Trial by Blood

by William Bernhardt

  Ossie pressed his hands against the table, breathing heavily. “I was so worried. I know you put on a good case, but—”

  He nodded. “But it’s not the same as hearing ‘not guilty’ from the jurors’ lips.”

  Judge Smulders pounded his gavel, possibly for the first time in his life, calling for order. He thanked and discharged the jury, then added, “The defendant is free to go.”

  Dan patted Ossie on the back. “Congratulations. Justice prevails.”

  “Only because of you. You and your team.”

  “You should thank the jurors, if you get a chance. They showed a lot of courage and followed their consciences, not the party line.”

  “I will. Speaking of the party line—” He pointed.

  Kilpatrick stood behind him, hand outstretched. “Congratulations, counsel. You put another murderer back on the street.”

  He gave the man a questioning look. “You’re not still pretending you think Ossie committed this murder, are you? This prosecution was bogus from the start. Ossie was framed. Admit it.”

  “I’m not even admitting your client is Ossie.”

  “Aw, don’t be a sore loser. He’s completely innocent.”

  “For your sake, I hope you’re right. If he kills again—it’s on your conscience.”

  What a buzzkill. “I’m confident that won’t happen. And please take a message to your boss. Tell Belasco I know what he did—and I’m coming for him.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Nope. A guarantee. By the way—is this really the first trial you’ve ever lost?”

  Kilpatrick sighed heavily. “It is. And once this hits social media...”

  “You’ll have to reduce your astronomical fee?”

  “Among other things.” Kilpatrick smiled. “Still better than taking orders from some anonymous puppet master whose motives are completely unknown, moving his little lawyers around like pawns on a chessboard.”

  “I’d rather be directed by a grandmaster whose endgame—” He stopped short.

  His eyes darted back and forth. Something was teasing him, something he knew was missing but couldn’t nail down. Something that had been darting back and forth on the rim of his subconscious but never quite announcing itself...

  Architect. Astronaut. Med school.

  No, that wasn’t it exactly. But something...

  Small scar. Syringe. Civil suit.

  Something, some idea, some observation, was waving its arms, trying to get his attention. But he just couldn’t zero in...

  Pole dance. Cold case. Two tours. I take what I’m owed...

  “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  Kilpatrick tilted his head. “You okay, Pike?”

  “I’m fine...I think...”

  “Because you look like you’re having a brain seizure.”

  “Something has seized my brain all right. Something that should have seized it a long time ago. Good luck with your life, Kilpatrick. Hope I never see you again.”

  He whirled back to his table. “Maria, can you take care of Ossie? Collect his belongings and get him out of the jailhouse?”

  “Well, sure, but—”

  “I don’t think he should go back to the foster home, at least not right away. Put him up at our office. Buy him whatever he needs.”

  “What are you going to be doing?”

  He grabbed his backpack and raced toward the door. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

  “But—”

  “Because if I’m not mistaken, the murderer is about to strike again.”

  Chapter 49

  Dan raced to the front door of the mansion and hesitated barely a second. He wasn’t sure if he should ring the bell or just burst inside. Entering uninvited, of course, was technically trespassing. Plus it could lead to someone shooting him in the face. And then bio-cremating the body.

  But if he didn’t hurry, someone else might die. And that’s what he had to prevent.

  He tried the door. Unlocked. He ran inside. “Zachary? Where are you?”

  He found them in the library, the patriarch, Zachary Coleman, plus his two sons and daughter-in-law. Benny and Dolly sat on the sofa. Phil leaned against the mantle where a completely unnecessary fire blazed. The old man sat in his wheelchair, holding a brandy snifter.

  Phil was the first to speak. “Pike? What are you doing here?”

  “Averting a tragedy.”

  “I’m calling our lawyers. This is completely inappropriate. You have no right—”

  “Every citizen has the right to prevent a murder.”

  Zachary set down his glass and wheeled forward. “Pike, I am sick and tired of your insinuations.”

  “I’m sure they have been inconvenient.”

  “I came to you, initially, because I thought you were an honorable man and I didn’t want that boy to get hurt. You got him acquited. Fine. What do you want now?”

  “The truth.”

  “You wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped you in the face.”

  “If by that you mean I’ve been slow on the uptake—you’re right. Embarrassingly so. I’ve had a lot on my mind. But once I got that trial out of my head, I managed to have a moment of clarity.”

  “So now that your client is off the hook, you’re coming after me?”

  He stood his ground. “You’ve been lying for a long time, Zachary. About many things. Going back for years.”

  “I loved my son. I love all my sons.”

  “The sad thing is, I think that’s true. You like them all, even...” He gestured toward the two other men in the room. “But every parent has a strong attachment to their first and eldest. Which is why this has all been so hard on you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Phil stood behind his father’s chair. “This is harassment, Pike, and I won’t stand for it. First I’m calling our lawyers. Then the police.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  “You can do that—but I think you’ll regret it.”

  Phil hesitated.

  Dan returned his attention to the patriarch. “You didn’t approve when your eldest son—Carl—married, did you?”

  “That woman was trash. Poor and simple. Gutter trash. Couldn’t even speak proper English.”

