Saturday, while Keenan was away, Jake called her on FaceTime. They had texted during the previous two weeks, but it wasn’t the same. Seeing his face on her laptop reminded her of her dilemma.
“How are finals going?” Jake said.
“We haven’t started yet. My first one is on Monday. How about you?”
“Two down, two to go. I’m flying out on Thursday.”
“My flight is on Saturday.”
“How are you getting to the airport?”
“There’s a shuttle leaving from campus.”
“I can’t wait to see you.”
“Yeah. It’ll be good to be home for a few weeks.”
“We’ll have to find a way to get away from our parents.”
“I don’t know.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Jake said.
Why did it have to be so difficult? “See you in a week.”
“I love you.”
“You too.”
She clicked End, closed the laptop, and pushed it away. The problem was she did love him. She loved them both. What the hell was she supposed to do? She needed an advice column like they had in her local paper. That gave her an idea. She could ask her friends for advice. She reopened her laptop, clicked on the Facebook icon, and found the private Facebook group she had with her Masterson friends. She thought for a minute before initiating a group chat.
Is it possible to be in love with two guys at the same time?
Do I have a moral responsibility to tell Keenan that I slept with Jake?
Do I have a moral responsibility to tell Jake that I slept with Keenan?
Do I really have to choose?
Is it okay to keep both of them if I’m not sleeping with either?
The query went out to her six closest friends at Masterson. Responses came back quickly. Everybody must have been looking for an excuse for a study break.
Jenna wrote: Wish I had your problems. I don’t know Jake, but Keenan is a hottie. I think the answer is simple. How would you feel if one of them was sleeping with someone else? You either need to choose or you have to tell them and let them choose. Just be prepared that if you let them choose, you may lose them both.
Carly wrote: I think either you need to tell them or you need to stop sleeping with them. It’s high school health class 101. Condoms aren’t fool proof. You could get pregnant. You could get an STD.
Greta wrote: Whatever happened to “Don’t kiss and tell.” I say keep it to yourself until you’re ready to decide. That’s what a guy would do.
Gwen wrote: I’m in favor of honesty. You can’t have a relationship with either of them if it’s based on lies.
The last response struck a chord with Shannon. She realized that the lies were what was making her a wreck. She would tell Keenan before she left for break. She would tell Jake as soon as she got home.
There. It was decided. Why didn’t she feel better? Probably because it might mean losing them both. That would really suck.
Chapter 40
Friday, May 9, 2013
WITH ONE mile to go, Keenan picked up his pace. He’d already pounded out six miles and his legs were heavy with exhaustion. His lungs ached in suffocation, but he didn’t back off. Instead, he focused on the horizon, concentrated on pushing as hard as he could, and with each step, he willed the pain away.
When he reached the college field house, he doubled over, relishing the feeling of air filling his lungs. Was that how Shannon had died? Gasping for air, finding only water to breathe? He shuddered.
Keenan had never been much of a runner. Running just felt so inefficient compared to skating. But the rink had shut down at the beginning of April and he’d forgotten his inline skates back in Lyndonville. His frustration had been building to the point he thought he’d explode, so one night in April, he’d put on his gym shoes and gone for a run. He had savored the anonymity of running in the dark. Nobody noticed him as he passed the dimly lit downtown storefronts and ran out into the semi-rural neighborhoods on the edge of town. He felt almost normal. Before long, he was going out every night. At first, for a few miles. Then more, and more.
When the days got longer, he started running in the early mornings. He was always awake early, might was well take advantage of the insomnia. Middleton Falls was like a ghost town just after sunrise. Unfortunately, the morning runs reminded him of the times he’d gone for weekend jogs with Shannon, which made him sad. But he’d found that the harder he pushed himself, punished himself, the better he felt afterward.
It was only six o’clock in the morning., which meant that the weight room would be mostly empty except for a few faculty members. He’d could lift weights in peace for an hour and still make it to his eight o’clock class.
He just needed to get through one more week of classes, a week of finals, and one more court date, and then he could head home for the summer. He’d still need to make regular trips to Middleton Falls to meet with Barry and prepare his defense, but at least he could spend one last summer fishing and hanging out with his family. A regular job would be too hard to manage, but he’d arranged to work for Grandpa Armand at the farm all summer.
