Exposed

by Rhonda Pollero

  “What did he want?” Jack asked.

  “This.” She handed him the now-crumpled petition, then placed the newspaper with her mugshot on the front page inside the envelope. “He’s up to something,” Darby insisted.

  “This could be your ticket out of here,” Jack said. “All you have to do is confess to the hoax and produce the baby. You might get fined for filing a false police report, but other than that… Can you afford the terms he’s asking for in the divorce?”

  “I can afford it, but I don’t think Sean has any intention of just walking away from me or his daughter. He doesn’t walk away from fights. He has to win. It’s coded in his DNA.”

  Jack sighed. “Are you willing to give him what he’s asking for?”

  “To get my daughter back?” she scoffed. “I’d give him everything. But Sean never does anything that isn’t to Sean’s gain. And he wouldn’t walk away from his daughter. Not when he can use her to make my life miserable. I honestly think I could give him everything on his list and the first time he had the opportunity, he’d take her and run.”

  “Because?”

  “Because he’d never turn down an opportunity to hurt me. If you could have seen the hatred in his eyes when he was here…”

  “He can’t hurt you in here.”

  Darby raked her fingers through her hair. “But he would if he could,” she insisted. “That’s why I don’t think I can take those divorce papers at face value. He’s planning something.”

  “Well, for now, let’s focus on this.” He reached into his briefcase and took out a sheet of paper. “Sign the substitution of counsel form right here and I’ll run over to the courthouse and get it signed by the judge, then I’ll meet you back here with the stuff you were wearing when you were arrested.”

  Darby smiled and tears welled in her eyes. “Please hurry. I want my baby back.”

  True to his word, Darby was summoned to visiting area again in just over thirty minutes. Jack’s brow was damp, probably from racing around in the Florida heat. But it was the look in his eyes that caused an instant rock to form in her gut. “What?”

  “Your attorney already picked up your belongings.”

  “What? How?” Her heart sunk to her feet.

  “Did you sign a request for Greer?”

  Darby pressed her fingers to her forehead. “He had me sign a whole bunch of things before court the day before yesterday. I don’t specifically recall that form, but I wasn’t exactly at my best.” She stood and slapped the envelope against the desk. “Damn it! Something is really wrong, Jack. Greer didn’t say a word to me yesterday about taking my things out of police custody. Can he even do that? I mean, aren’t my clothes or the disposable phone evidence or something?”

  “He probably did the same thig I did, which was to ask a magistrate to take judicial notice of the items, then release them to the defense for private testing and investigation. In your confession you said you’d been wearing something else when you killed your daughter, and those items are in state custody pending testing since you told them there might be some blood on the top.” Jack was now pacing as well. “All I got was this,” he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a flimsy half-page document.

  She scanned the copy of the list they’d had her sign when she turned her belongings over to the police while she was being booked. “I need that phone to find Lyssa,” Darby said as tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Jack reached out and brushed them aside with the pads of his thumbs. “Don’t panic just yet,” he said. “Did you buy them with cash or a credit card?”

  “I used my business American Express. Why?”

  Jack smiled as his finger looped under her chin. “Then we might not need the actual phone to find her.”

  He checked his watch and in doing so, lowered his hand so that he was no longer touching her. Darby wanted to grab it back. Somehow the human touch was comforting to the panic knotting her gut.

  “Let me make a call.”

  “To who?”

  “The state’s attorney,” he said as he took out his cell. “Is he in? Jack Kavanaugh calling. It’s important.” There was a brief silence, then Jack asked, “Matt, I need you to come to Green Haven. I want you to sit in on the psych session with Darby Grisom.” Jack was quiet while the state’s attorney responded.

  “Greer is about to be fired and I promise you, you’ll want to hear this Besides, Green Haven is a five minute drive for you.” There was another short pause on their end. “Thanks. I owe you.”

  No sooner did Jack end the call than Greer was standing at the door, waiting for the guard to open the lock. He seemed uninterested in Darby but very interested in Jack.

  “Kavanaugh, right?” He extended his hand.

  Darby wasn’t in the mood for niceties. “Where are my things?” she demanded. “The stuff you signed out of the property room?”

  Greer seemed taken aback. “Sean said your act was all a front,” Greer said. “I guess a few days in here has cured you of your depression?”

  “Let’s take a second,” Jack inserted. “Mrs. Grisom and I have a previous relationship and she’s decided to have me represent her in this matter. So, your services will no longer be needed but I will need the items you took.”

  “Good luck,” Greer said. “Right now she’s probably the most hated woman in the county.” He turned to Darby. “I think some sort of diminished capacity is your only hope but your behavior yesterday and today is going to make that difficult. I know Fran believes your postpartum psychosis is why you killed your baby but the doctor who interviewed you yesterday found you evasive and less than honest.” He turned back to Jack. “My office will send over my files.”

  “And my items,” Darby added.

  “I gave those to Sean,” he said.

  Darby’s knees nearly buckled. “Why would you give my things to him when I’m your client?”

