by Carsen Taite
Months later, during her fifth trial, she reflected there was only so much preparation you could do for the real thing. Though good defense attorneys hired investigators and researched every angle before the big day, there was no way to prepare for the stories witnesses concocted, often for the first time, while they were on the stand—this after having taken an oath, hand raised high, to tell the truth, nothing but the truth, so help me God. She was often tempted to ask the judge to make the witness show his other hand so she could make sure fingers weren’t crossed. After years of trying cases, she had come to the conclusion most witnesses made shit up, and the shit they made up was so necessary to preserving their view of the ways things should have happened or must have happened that they would have gambled their lives on the truth of their testimony.
She’d once tried a murder case where six witnesses testified, consistently, the dead man was really and truly dead when they had come upon him. But the victim’s father was the seventh witness and, not privy to what the other witnesses revealed about the condition of his son during their testimony, no sooner did he take his oath than he blurted out a revelation: his son had made a dying declaration. With his last breath, the poor boy confided to his father that Morgan’s client shot him, point blank. Hell, even the prosecutor almost fell out of his chair at the revelation. But he recovered nicely and asked the necessary follow-up questions to ensure the grieving father’s revelation would be admissible into evidence. Morgan would never know for certain whether the prosecutor’s surprise at this astounding piece of evidence was feigned. There was no doubt, however, of the effect it had on the jury. They hung on the grieving father’s every word and attributed not a whit of importance to the fact he had been interviewed by the police four times and hadn’t mentioned the fact his son named his killer with his last breath to either them or a single other soul before he offered it up in open court. No amount of preparation could have equipped Morgan to deal with his lies, and only years of experience enabled her to continue the trial without letting anyone see she wanted to throw up in the middle of the courtroom. Remembering the nauseated feeling as if it were yesterday, Morgan knew her students would have to suffer plenty of nausea on their own if they were going to develop into good litigators.
As she glanced around the room, her gaze settled on Parker and she realized she was spending more time thinking about her than she was the facts of this case. Of all of her students, Parker was the one in whose abilities she was most confident. She had already perfected the art of questioning witnesses, although her experiences had taken place in less sterile environments than the courtroom. Equally impressive was the fact she had testified in dozens of complicated cases over the years. Though she had a lot to learn about lawyering, Parker came equipped with the skills to learn fast and well. Once she graduated, she would make a fantastic addition to whatever practice she chose to join. Morgan vowed not to do anything to jeopardize Parker’s chances at success.
They went around the room and offered their reports. Morgan would pick the jury with Dex and Gerald taking notes. She added Gerald to this task only after her talk with Yolanda and because she felt she needed to throw her a bone. Ford and Morgan would split the witnesses. Morgan reserved Detective Keaton for herself, ignoring Parker’s raised eyebrows at this pronouncement. Dex and Parker would be responsible for working with Jake to run down any new issues likely to crop up during trial, as well as handling witnesses for the defense. This last was a lean task since Luis had only one sister who lived in the States and no one else had been convinced to step forward to speak on his behalf. Jake was still working to convince at least some of the other Burke family employees to vouch for the good character of the handyman or tell what they might know about what he was actually doing in the house that night, but the Burke influence easily extended its reach to curb the willingness of their staff to speak in favor of the man who allegedly brutalized their only daughter.
After they settled on their respective assignments, Morgan asked if anyone had anything to report. Jake reported he had one more friend of Camille’s to talk to and he was going to get in contact with her when she returned to the United States, but he didn’t hold out much hope the interview would yield any helpful evidence. Morgan was about to adjourn the meeting when Parker cleared her throat. She had avoided direct eye contact with her up until this point and barely broke the barrier now. Waving a hand in Parker’s direction, she indicated she should speak.
“I’ve been looking over the autopsy report and the crime scene photos with a doctor friend of mine.” Parker hesitated. She had a theory but nothing concrete to support it. And even if her theory was spot on, she didn’t have a clue what it meant. Here they were, the weekend before trial. Was this the time to be throwing a wrench in the works? Ignoring the internal questions, she spat out her conclusion before she could censor it to death. “I think Camille Burke was poisoned.”
Gerald smirked and Ford coughed away a snort of laughter. Dex, steadfastly loyal, maintained a neutral expression. But the reaction Parker focused on was Morgan’s raised eyebrows and she met her eyes straight on.
“You do, do you?” Morgan’s tone conveyed her disbelief.
Parker resisted the urge to bristle. Logic told her even the members of her team would think her crazy poison theory didn’t have legs to stand on. There wasn’t much to it anyway. She surmised Camille Burke had been poisoned before she was shot in the face, but her theory stopped there. She had no idea how or why and had not a clue as to how this piece of the puzzle fit into their mission of defending Luis Chavez. If Luis shot Camille, did it even matter whether or not she had been poisoned? Was she already dead when she was shot? Parker realized her theory raised more questions than answers, but there was value in the uncertainty. The jury would be instructed to acquit Luis if they had a reasonable doubt about his guilt. Any reasonable doubt. Parker knew her theory that Camille Burke was poisoned did little to answer the question of who killed her, but it certainly raised some reasonable doubt. Why would a handyman with a gun take the time to poison Camille before shooting her?