  “Was she evil?”

  “Ruby lured my son into marriage. The way women usually do.”

  “Was she a bad mother?”

  “She didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t worthy of the family name.”

  “But she handled your son. For a time. She knew the truth about him—just as you did. But she didn’t leave him, didn’t report him. And for a while, she kept him under control.” He paused. “Until no one could keep him under control. Not even you.”

  “What’s he talking about, Papa?” Phil asked. “Why is he talking about keeping Carl under control?”

  Zachary glared at Dan, daggers shooting from his eyes. “There is no cause for this.”

  “I think there is.”

  “It’s over. Ancient history. You’re digging up the past for no good reason.”

  “You made it necessary.” He waited, but Zachary said nothing. He looked tired. Given the man’s poor health, he didn’t want to push him too hard. But it had to be said. “When did you find out? Truthfully?”

  Zachary said nothing for a long time. And then, all at once, it was almost as if scales had lifted from his eyes. His shoulders sagged, not so much in resignation as...release. “Carl was always...unusual. Even as a boy. Liked to start fires. First down in the sewers. Then closer to home. When he was ten, he started a blaze in the basement that threatened the whole house. Then he started killing small animals. Turned out he was torturing them, only killing them when he was done playing.”

  Phil’s face paled. “Is that what happened to Snowball?’

  Zachary pursed his lips. “And every other pet. Finally had to tell the kids they couldn’t have any more animals. But I didn’t know what to do
about Carl. I worried that...in time, animals wouldn’t be enough to satiate him. Sent him to a teen military academy. That gave me some rest. But it didn’t change him. When he got out...he was just the same. Only stronger. And soon after that, he met Ruby.”

  “You probably could’ve stopped his marriage,” Dan said. “Or had it annulled. But you didn’t.”

  “Ruby was completely unsuited to be a member of this family.” He sighed. “But...”

  “You hoped marriage might change Carl. That she might be a good influence. Might direct his energy in a less...cruel direction.”

  “I did. But it didn’t work, of course. Nothing worked.”

  “Turned out he liked young boys, didn’t he?”

  Zachary clenched his teeth. “Not in the disgusting way you’re suggesting.”

  “He wasn’t drawn to them sexually. He was drawn to them murderously. He liked to torture. And maim. And kill. And at some point...mummify. Make death masks. When did you learn he’d advanced to human victims?”

  “There was an...incident. Out near Sawgrass Lake. I had to spread a lot of money around to keep it quiet. But after that, I told Carl to get the hell out. Didn’t want to see him again. Gave him some money and told him to go.”

  “Did he agree?”

  “Given what I knew, and the fact that I controlled the money...he had no choice. A word from me and he would’ve been behind bars for the rest of his life.”

  “How did he take it? Being expelled from the family.”

  “Not...well. He swore he’d get even with me.” Zachary’s eyes looked as if they were heavier than stone. “And he did.”

  Phil stared at his father, uncomprehending. “You told everyone Carl died. That he—he had an incurable illness.”

  “That he did.” Zachary averted his eyes. “But it didn’t kill him. Unfortunately.”

  “You had records forged or destroyed to support your lie, to convince the world that Carl was dead. Probably used Sweeney to help pull that off. Except he did it a little too well, didn’t he? When Carl’s records were destroyed, Ossie’s were lost as well.”

  Zachary did not reply.

  Dan glanced at his watch. He needed to keep the man talking. “He used the money to build that cabin, right? Or buy it. He set up shop in a remote location. Off your radar.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Once he supposedly died, disappeared, you tried to take Ossie from his mother.”

  “That woman couldn’t raise my heir. She had no idea what it meant to be a member of this family. We argued, fought—physically. She hurt me, and I’m afraid I hurt her.”

  “So she ran. She loved her boy and wouldn’t let you take him from her. She left that note for you—You will never find him. But she couldn’t get far enough fast enough. You sent people after her. The police think she killed herself...but I don’t. Not while her son was still alive.”

  “There was a...mistake.” Tears began to seep from the elderly man’s eyes. “One of my men, Derrick, got himself killed. After that, Ruby got desperate. She ran to a motel, but my men found her. One of them burst into the room. She fired a gun, wounding him. There was a struggle. She ended up dead. I didn’t want that. I never wanted her dead! Just...gone. I never told them to kill her.”

  The silence hung like a blanket for several seconds. “And during the struggle...Ossie disappeared.”

  Zachary’s head and shoulders drooped. “I looked everywhere. Tried everything. Spent millions. Couldn’t find him.”

  “You didn’t know he was with his father. Though I wonder if you didn’t suspect. You knew Carl was still around. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came to you every now and again for money.”

  Zachary stared up at him, tears streaking his face.

  “I won’t ask you to admit it. What could you do? Paying a little go-away money probably seemed the simplest solution.”

  “Carl must’ve been shadowing Ruby the day she was killed. Maybe she contacted him somehow. I don’t know.”

  “But when she was killed, Carl realized the best possible way he could get even with you. To torture you. Take your beloved grandson and disappear. Let you spend a lifetime searching for someone you would never find. Which technically, he had the legal right to do. He wasn’t just a random serial killer, after all. He was the boy’s father.”