  “He said he was going to take the dress to the cleaners for your court appointment tomorrow.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Darby muttered. “You have no idea what you’ve done.” Greer looked at her with a bland expression, which only piled fuel on her fiery anger. “Just go. I can’t look at you anymore.”

  Greer walked out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

  “Now what?” Darby said with a hitch of emotion in her throat. “I knew Sean was up to something.”

  “Will Lyssa talk to him if he calls her?”

  Darby shook her head.

  “Grisom?” the guard opened the door. “Time for your session.”

  “What do I do?” she asked Jack.

  “Just be honest.”

  Darby was struggling to keep from crying as she and Jack were taken to a conference room. Unlike the interview room from the day before, this was a larger room and it was already half full. Fran was there and she offered a compassionate smile. Matt Johnson, the state’s attorney, was there, and seated next to him was a stenographer. There was also a heavyset man with a bad combover she assumed was the third psychiatrist she was supposed to convince she wasn’t crazy. He introduced himself as Dr. Rawlings, then everyone went around the room for the benefit of the stenographer and identified themselves for the record.

  Jack stood and said, “Thank you all for coming, but the reason for this session has changed. Mrs. Grisom is going to tell you a story. Her story. Darby?”

  She remained seated. “Where do I start?”

  “With your marriage,” Jack advised.

  She couldn’t look anyone in the eye, so she focused on the design of the wood grain on the tabletop, tracing it with her fingertip as she spoke. “I met and married my husband in six weeks. At first, he was the perfect husband. Kind, considerate, fun. But by the second week of our marriage a different side started to show. Sean got very possessive of my time. He even resented the time I spent walking my dog. I was very close to my parents but he somehow managed to isolate me from them as well as my other friends.” Having to talk about t
his now made Darby truly realize how calculating Sean had been, but at the beginning it had felt like he was just too in love with her to be apart for any length of time. She felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner.

  “The first incident was when I came home from work and found my dog dead in the garage. There was anti-freeze on the floor. Sean insisted it was just a fluke accident, that one of the cars must have leaked. I think I believed that because I wanted to. Or rather I didn’t want to think the alternative was possible.

  “I’m a veterinarian but I also have family money and shortly after my dog died, Sean came to me with the idea of opening a restaurant. He’s worked in fine dining his whole adult life, and he was my husband. I fronted the cash and he took over an existing space and opened the Tilefish Grille in less than three months.

  “Sean became very quick to anger after that. I assumed it was because I worked days and he worked nights and we weren’t spending enough time together. So we worked out a plan where he would come home for dinner each night, then go back to the restaurant. The first night I accidently burned the rolls and that was the first time he shoved me.” Darby hated saying all this to virtual strangers and she especially hated admitting it in front of Jack. Darby wondered how long she’d feel guilty for being so blind and stupid.

  “Did you call the police?” the state’s attorney asked.

  Darby shook her head. “I was embarrassed and I knew he was under a lot of pressure to get the restaurant going so I let it go. Even though he promised it would never happen again, it did. And it escalated. I was terrified of my husband. And then I got pregnant. At first I was excited and I hoped the baby would bring us together as a family.”

  “Did it?” Fran asked.

  “For a few days. No slaps, no choking me over some perceived slight. I knew he was cheating with another woman but by that point, I didn’t really care. Then two months ago I broke one of his cardinal rules. I burned something on the stove and when he came home, he caught me off guard and beat me. I was eight months pregnant and cowering on the floor and he was throwing plates and food and kicking me and I was terrified for my baby. As soon as Sean went back to the restaurant, I called my parents and told them everything that was going on.” She closed her eyes and tears ran down her cheeks. “If only I would have taken them up on their offer to come over immediately. If I would have gone there, they would still be alive.”

  “Are you claiming your husband killed your parents?” the state’s attorney asked.

  “I know he did. He taunted me with it. I can’t even count how many times after that that he threatened to kill me and the baby. I felt trapped. So I came up with an idea.”

  “I think this is where I come in,” Fran acknowledged.

  Darby lifted her eyes and looked at her doctor. “I’m sorry. I went on the computer and learned all about postpartum depression. Then I regurgitated what I’d learned to you. I didn’t have any options.”

  “You could have gotten a restraining order,” the state’s attorney interjected.

  “Sean would have ignored that and it would have made things worse. The last time I reached out for help he killed my parents.”

  The state’s attorney shuffled through some papers. “Their deaths were ruled accidental.”

  Darby felt a small resurgence of her anger. “I know my father did not leave his car on in the garage.”

  The state’s attorney pressed, “It happens with those new push-button ignitions.”

  “And my father knew that. There was a post-it note by the alarm pad to remind him.”

  “But the alarm never went off that night.”

  “Because Sean knew the codes. The one for the side door and the one to kill the alarm from inside the garage. My parents never, and I mean never, went to bed without setting the alarm.”

  The state’s attorney seemed unimpressed. “Did you tell all this to the responding officers?”

  “Yes. They dismissed me as some hormonal nut job and sent me home with my husband who choked me into unconsciousness as soon as we were in the door. With all due respect, Mr. Johnson, the police were useless.”

