A Capital Mistake

by Kennedy Cross

  “Don’t! Sophia, you can’t do that,” she says. “Be fair to yourself! You can’t save everyone. You’re safe! You saved yourself, do you know how important that is right now?”

  Saved myself. What a joke.

  The only thing I did was blindly throw myself into the arms of a murderer. If I had half the instincts I thought I did, I would’ve seen the clues and I would’ve acted.

  And if I’d done that, maybe I would’ve saved that girl’s life.

  Nora doesn’t wait for me to respond. “Can you even imagine? You have to see the whole scope of this thing,” she says. “Remember our talk? Remember that? Can you imagine if you’d let yourself get any closer to him? You deserve credit for that! It’s the reason you’re safe!”

  All I can do is sob into the phone. I don’t have anything to say. Not anymore. I’ve lost touch with my logic. Hell, I’ve lost touch with myself.

  I don’t even know who I am.

  “Oh girly,” she croons even softer this time. “You’re not at your desk right now, are you? Can you find a place to talk?”

  My phone buzzes in my hand. I pull the vibration away from my face and the words Claire Brooks instantly halt my tears.

  Nora begins muttering in my palm and I raise my phone again.

  “I gotta go,” I sputter quickly. “I’ll call you back, okay?” Without waiting, I switch to the incoming call.

  “Claire?”

  “Hey, Soph.”

  I’m hit with a pang of sorrow and the intense urge to ask her not to call me that anymore. She sounds too much like him. But I bite my lip and focus on suppressing my tears.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  At first, she only exhales. “I really shouldn’t be doing this, but I think you deserve it.” My fingers tremble as she hesitates. “I just want to let you know that Noah Mason was formally charged with murder earlier today.”

  I shut my eyes, enduring the weight of the blow all over again.

  “Okay.” It’s all I can get out.

  “I’m sorry, Soph,” she says. “There’s too much evidence that he did it. I… I’m just really sorry.”

  For a moment I feel weightless, like I’ve shed the last link connecting me to Noah. But a dark cloud of guilt returns a split second later.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Claire says, as if reading my thoughts.

  “How can I not, Claire?”

  “You know these kinds of people. They’re evil and they’re good at deceiving,” she says. “You’re one of our best and if you didn’t know, hell, how could anyone?”

  Another rush of tears swells in my eyes. I try to hold onto my voice as they spill. “I just wish I could’ve done something before—”

  “I know,” she says firmly. It hangs in the air as I take in a slow and deliberate breath.

  “Where was she killed?”

  “What?”

  “Where did he do it?” I ask. “You said the body was dumped. Where did it happen?”

  “We’re not sure yet.”

  “You’re not sure?” My heart knots in my chest. “You’re rushing him into a trial before you even have a crime scene?”

  “I’m not doing anything. Sheriff took the evidence to the DA and they decided to charge him.”

  “You said Sheriff knew the vic, maybe he’s—”

  “Come on, Soph,” Claire says, not hiding her irritation. “To be honest, I don’t blame them. Bullet matched a gun with his fingerprints. His DNA was at the scene. Every-single-thing points to Noah.”

  “Were there other prints on the gun?”

  “Sophia.”

  “What? Come on, Claire, don’t give in to—”

  “Sophia!” she exclaims. “Don’t go there. I called to let you know the truth. I was hoping it would help you.”

  “Help me? Was that supposed to help me sit here and wallow in my grief? I can’t do anything, Claire. I can’t investigate any part of this, so excuse me if I have a few questions.”

  “You’re not asking questions! You’re defending him. And last time I checked, you were a damn good officer. Not a slimy defense attorney,” she says. “If this involved anyone besides Noah, you wouldn’t doubt the evidence for a second.”

  My throat goes so dry that I’m incapable of speaking. I close my eyes.

  She’s right.

  It’s not my job to defend Noah. Not my job to defend us, whatever we had. Not when I could’ve just as easily been his victim.

  “I know.” My stomach churns with a fusion of guilt and regret. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Nora begins to speak but I try my best to talk over her. “Let me just ask you one more thing, then I’m done. I promise.”

  She sighs. “Yes?”

  “When was she killed?”

  “The coroner put her DOT around two hours before her body was discovered,” she says flatly. “Which is consistent with the timestamps on her last few calls. Her last phone call went out at 8:47 seven p.m. Thursday night. Sheriff called her a few times around 9:30 but couldn’t get an answer. That’s when he went looking for her and, well, you know the rest.”

  Something bursts in my chest.

  “Wait, 9:30 on Thursday night?”

  “Yep.”

  “Claire, this wasn’t Noah! It can’t be I was—”

  “Don’t do this, Soph. You promised.”

  “Listen!” I shout. “When was the exact TOD?”

  “You know we don’t have exacts, but coroner estimated around 9:00 p.m., give or take.”

  “Okay! Claire, listen, this wasn’t him!” I protest. “It couldn’t have been. I was with him!”

  There’s a long pause but I don’t want to continue. I want her to absorb it.

  “You were with him at what time?” she finally asks.

  “I was with him from 6:00 Thursday evening until 8:15 Friday morning.”