Parker channeled her thoughts into a simple answer. “Yes. And if she was poisoned before she was shot, it raises some doubt as to the identity of her killer or even as to whether she was already dead when she was shot.” Her words were directed at Morgan and for the next few moments it felt as if they were the only ones in the room.
“What support do you have for the proposition she was poisoned?” Morgan’s question was direct and Parker felt like she was on the witness stand.
“I was looking at the crime scene photos and realized something seemed off. Teddy Burke told the cops he heard a gunshot and within moments called nine-one-one. The first police unit arrived on the scene within fifteen minutes. The autopsy report puts the time of death right around the time of the nine-one-one call.”
Parker paused and Ford prompted her along. “Nothing out of the ordinary there.”
“Look at the photos,” Parker responded. “These were taken by the crime scene investigator, about an hour after the first unit arrived on the scene. Camille Burke is in full rigor.” Parker pointed at one of the photographs. “No gunshot victim goes into rigor that fast.”
“How do you make the jump she was poisoned?” Ford asked.
“It’s a hunch. I worked a case once where an angry wife put a heaping dose of strychnine in her husband’s morning coffee. She waited till he finished convulsing and called for an ambulance. She told the paramedics who found him dead under the kitchen table that he had a history of heart disease and that he had probably suffered a heart attack. The hospital doctor was suspicious about the condition of his body and ordered a toxicology report. The guy, like Camille, was in full rigor mortis, just an hour after he had died. The toxicology report showed the presence of large amounts of strychnine, which causes the body to experience such strong convulsions that the victim’s body contorts into weird positions and rigor mortis sets in almost immediately a
fter death. That just doesn’t happen from a gunshot wound.”
Ford pressed. “What were the toxicology results?”
“No report was done.” Parker took a deep breath. Even as she spoke, she sensed Morgan and the others doubted she had the expertise necessary to draw the conclusion she had. She ended with a statement designed to bolster her supposition. “When I discussed this information with Dr. Williams, I detected a reaction from her. If this were her case, she would’ve ordered a tox screen to see if she could confirm the poison angle.” She instantly regretted her words.
Morgan came up out of her chair. “You discussed this with who?”
“Dr. Williams. A medical examiner. Not the one who did the autopsy. She said we would need to get the prosecutor or detective to instruct her to run additional tests or obtain a court order.”
“Parker, what the hell were you thinking? She’s a county employee. Anything you tell her, she’s going to run off and share with the prosecutor. If you had a valid theory—big if—then we would bring in an independent expert to determine if it was something worth following up on. Now, even if you are onto something, the other side knows it and can do whatever they think necessary to subvert our efforts. Typical cop—not thinking things through.” Morgan was so angry, she didn’t realize she had spoken the last thought out loud, but she could tell her words cut Parker to the core. She could see the pain in Parker’s eyes and she fought dueling desires to comfort and to push away. She decided the latter was the best path for both of them and she resisted the urge to soften her blows. “I’m tempted to ask you to leave the team.”
Parker hid her hurt, but let her anger show full force. Staring directly at Morgan, she pronounced, “No need. Consider me gone.”
Morgan felt foolish as she watched Parker stalk out of the room. She hadn’t expected her to actually leave. She’d imagined they would exchange more angry words but would then put their differences aside. The last thing she wanted was for Parker to quit the team, especially now that she had decided to forgo a chance at a relationship. If Parker quit now, she wouldn’t get any credit for the long semester’s work. Addressing the group, she suggested they take a break. The words were no sooner out of her mouth than Jake and Dex shot out of the room. Ford pulled up a chair to sit beside her and asked, “Do you want to talk about what’s going on?”
“You mean my lack of temperament for this teaching job?” Morgan knew what he meant and she wondered how many of the others caught the undercurrent of the conflict between her and Parker. She loved Ford like a brother, but she couldn’t get into the details now. She needed every ounce of her composure for the battles of the week ahead. Avoiding his eyes, she said, “I’m sorry for the outburst. I’m not used to being ambushed by someone on my side. I know she was trying to help, but her methods took me by surprise.”
Ford looked at her for an extended time as if divining her true thoughts. Finally, he spoke and his words were layered with meaning. “She’s not your average law student.”
*
Parker’s strides were long and carried her quickly down the hall. She heard light footfalls behind her but ignored them in her haste to get away.
“Parker, wait. I want to talk to you.”
Parker glanced back and saw Gerald trying to catch up to her. What the hell was he doing? Of all the people I thought might try to get me to come back, he’s the last candidate. Besides Morgan, she added. After all, she’s the one who wanted me to leave so badly she would shame me in front of the rest of the group. Curiosity overtook her desire to flee and she stopped.
“What is it, Gerald?” she snapped.
“Don’t be mad at me. I’m not the one who threw you off the team.”
Parker tempered her tone. “Sorry. Look, I’m in a hurry to get out of here. Is there something you want?”
“I was checking to see if you were all right.”
