Just Take My Heart

by Mary Higgins Clark

  “And it was necessary to drive a rented car that nobody would recognize?”

  “As I explained last week, Gregg answered, ”I wanted to go there quietly and I didn't want to upset her or confront her. I just wanted to see if she was alone."

  “If you wanted to find out if she was seeing anyone else, why didn't you hire a private investigator?”

  “That never occurred to me. I made a spontaneous decision to drive up to Cape Cod. I would never have hired anyone to spy on my wife. The thought is revolting to me,” Gregg said, his voice quiv?ering.

  “You testified that, by Sunday evening, you were satisfied that she was alone because you didn't see any other cars in the driveway. How do you know that she didn't pick up someone before you got there? How could you be so sure that there was no one else inside?”

  “I was sure.” Gregg Aldrich's voice was rising.

  “How could you be so sure? This was the most important issue in your life. How could you be so sure?”

  “I looked in the window. I saw her sitting alone. That's how I knew.”

  Emily, stunned at this new revelation, recognized instantly that Gregg Aldrich had just made a big mistake. Richard Moore knows it, too, she thought.

  “Did you get out of your car and walk up her lawn and look in her window?”

  “Yes, I did,” Gregg Aldrich said, defiantly.

  “What window did you look in?”

  “The window on the side of the house that looks into the den.”

  “And what time of the day or night was it when you did this?”

  “It was just before midnight on Saturday night.”

  “And so you were hiding in the bushes outside her home in the middle of the night?”

  “I didn't think of it that way,” Gregg answered, the defiance gone, his voice now hesitant. He leaned forward in the witness chair.

  “Can't you understand that I was worried about her? Can't you understand that if she had found someone else, I knew I had to go away?”

  “Then what did you think when you saw her alone?”

  “She looked so vulnerable. She was curled up like a child on the couch.”

  “And how do you think she would have reacted if she had seen a figure in the window at midnight?”

  “I was very careful not to let her see me. I did not want to frighten her.”

  “Were you then satisfied that she was alone?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Then why did you drive past her house again several times on Sunday?” Emily demanded.

  “You admitted it in your direct exami?nation.”

  “I was worried about her.”

  “So let me get this straight,” Emily said. “First, you tell us that you went there in your rented car just to find out if she was alone. Then you tell us that you were satisfied that she was alone after you peered in her window while you hid in the bushes at midnight. Now you tell us that on Sunday, even though you believe she's alone, you're driving around her neighborhood a good part of the day and into the evening. Is that what you're telling us?”

  “I'm telling you that I was worried about her and that's why I was there on Sunday.”

  “And what were you so worried about?”

  “I was worried about Natalie's emotional state. The way she had been curled up like that said to me that she was very upset.”

  “Did it occur to you that the reason she appeared to be upset might be your fault, Mr. Aldrich?”

  “Yes, it did. That was why, as I testified on Friday, on the drive home from the Cape, I think I made my peace with the fact that it was over between us. It's hard to explain but that was my thinking. If I was the cause of whatever was upsetting her, then I had to leave her alone.”

  “Mr. Aldrich, you did not find your wife with another man. Then on the way home, to quote you, you decided that Natalie was one of those people who are 'never less alone than when alone?' Aren't you telling this courtroom that either way you had lost her?”

  “No, I am not.”

  “Mr. Aldrich, isn't it fair to say that she simply didn't want to be with you anymore? And if something else was troubling her, she didn't turn to you for help. Isn't it true that she wanted you out of her life?”

  “I remember feeling on that drive down from the Cape that there was no point in hoping that Natalie and I would get back together.” “That upset you, didn't it?”

  Gregg Aldrich looked into Emily's eyes. "Of course I was upset. But something else was happening, a feeling of relief that at least I knew it was over. At least I wouldn't be consumed by her any longer.

  “You wouldn't be consumed by her anymore. Was that your reso?lution?”

  “I guess that's one way of putting it.”