  “Non-stop?”

  “Non-stop. We went to bed around 11:00 and he was at my side starting at 6:00. That covers your entire window.”

  Another long pause. She draws in a breath.

  “Soph, we found his semen,” she says soberly. “It matched his sample in CODIS.”

  “I can’t explain that, at least not right now. But you have to believe me!” I plead. “Noah has no motive to do this. And I was with him, I’ll testify to it!”

  “Okay, slow down. Listen to me for a second, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you getting anymore roped into this thing.”

  “I’m already in this, Claire. I’ll never escape it.”

  “All right, okay,” she stammers. “But, it just… it seems impossible.”

  “I was with him all night. Do you believe me or not? There’s no in between.”

  “Of course I believe you.”

  “Who found the semen, officers or the coroner?” I ask.

  “We did.”

  “Where?”

  “It was all over her stomach and genitalia.”

  “You need to retest it,” I say firmly.

  “They already did, Sheriff’s orders,” she says. “He’s upset about the Vic and wants this whole case rock-solid.”

  I bring my phone down and squeeze it between my palms. It’s taking everything I have to not implode right now.

  I take a deep breath before bringing it back to my ear. “How did you know she was dumped?”

  “Close range gun wound but no blood splatter anywhere at the scene. No sign of her clothes. Motel residents never reported hearing a gunshot. Although, the murder weapon was left alongside—”

  “I know.” I shut my eyes and clench my jaw. I feel a headache coming on, but I fight it back.

  All right.

  “Okay, I need you to give me the full run down. Tell me everything you know,” I say, springing from my bed to snatch a loose piece of paper and a pen from my bedside table. “Please Claire! This is my only option,” I add after a moment passes without a response.

  “All right! But promise me you won’
t—”

  “I won’t,” I blurt. “But we don’t have much time. Please!”

  “Okay, I can’t look anything up right now but I know she was twenty-four-years-old, name was Elizabeth Barton. Prior arrests for a DUI and prostitution. TOD around 9 p.m. Thursday night, body recovered around eleven. Shot and killed with a snub nose .38-caliber revolver. She was dumped in the corner of the parking lot behind the Palm Leaf Motel off—”

  “Off twenty-second and Wilma,” I say, scribbling as I write.

  “Yep. And I assume you know about the accused. Noah Mason, youngest son of Jim and Maria Mas—”

  “Hold up, what was that?” For the first time I stop writing and look up.

  “What? Son of Thomas and—”

  “Did you say youngest son? Noah has a brother?” I ask, the floor crumbling below me.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Well—he did. His brother died just a about a year-and-a-half ago. He was only thirty-two. Parents both deceased as well. Seems that Noah’s been on his own ever since.”

  I bite my lip. “How did he die?”

  “It’s ironic you ask because I was just looking into it this morning. It’s an odd case,” she says. “His name was Kristopher Mason, died somewhat peculiarly while hospitalized. One of the nurses noted her suspicion of arsenic poisoning, but evidently nothing ever came of it. No investigation.”

  “Arsenic poisoning?”

  “Uh-hmm. Random, I know.”

  I drop my pen and fall backwards into my bed.

  Noah had a brother.

  Not only that, but Noah had a brother that died almost a year ago. And he never said a word.

  I suck in a breath before sitting up again. “You said Noah’s the only one left?”

  “Yep. Well, sort of. Kristopher Mason’s fiancé was pregnant with their child when he died.”

  I have to shut my eyes again.

  “What’s the fiancé’s name?” I ask after a long moment.

  “Savannah Platt.”

  “Does she live close?”

  Claire groans. “I wish I didn’t know that answer. Yes. She does. But Sophia, you’re going to get me in a lot of trouble if you start digging around in this.”

  “Well I’m not going to stand idly by, Claire. You’re going to have to give up on that. Noah didn’t commit this murder, I know that for a fact. And not only does that mean that an innocent man is facing trial, but also that whoever really did do this is still out there,” I say. “I need you to give me Savannah’s address, I need to talk to her.”

  “Soph, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

  “Address, Claire!”

  Chapter Thirty

  Noah

  My phone’s buzzing. Again. For the seventh time.

  I already know who it is, but I can’t help checking anyway. I glance down at the screen, and for the seventh time, I let it go to voicemail.

  I’m sitting on the patio behind my house, basking in the warm evening breeze. There comes a chirp from the tree to my right. A little mockingbird. Slowly, I aim the camera in my lap. His silver belly will look great in the twilight.

  I take a few different shots before my phone begins buzzing again. I flip it over, just to check. And for the eighth time, I let it go to voicemail.

  Sophia’s left seven messages already. One after every call. And I gave up counting the texts. Though I’d bet my life she leaves another voicemail again after this call too.

  Bet my life—yeah, whatever that’s worth.

  What has it ever been worth? I had a good childhood, but then came the car wreck, Mom and Dad gone, and it’s been downhill ever since. Each year’s gotten worse. Then Kris. Everyone that’s ever mattered to me, gone.

  Grayson and I are all that’s left, and I won’t even be able to watch him grow up. But I can provide for him. And I will.