The gleam in his eyes told Parker right away he was lying. Checking to see if I’m all right. Fat chance. More like he was gloating at her distress. This guy isn’t even human. Parker wasn’t up for another confrontation, though, and she decided it would be easier to play along.
“I’m fine. I just need to get out of here. Did you need something else?” The question was dismissive. Parker wasn’t remotely prepared for Gerald’s next words.
“I mean, it must hurt to have your lover betray you, especially in front of so many others.”
Parker felt a slow sour curl in her belly and the taste of bile rendered her speechless. Gerald took her silence as tacit permission to continue his ramblings.
“She’s not all that. You could do so much better. I know it must have been nice to be her favorite, considering you’re so focused on beating everyone else out to graduate first in our class. I know you would do anything to achieve your goals, but her? She’s washed up. If she isn’t, then why is she here teaching? How lucky for you she’s a man-hating dyke. Too bad she’s also a user. She used you for a good time and gave you nothing in return. Bet you were counting on a much bigger return on your investment. Well, you’ll be happy to know she won’t be teaching here much longer, so I guess all your efforts were for nothing.”
Roaring rage blacked out all other emotion. Parker grabbed Gerald’s shirt and slammed him against the wall. She twisted the cloth of his shirt and watched with satisfaction as red rose from his constricted neck to his scared and darting eyes. She twisted harder, ignoring the pull of strong hands on her shoulders.
“Parker, for crying out loud, let him go.” It took both Dex and Jake to pull her off the whimpering Gerald. She was in kill mode and continued to fight against their grasp even as Gerald ran down the hall, far away from her fury.
With Gerald gone, Parker directed her anger at the others. “Leave me alone.”
Dex grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Why? So you can beat the hell out of Gerald? What did he say to you?”
Parker struggled to regain her composure. She had no desire to rehash what had transpired. More than anything she wanted to get away from this place since it no longer held familiarity and comfort. Getting involved with Morgan was the stupidest move she had ever made. She had broken her rule of mixing work and pleasure, and the price she paid was safety. Years of education, her stellar GPA, her class standing—all were no longer safe because she traded a few grabs at lust for the prize of scholarship and success. Apparently, the lessons she learned from her lost career had been for nothing. All she wanted right now was to be alone—her only sanctuary.
She faced him. “Dex, let me go. I swear I won’t go after him.”
He held her for several seconds longer as if unsure whether to believe her assurances. Finally, he released his grasp. “Wanna talk about what just happened?”
“No.” She started to say more but saw Jake standing patiently behind Dex. “Not right now.”
“Forget about him. Come work out with me.”
“I don’t have the energy.” Parker knew Dex was trying to distract her from the swirl of thoughts and maybe he was right. A brutal hour of weightlifting might be exactly what she needed. Trade one kind of pain for another. She was torn, but her desire to be alone and safe won out. “All I want to do right now is leave here.” Seeing the hurt look in Dex’s eyes, she tossed out a compromise. “Let’s talk later. Call me.”
He nodded and she almost felt bad. She knew she wouldn’t answer when he called. She was already erecting walls and couldn’t risk her safety by allowing anyone in. She would say whatever was necessary to leave in peace and begin her task.
*
Parker heard the doorbell and ignored it. She didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. The doorbell kept up its insistent ringing and she willed her mind to another place. Finally, she heard the front door open and the ringing stopped. The sound of a woman’s insistent voice roused her from her stupor.
“I need to talk to Parker. Now.”
Kelsey’s reply was forceful. “Look, Detective. Unless you have a warrant,
you don’t have any right to push your way in here. Tell me what you want and then I’ll decide if it’s worth bothering her.”
“Kelsey, I know you’re trying to protect her, but I’m only here to help. I have some information Parker asked me to get. I think she’s going to want to see it.”
“Go away, Skye. Don’t you think you’ve caused her enough pain in one lifetime?”
Skye entreated again. “Please, Kelsey. I know Parker doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
Kelsey relented. “Come in, but wait down here. I’ll ask if she wants to see you. If she doesn’t, I’ll need you to leave. Understood?”
As Parker listened to Kelsey climb the stairs, she wondered what Skye was doing on her doorstep on a Sunday afternoon. Maybe it wasn’t Sunday. Parker couldn’t really be sure. Kelsey didn’t knock before she entered. The room was dimly lit, but Kelsey’s gasp told Parker she’d been spotted. Parker looked over at the mirror and saw she was dressed in the same clothes she’d worn home Friday night. Dark circles surrounded her red-rimmed eyes. Her usually wavy hair hung limp and lifeless. Kelsey sat on the arm of her chair and drew her close. Stroking her head, she murmured endearing comforts. “Honey, whatever it is you’re going to be okay. We’ve gotten through worse before, I’m sure of it. Let it go, sweetheart, let it go.”
Parker leaned into Kelsey’s arms and tried to let go of the hurt, the pain. She’d spent the last two days thinking, and her thoughts were driving her further inward. She knew it wasn’t healthy. She knew action had the greater power to heal, but she wasn’t ready to heal. She had only enough energy to wallow in her pain, soak it in, and make sure the memory of it was so ingrained in her being she could never allow it to catch her by surprise again.