  “And you didn't drive out to her home the next morning and shoot her?”

  “Absolutely not. Absolutely not.”

  “Mr. Aldrich, immediately after your wife's body was found, you were questioned by the police. Didn't they ask you if you could give them the name of even one person who might have seen you jog?ging in Central Park between, and I quote you, '7:15 or so and 10:05 when I returned the rental'?”

  “I wasn't looking at anyone that day. It was cold and windy. On days like that everyone who is jogging or running is bundled up. Some people have headphones on. The point is it's not a social get-together. People are into themselves.”

  “Would you say that you were into yourself for two and a half hours on a cold, windy March day?”

  “I used to run the November marathon. And I have clients were professional football players. They tell me that no matter how frigid the weather, the adrenaline would start pumping when they were on the field and they simply didn't feel the cold. I didn't either on that morning.”

  “Mr. Aldrich, let me ask you if this scenario is true. I suggest that your adrenaline was pumping that Monday morning when, by your own admission, you had decided that your wife, Natalie Raines, lost to you. I suggest that knowing she would be home at sometime that morning, you got in that rental car, made the thirty-minute drive to Closter, picked up the hide-a-key you knew was there, and waited inside her kitchen. Isn't that what happened?”

  “No. No. Never.”

  Emily, her eyes blazing, pointed her finger at the witness stand. Her tone loud and sarcastic, she said, “You killed your wife that morning, didn't you? You shot her and then you left her, thinking that she was already dead. You drove back to New York and then maybe jogged around Central Park, hoping you'd be seen. Isn't that right?”

  “No, it is not!”

  “And then a little while later, you returned the rental car that you had used to spy on your wife. Isn't that right, Mr. Aldrich?”

  Gregg Aldrich was now standing up and shouting. “I never hurt Natalie. I could never hurt Natalie.”

  “But you did hurt Natalie. You did more than hurt her. You killed her,” Emily shouted back at him.

  Moore was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor, objection Counsel is badgering the witness.”

  “Sustained. Prosecutor, lower your voice and rephrase the ques?tion.” Judge Stevens's tone left no doubt that he was irritated.

  “Did you kill your wife, Mr. Aldrich?” Emily asked, her voice now gentle.

  “No ... no ... ,” Gregg Aldrich protested, his voice breaking. “I loved Natalie, but. . .”

  “But, you had admitted to yourself. . .” Emily began.

  “Objection, Your Honor,” Moore thundered. “She won't let him complete his answers.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Stevens said. “Ms. Wallace, you are directed to allow the witness to complete his answers. I don't want to have to admonish you again.”

  Emily nodded in acknowledgment of the judge's instructions. She turned back to Aldrich. Her voice lowered, she said, “Mr. Al?drich, didn't you go to Cape Cod because Jimmy Easton had backed out of the deal to kill your wife for you?”

  Gregg shook his head hopelessly. “I met Jimmy Easton in a bar, had a few minutes' c
onversation with him, and I never saw him again.”

  “But you had paid him to stalk and kill her. Isn't that the way it happened?”

  “I didn't hire Jimmy Easton and I could never hurt Natalie!” Gregg protested, his shoulders shaking, his eyes filled with tears. “Can't you understand that? Can't anyone understand that?” His voice cracked and he broke into dry, racking sobs.

  Your Honor, may I request a recess?" Moore urged.

  “We will take a fifteen-minute break,” Judge Stevens ordered, “to give the witness a chance to compose himself.”

  A short time later, court resumed. Gregg had calmed down and re?turned to the witness stand. He appeared pale and seemingly re?signed to enduring more of Emily's scathing cross-examination.

  “I just have a few more questions, Your Honor,” Emily said as walked past the bench toward the witness stand. She stopped directly in front of it and, for a long moment, looked at him intensely.

  “Mr. Aldrich, you acknowledged on direct examination that in the living room of your apartment in New York, you do have a side table with a drawer that, when it is opened, emits a loud and distinctive squeak.”