Barry had told him a few months ago that if he was convicted of the domestic assault charge, he would be prohibited from touching a gun for the rest of his life. It seemed like the least of his worries right now, but it would be a shame if he could never go hunting with his uncle and grandpa again. Maybe they could get in a day of turkey hunting before the season closed at the end of May.
IT HAD taken a couple of meetings, but Fred finally convinced Olivia Dawson to return to California until the beginning of the trial. He had explained that he would be tied up with depositions and trial preparation for months and promised to keep her updated.
As part of his preparation, Fred made the trip to Burlington to meet with the medical examiner at her office. Dr. Grace Collins wasn’t scheduled for a deposition until later in the month, but Fred wanted to make su
re they were on the same page before Barry locked her into testimony that could damage his case. Once it became clear that he was going to have to try the case, Fred had gone through the evidence more thoroughly. And he realized why the grand jury had indicted. It might all be circumstantial, but the evidence was overwhelming. He wondered why he had been so reluctant to see it in the beginning.
“It’s been a while,” Fred said as he shook hands with Grace Collins.
“Yeah. I think the last time I had to testify in Adams County was that shaken baby case a few years back,” Grace said.
“Your testimony was crucial in that case. We’re always grateful.”
“It’s my job to give the dead a voice. That’s all I did.”
“I need you to do it again in the Shannon Dawson case.”
“I saw you charged the boyfriend. You sure he did it? If I recall, my autopsy was inconclusive.”
“We’re sure. They fought, and he assaulted her just before she disappeared. We have witnesses.”
“That changes things.”
“It sure does. We also have evidence that he used her car to transport her body.”
“How solid?”
“It’s solid. DNA. Fingerprints.”
“What do you need from me?”
“I need you to support our theory of the case. If you think your autopsy results are consistent, that is.”
“What’s your theory?”
“We think he hit her again after they left the witnesses. Probably killed her first, then dumped her body in the river. I need to know if you can support that fact pattern.”
“Give me a minute to look through the file.” She opened a legal-size manilla folder and started thumbing through the pages. While she was reading, Fred studied her as unobtrusively as he could. She was a handsome, middle-aged woman. Not pretty, really. But that could be more due to her authoritative nature than her physical characteristics. It was hard to separate the two. While she was reading, her eyebrows arched a few times. Five minutes later she looked up. “It could have happened the way you think. There’s nothing here that’s inconsistent.”
“That’s what we thought, but I wanted to hear it from you. Can you say unequivocally that the blunt force trauma to the head was sufficient to kill her? If you can, it makes my job a lot easier.”
“I can. The only reason I didn’t conclude that the head trauma was the cause of death is that it’s impossible to prove scientifically whether she drowned first.”
“I understand. But can you also say that the head injuries were consistent with an assault?”
“I can definitely come up with a scenario that fits the injury pattern.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“As long as you’re sure this wasn’t just an accidental death.”
“It would be too much of a coincidence. All the facts point to manslaughter.”
“I’m not a big believer in coincidence.”
“Me neither.”
Chapter 41
Thursday, December 19, 2013
SHANNON HADN’T expected the history test on Monday to be as hard as it was. She hadn’t put much time into it because she was more concerned about her required courses. Obviously that was a mistake, but one she hadn’t had time to regret because she’d had to get ready for chemistry and calculus. At least English hadn’t been that bad. From what everyone said, five exams in one week was as bad as it got. She felt like a hamster running on a wheel, not sure why she was running, but not daring to stop. Maybe she should have taken a lighter course load her first semester. What was she trying to prove anyway? Stop. This wasn’t the time for self-recrimination. She just needed to get through this week. She’d gotten less than four hours of sleep each of the past few nights, but she knew she could go one more night without sleep if that’s what was needed.
KEENAN KNEW he was lucky. Two of his English professors had assigned papers in lieu of final exams, so he’d only had three exams and they were well spaced. He’d tried to give Shannon space by sending her texts of encouragement, but resisted calling and interrupting her studying. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for Shannon doing poorly on one of her tests. Finally, when he couldn’t resist any longer, he called her on Thursday night.
“You have one exam left, right?”
“Yup. Cell biology.”
“How do you think you did so far?”