  “So, you…?”

  “I just wanted my baby to be safe. And the only way I knew she would be safe was to send her away.”

  “Away where?”

  Jack reached out and touched her forearm. “That’s a bit of a problem. She gave the baby to one of her clients and they were supposed to stay in touch via drop phones. However, previous counsel gave the cell phone to Mr. Grisom yesterday.”

  “And today he came by and dropped these in my lap,” Darby said, taking the divorce papers out of the envelope. “He basically told me that if I didn’t give him what he wants, he’ll somehow make up some story to make it look like I really did kill Mia.”

  Dr. Rawlings said, “Without commenting on your guilt or innocence, Mrs. Grisom, I can tell you right now that I’m not seeing any signs of any underlying pathology. Doctor?” he looked at Fran.

  “While I may not see postpartum psychosis after listening to her story, I personally saw choke marks on Mrs. Grisom at one of our sessions, which leads me to believe she very well could have acted out of a genuine fear for herself and/or her daughter.”

  “Which is not a defense,” the state’s attorney said. “Jack? Got a minute?”

  As Jack stood, he noticed Darby had almost twisted the divorce papers and the newspaper into a knot. Hopefully her truthful recitation of the facts would earn her some points with the state’s attorney.

  He followed Matt out into the hallway. At first, Matt just looked at him, his expression impossible to read. “Is this for real?”

  Jack nodded. “I met her when she was pregnant. She had me draw up a new Trust for her, making Lyssa Chandler the Alternate Trustee.”

  “Since when do you do Trusts?” Matt asked.

  Jack shrugged.

  “Oh please,” Matt said on an accusatory breath. “You let the fact that she’s hot influence you?”

  “She’s also rich,” Jack said with a straight face. “Okay. I was going to do the Trust for her because she was hot and rich but then I saw the bruises. You know how that kind of thing makes me crazy.”

  Matt’s expression immediately grew serious. “You can’t change what happened fifteen years ago.”

  “I know.” Jack brushed his hair off his forehead. “Listen, the bottom line is the baby isn’t dead and Darby only did what she did to protect her daughter.”

  “Except you can’t produce the daughter, right?”

  “Give me twenty-four hours,” Jack pleaded.

  Matt shrugged. “I’ll give you months,” he said.

  Jack was elated, then he read the blank expression on Matt’s face as he said, “Tomorrow morning I’m charging her with second-degree murder.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Darby felt a little more like herself as she stepped into the court room in real clothes. Thanks to Peggy, she was wearing a floral lace sheath dress and nude heeled sandals. Her hair was caught up in a clip and she had on a touch of blush and a little mascara.

  She’d been on pins and needles ever since Jack had brought her the clothes and then went over what would happen. Unfortunately, he didn’t think it would be a cakewalk to get the judge to intervene. Not in a case this high profile.

  And just how high profile it was was instantly apparent as she was led into the court room. The gallery was filled. She recognized a few of the local reporters, and Peggy was there in the second row. She smiled and gave Darby a discreet thumbs up. Sean was nowhere to be found. Darby didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  She joined Jack at the defendant’s table. “Is it always like this?” she whispered.

  “Word has already leaked out that something noteworthy will happen here today. Probably a move by Matt to help him run for office next Fall.”

  “How do you know so much about him?” Darby asked.

  “I worked for him for ten years.”

  Darby’s
stomach clenched. “Please tell me you parted on good terms?”

  Jack patted the small of her back. “I’ll be happy to tell you that.”

  “Thank you for arranging for the clothes.”

  “You’re welcome, except it wasn’t my doing. Peggy was here on the courthouse steps when I arrived.”

  Darby turned around and mouthed ‘thank you.’ She didn’t have an opportunity to see her friend’s response because the clerk announced the arrival of the judge.

  It was the same judge who had presided over her first hearing. He didn’t make eye contact with Darby but instead he looked at Matt.

  The prosecutor buttoned his jacket as he stood. “State versus Darby Hayes Grisom.”

  “And Mr. Kavanaugh?” the judge asked. “I see I have a motion here for replacement counsel?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fine then, let’s get through this stack of motions. Mr. Johnson?”

  “The State wishes to amend the charge to murder in the second degree.”

  “Mr. Kavanaugh, how does your client plead?”

  “If I may, Your Honor,” Jack said as he rose. “I provided the court with a transcript of a meeting yesterday attended by two psychiatrists and the state’s attorney. Based on that meeting, I have asked that all charges be dismissed as no crime has been committed by my client.”

  “Mr. Johnson?”

  “The State is sensitive to the defendant’s situation. However, we have been unable to locate the person whom the defendant claims has custody of the infant. Further, we have a notarized statement from the defendant’s husband swearing his belief that his wife is and was fully capable of murdering their minor child.”

  “Prick,” Darby muttered under her breath.

  “Further,” the prosecutor said, “we have preliminary lab results indicating that the baby’s blood was on the defendant’s clothing. The same clothing she was wearing as she was seen on videotape carrying a bundle to the canal behind the convenience store.”