  “Yes, that is true,” he answered faintly.

  “And would it be fair to say that Jimmy Easton accurately de?scribed that table and that sound?”

  “Yes, he did, but he was never in my home.”

  “Mr. Aldrich, you told us that this drawer is somewhat of a joke in your family, and that you all referred to it as 'a message from the de?parted spirits.'”

  “Yes, that is true.”

  “Sir, as far as you know, did Mr. Easton know any members your family?”

  “As far as I know, he did not.”

  “Did you have any mutual friends with Mr. Easton who might have joked about this drawer in his presence?”

  “As far as I know, we have no mutual friends.”

  “Mr. Aldrich, do you have any explanation whatsoever as to how Jimmy Easton could have so accurately described this piece of furniture and the sound it gave off if he has never been in your living room?”

  “I have racked my brain as to how he could have known. I have no idea.” Gregg's voice was beginning to break again.

  “One more thing, Mr. Aldrich. In the articles that appeared in various magazines about Natalie, was this drawer ever mentioned?”

  “No, it was not,” he said, despairingly. Clutching the arms of the witness chair, he turned to the jury. “I did not kill my wife,” he shouted. “I did not kill her. Please believe me. I . . . I . . .” Unable to continue, Gregg buried his face in his hands and wept.

  Ignoring the devastated figure on the witness stand, Emily said crisply, “Your Honor, I have no further questions,” then walked back toward her chair at counsel table.

  Moore and his son whispered quickly and decided against posing any further questions themselves. Richard Moore stood up. “Your Honor, the defense rests.”

  Judge Stevens looked at Gregg Aldrich. “Sir, you may step down.”

  Wearily, Gregg arose, murmured, “Thank you, Your Honor,” and slowly, as if every step were painful, went back to his chair.

  Judge Stevens then addressed Emily. “Is there any rebuttal from the prosecutor?”

  “No, Your Honor,” Emily said.

  The judge then turned toward the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, the testimony in this case is completed. I will take a forty-five-minute break to allow the attorneys to gather their thoughts for their summa?tions. Under our rules of court, the defense attorney goes first, and then the prosecutor. Depending upon how long the summations take, I will give you my final legal instructions either late this after?noon or tomorrow morning. After my instructions are finished, we will randomly select the alternates and the final twelve jurors will begin their deliberations.”

  Just Take My Heart

  36

  When court recessed on Monday afternoon, Emily had just fin?ished her powerful summation. Moore did his best, she thought, but he couldn't get around that drawer. She had left the courtroom cau?tiously optimistic that soon Gregg Aldrich would be in a prison cell. The case would be given to the jury tomorrow. How long will it take them to decide? she wondered. And hopefully there will be a decision. She shuddered at the thought of a hung jury and having to d this all over again.

  On the way home she stopped in the supermarket, intending only to pick up some basics like milk, soup, and bread. But when she passed the meat counter, she stopped. The thought of a steak and baked potato for dinner, particularly after all of the take-out food the last few months, was suddenly very appealing.

  Exhaustion was seeping into her bones as she took the items to the checkout counter. By the time she was pulling into her drive fifteen minutes later, she wondered if she would have the energy to grill the steak.

  There was no sign of Zach's car and she remembered that he had told her that his hours at work had changed. The new flower beds had been soaked in the driving rain that had lasted most of the day. She found it unsettling to look at them.

  As she unpacked the grocery bag, she let Bess run in the backyard for a few minutes, then went upstairs to her bedroom. She changed into an old pair of cotton jogging pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and stretched out on the bed. Bess snuggled up to her and she pulled the coverlet over both of them. “Bess, I have fought the good fight. Now let's see what happens,” she said as she closed her eyes.

  For two hours she slept and was awakened by her own voice whimpering “Please don't. . . please don't. . .”

  She bolted upright from the pillow. Am I crazy? she asked her?self. What was I dreaming?