“I don’t know. The exams were harder than I expected.”
“Don’t worry. I always think I did worse than I did. You’ll do fine.”
“I hope so. I pretty much need to get straight As if I’m going to get into med school. What do you have left?”
“Just political science. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
“You’re lucky. Cell biology is my hardest class. I’ll be sooo glad when it’s over tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving on Saturday, right?”
“Yeah, my flight leaves at two o’clock.”
“Can I see you tomorrow night?”
“I already made plans with my friends from the skating club. We’re going to a party.”
How could she have made plans for the last night they would have together for a few weeks? Was he being played? She wouldn’t respect him if he acted like a whiner, that was for sure. “That’s cool,” he said. “Maybe I can see you after the party.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Just to say goodbye.”
“Maybe.”
“If it doesn’t work out, we could say goodbye on Saturday morning.”
“That might be better. I’ll call you tomorrow night.”
“Good luck tomorrow.”
“You, too.”
Keenan wanted to throw his phone. Instead, he set it down on his desk and clenched his fists. He could understand why guys sometimes punched walls. He’d give anything for a punching bag right now. How could she have made plans with her friends? This thing with Shannon was getting more and more fucked up by the minute. Shannon seemed happy when they were together. What the hell was going on?
He should probably stay at his desk and study for a few more hours, but all he wanted to do was go to the gym and work out. Hard. Maybe he could even find a punching bag.
Chapter 42
Friday, June 27, 2014
BARRY WOULD have liked to spend all his time preparing for the Brody trial, but he had other clients. He had won a DUI trial in early June. The client’s blood test results had come back just below the legal limit, but the state had insisted on prosecuting based on the argument that the guy’s blood alcohol was higher at the time he was driving. Years of experience had taught Barry that the police weren’t good at following their own procedures, so he was able to convince the jury that the field sobriety tests were unfairly administered and that there was insufficient evidence of intoxication at the time of driving. It would have been his client’s second DUI conviction, which would have meant a mandatory jail term. Fortunately, the jury would never know about the prior DUI. He hoped the guy would take the close call as a wakeup call.
Whenever he wasn’t working on other cases, Barry worked on Keenan’s case. He had no choice. The Brody case was moving along faster than any other case on the docket.
The May status conference had been perfunctory, and the court had seemed happy to excuse Keenan’s attendance at future conferences. The court just wanted to make sure that the attorneys were keeping to the schedule with as little fanfare as possible.
And they were keeping to a schedule. Barry had taken depositions of the student witnesses in May before they left for the summer. Barry only had a few questions for each of them, so the depositions were brief. The next week Barry had deposed Officer Shores and the medical examiner. The week after, Fred deposed Barry’s expert. At the June status conference, Fred and Barry let the court know they would be ready for trial in August.
Barry met with Keenan and his parents a week later.
“The court couldn’t make time for th
e trial in August,” Barry said. “The best they could do was the first week in September.”
“That means Keenan will miss the beginning of school,” Cassie said.
“I may miss a lot more than that,” Keenan said.
“He’ll make it up. Right, son?” Greg said.
“Seems like the least of my worries right now,” Keenan said.
“The judge keeps asking about the possibility of a plea deal. Have you thought any more about the state’s offer of eight to fifteen years?”
“Eight years?”
“Like I said, you’d be eligible for parole in about six. Whereas, if you’re convicted at trial, the judge can sentence you to up to fifteen years.”
“I can’t spend six years in jail for a crime I didn’t commit.”
Barry nodded.
“What happens next?” Greg said.
“We have a hearing set for August for some pretrial matters. The judge has excused Keenan’s appearance again. The clerk told me they’re hoping the media will stay away if Keenan’s not there. It seemed to help last time.”
“Works for me,” Keenan said.
“In the meantime, I’m going to keep getting ready for trial.” Barry said.
“How do things look? From your perspective, that is.” Cassie said.
“I have a plan for the defense. I hope it will be enough.”
“Well, you get paid win or lose,” Keenan said.
Cassie and Greg both frowned. “Keenan?” Cassie said. She shook her head before turning to Barry. “I’m sorry.”
“No need,” Barry said, raising his hand. It was easy to forgive the sarcasm. He could only imagine the frustration the kid was feeling.