  “If I’d had any idea,” Zachary said, his voice choking. “If I’d only known...”

  “So Carl continued as before, low profile. Going into town for food and young boys when he needed to, but never harming the son he raised. Probably didn’t explain that he was the boy’s father, at least not at first, given that Ossie called him ‘Joe.’ Brought back supplies, even books. Homeschooled the boy, in his own twisted way.”

  Dan had noticed that Ossie had a superb vocabulary—and now he understood why. He’d been educated by Carl, who had been given a first-rate education by his father, Zachary, who was determined to eradicate all traces of his poor origins. The atypical way the whole family spoke should’ve been his first clue to solving this puzzle.

  “I hope to God Carl kept his side activities out of Ossie’s line of sight. Though he did make a life mask of Ossie, so...” Dan drew in his breath. “I don’t know exactly what brought it to an end. But I like to think Carl knew he was sick. About to die. Maybe he had some mini-strokes. And he didn’t want to leave his son untended. So he told the boy who he was and reached out to Harrison.”

  Benny stared at them, eyes bugging. “No.”

  “We know there was some kind of struggle. Ossie suffered a huge blow to the head, back at the cabin, probably during a struggle with his father. I know he had been poorly fed, isolated, mistreated, lied to. Imagine it—the emotional trauma, losing the man who raised him, being alone with a corpse. He had probably been malnourished for years, and a B-12 deficiency can induce memory loss, just like a blow to the head. Honestly, it’s amazing Ossie’s brain is as sound as it is.”

  “You don’t know any of that,” Dolly scoffed.

  “No, I don’t know it. But it makes sense. When Harrison got to the cabin, no doubt using some kind of detailed directions or GPS pin, he found Carl dead and his nephew untended. A huge mess he didn’t know how to handle. He didn’t want the police to know anything about the cabin and what Carl had been doing all these years. He didn’t want Ossie tainted with his father’s crimes. So he brought the boy back to St. Petersburg and left him to be discovered by the police. Maybe Ossie hurt himself then. It’s not impossible that Harrison hit the boy, trying to knock him out, but causing or augmenting the memory loss.”

  “Harrison would never do that,” Dolly said.

  “Maybe. Ossie’s brain was fogged but he knew who he was. His father and Harrison both told him who he was, and one of them left a card bearing his name in his pocket. And he vaguely remembered something about war dogs. Except it wasn’t war dogs—it was dogs of war. Harrison was the Shakespeare buff, and he knew what he was setting in motion that night. Given the situation, I can totally imagine him quoting Julius Caesar. ‘Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.’”

  Benny stared at him. “So that boy...really is my nephew?”

  “Certainly looks that way.”

  “Then why did he go to see Harrison? The night Harrison was murdered?”

  “I think he did it for exactly the reason he said he did. You can hear it in the audio recording. He wanted Harrison’s support. He needed a friend. Maybe he was starting to remember that Harrison had been involved in his reemergence. Maybe he just thought Harrison was his nicest relative.”

  Dolly gave him a cold look.

  “But it didn’t work. He pushed hard, but Harrison had already stuck his neck out as far as he cared to go. He couldn’t support Ossie without revealing what he knew about Carl—which would destroy his father, and probably the whole family. I think he felt bad about it and might well have changed his mind later. If he’d had the chance.” He turned toward the fireplace. “That’s what you
had to prevent, isn’t it, Phil?”

  Phil looked startled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pike.”

  “I can tell you’re lying just looking at you, and I’ll bet I’m not the only one. I don’t need micro-expressions to read that much guilt.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “No, but I think you might be somewhat crazy—given what you did. Seems to run in this family.”

  Benny turned slowly. “What is he talking about, Phil?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Phil—”

  “I said I have no idea.”

  Zachary looked as if he were about to explode. “I am sick to death of all this lying!” His entire body trembled. “For God’s sake—let this nightmare end.”

  Phil wrapped his arms around himself and said nothing.

  “Let me help you tell your family the truth,” Dan said. “You’re deep in debt. That’s the real reason you sold your car and your house.”

  Phil shrugged. “Businesses take downturns.”

  “You’re in so deep you’ll never get out.”

  “Then I’ll take bankruptcy. All the best people do it. Some do it repeatedly, and the world still supports them. No one cares anymore.”

  “Conrad Sweeney cares. He’s not the kind of creditor you default on. He’s the kind who sends thugs to beat the hell out of you—or kill you—when you don't pay up. I think the only reason you’re still standing is that he knew your father had money. But he wouldn’t wait forever. I think he sent his assistant Prudence to my office to learn more about the case—and how it might affect your ability to pay him back. What was it, some failed tech project? Garrett found a patent application online. Something about quantum computing.”

  Slowly, as if he were measuring each word, Phil spoke. “Sweeney and I were going to take it to the next level. He loaned me the money. I was supposed to create the product. Google has the edge on quantum computing. We were going to give the world bio-quantum. Computers that not only learn—but live. I’m not a scientist, but my background in chemistry and medicine gave me the authority to manage the project. But research on that level is astronomically expensive. So we partnered. It all started out fine—”