  There’s another sound. A rustling sound.

  Footsteps.

  I spring to my feet. My hand drops to my waist, the spot where my revolver should be holstered. But it’s not. It’s locked up as evidence. My defenselessness freezes me in place just as Sophia steps out from around the corner of the house.

  She sees my panic and takes a nervous step back. Our eyes lock before either of us says a word.

  Her chest deflates in a breath.

  “Noah.” It comes out as a whisper. She runs toward me and wraps me in a hug.

  For a second everything around us dissolves and all I can feel is her warm body in my arms. Her rapid breathes against my chest. Her head on my shoulder. Her scent.

  I drop my arms before the moment swallows me altogether.

  She takes a step back and stares up at me, her blue eyes full of distress.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  I don’t answer.

  “I heard you were out on bail and I had to see you. You’re ignoring my calls.”

  “You can’t be here,” I say. Her face goes expressionless.

  “What?”

  “You can’t be here,” I repeat. I should’ve expected this. Should’ve barricaded my fucking driveway. Every second she spends here is putting her even further at risk. And I won’t let it happen. Not again.

  “I’m here to help you,” she pleads. “What’s go—”

  “I don’t need help,” I say without thinking. My only focus is on getting her out of here. Away from me.

  “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” The pain in her voice is agonizing but I force it out of my head. I know she’s in pain, she’s probably going through hell. But this can get a lot worse.

  “You can’t be here!” I grasp her shoulder to turn her around, but she immediately shrugs me off.

  “Stop,” she snaps, but I reach for her arm anyway. She can kick and scream and throw a fit for all I care. It’s better than the alternative.

  “I’m serious, you need to leave.”

  “Tell me what’s going on,” she demands, her face fixed in a hard expression.

  With my hand on her arm, I take a second to scan our surroundings. My driveway is almost a quarter mile long, but that doesn’t mean shit. Cliff’s watching me. Whether it’s a camera, a stake out, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. In some form or another, he’s watching, and maybe even listening.

  “Come on, let’s go inside,” I say. “Hurry.”

  My hand drops to the small of her back as I follow her into the house. I tell myself to stop, to let go, but I can’t. Not until we’re both standing in the kitchen.

  “You need to get out of here.”

  She leans back and grabs the granite island as if to anchor herself. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Oh yes you are.” I take a step toward her, extend my hand and reach for her arm, but she jerks away.

  “Don’t touch me!” she shouts. The determination in her eyes begins to fade as they fill with tears.

  It takes everything I have not to embrace her in my arms.

  “I don’t have time to explain, but it doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’ve already strung you along for too long. You need to get out of here, and don’t come back.”

  A single tear breaks down her left cheek. “Why are you saying that?”

  I close my eyes. It breaks my heart to see her cry. I can hear her take a step toward me, but when I open my eyes again, she stops in place.

  “You need to go,” I whisper gently. It hurts more than all the other attempts put together.

  “But why?” Her tears are softening her voice. “I came to help you.”

  I shake my head slowly back and forth. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  “Why do you think that?” she quivers. “Why are you—”

  “Soph,” I say, cutting her off. “You need to go. I know you don’t understand, but you need—”

  “I know you didn’t do this, Noah!” she blurts, using her finger to stop another tear from escaping. “You’re right, I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but I do know that you’re innocent. You di
dn’t kill that girl, and I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

  I take a step toward her, just one at first, but when she doesn’t flinch I take another, then another until I can place my hands softly on her shoulders.

  I peer into her sunken blue eyes. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why not?”

  “It doesn’t involve you.”

  “That’s bullshit,” she seethes. Her every word feels as raw as the pain in her eyes.

  “You can get mad, you can be fucking pissed at me. I don’t care,” I say. “But you need to get out of here, Sophia. You have to. Come on, let’s go.” The second I try to turn her shoulders she shakes me off, this time using her hand to push away my arm.

  “Stop! Stop that! Don’t touch me again if you’re just going to push me. I’m not leaving.”

  “Yes you—”

  “I don’t get it!” she shouts. “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you let me help you?”

  “Because you can’t help me!” I shout. “Okay? Do you understand what I’m saying? You. Can’t. Help. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “You’re wrong! I might not understand any of this, and I’m not pretending that I do. But Noah, I swear, whatever you got into, I can help you!”

  “No you can’t!”

  “Why won’t you fight back? You have an alibi, I know you do!” she says. “I’ll find you a good lawyer; I’ll testify for you! But I don’t understand why you won’t stand up for yourself. At least stand up for us. You’re about to go to prison!”

  “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, okay? This is all bigger than you think.”

  “Then tell me,” she says. “Help me understand. Is it Kris? Kristopher, your brother? Is he part of this?”

  My every emotion disintegrates all at once.

  “What did you just say?”

  Sophia nods. “I had a feeling it did. Now just tell me! Help me understand, then I can help you!”

  “No, hold on,” I say. “Where did you hear that? How do you know his name?”

  “Because I’m trying to help you! I’m trying to figure out why someone would frame you for a crime that I know you didn’t commit, and I’m trying to figure out why you won’t admit that,” she says. “Does it have to do with your brother?”