  Then she remembered. I was frightened and I was trying to stop someone from hurting me.

  She realized that she was trembling.

  She could see that Bess was aware that she was upset. She pulled her dog close to her and said, “Bess, I'm glad you're here. That dream was so real. And pretty scary. The only person I know who would really want to get me is Gregg Aldrich, but I'm certainly not afraid of him.”

  A thought suddenly struck her. And neither was Natalie. She, too, believed he would never hurt her.

  My God, what's the matter with me? she asked herself, impa?tiently. She looked at the clock. It was ten of eight. Time to cook a decent dinner, catch up on the paper, and then watch Courtside.

  After everything that went on today, she thought, let's see if Michael Gordon is still so sure his buddy is innocent.

  Just Take My Heart

  37

  It was not a good day in court for Gregg Aldrich,“ Michael Gordon said somberly as the opening credits for Courtside appeared on-screen. ”A confident and seemingly credible Gregg Aldrich on direct examination last Friday came across very differently today. The courtroom was stunned when for the first time, he admitted that he had hidden in the bushes at midnight outside his wife's Cape Cod home and watched her as she sat alone. This occurred just about thirty-two hours before Natalie Raines was shot in the kitchen of her New Jersey residence, after returning from Cape Cod."

  The Courtside panel all nodded their heads in agreement. Judge Bernard Reilly, who on Friday evening had expressed understanding of how a chance encounter in a bar could lead to bizarre and unfair accusations, now acknowledged that he was deeply troubled by Gregg Aldrich's performance under blistering cross-examination. “I felt for Richard Moore when Aldrich admitted he had his nose pressed against the windowpane at midnight. I'll bet anything that he had never told Moore he did that.”

  Georgette Cassotta, a criminal psychologist, said, “Let me tell you. That image sent shivers through the women on the jury. And you can bet that the men on the jury also reacted strongly. He went from the concerned husband on direct examination to a Peeping Tom on cross-examination. And going back past her house again on Sunday, after he admitted that he was satisfied by Saturday night that she was alone, could have sealed his fate.”

  “And there's something else that really helped the prosecution's case today,” Ju
dge Reilly added. “I think Emily Wallace was very ef?fective in the way she approached the issue of the squeaky drawer. She gave Aldrich every opportunity to suggest an explanation for Easton's knowledge of that table and that drawer. He couldn't come up with anything. He and Moore had to know that she was going to pound on that. The problem is that he didn't come across as some?one who honestly just didn't have an explanation. He came across like someone who had been cornered.”

  “But if he really didn't do it,” Gordon said, “and if he really doesn't know, couldn't that have been the reaction of a man who feels entrapped and in despair?”

  “I think at this point that Gregg Aldrich's best shot is that one or two jurors react that way and he gets a hung jury,” Judge Reilly responded. “I just don't see twelve jurors voting not guilty, frankly.”

  Just before the program ended, Michael Gordon reminded his viewers that as soon as Judge Stevens finishes his instructions on the law, the jurors would begin to deliberate. “Probably around eleven o'clock,” he said. "And at that time you will be able to vote on our Web site as to whether you believe Gregg Aldrich will be found guilty or not guilty of the murder of his wife. Or, whether there will be no unanimous decision either way, which would result in a hung jury and another trial.

  “I seriously doubt that we will have a verdict by broadcast time tomorrow evening,” Michael continued. “You can cast your vote right up until the jury informs Judge Stevens that they have reached a verdict. If there is no verdict by tomorrow night, we'll talk about the results of the voting so far. And now good night from all of us.”

  Just Take My Heart

  38

  It got really bad today,“ Belle Garcia glumly told her husband, Sal, as Michael Gordon said good night to his viewing audience. I mean, only last Friday, Michael came out and said that he thought: Gregg was innocent. But tonight, he admits that Gregg's perfor?mance didn't help him one bit.”

  Sal looked up over his glasses. “Performance? I thought actors performed.”