Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3

by Rachel Sinclair

  That was the role that I had taken. It was the role that Eli had before, but I became, over the years, more dominant and powerful than Eli ever was. Eli used to be the keeper, the one who managed us. He was the one who allowed me to come out. If Eli didn’t allow it, then I couldn’t come out at all. In fact, when we were living at Steven’s house, I was only allowed to come out when Steven was fucking Jack. Other than that, it was all Eli.

  But Jack got rid of us for all those years. All those years, when he was strong, because of Mary, we were dormant. Dormant, but never gone. Then Mary died, and I was the one who was in control. I became the one who got to tell the others what to do. And I did. I told Eli that he wasn’t going to come out anymore. I didn’t want Jack to get into trouble. I knew that Eli would get him into trouble, too, because Eli was nothing but trouble. He dealt drugs, he fucked a lot of women, he did way too many drugs himself. He gambled, too. He came out a few times after Mary’s accident, but I saw what he was doing, and I didn’t like it. I made him go back and to stay back. I wasn’t going to have that bullshit.

  I ran a tight ship, and Eli wasn’t a part of that. He still got out from time to time, but I got control of him as soon as possible and reined him back in.

  Sam wasn’t a part of my tight ship, either. I didn’t even know about Sam until he came out a few times, and then, when I found out about him, he was toast. I tried to make sure that he could never come out, at all. The last thing that I needed was an alter who was violent.

  Like Eli, though, he got out from time to time. I couldn’t stop him from coming out twice since the accident. I got him reined in, though, immediately as well.

  “Are you sure, Mick, that you can pass this psychological exam?” Harper asked me. “Remember, you have to pretend that you’re Jack. You can’t slip up and call yourself Mick. And remember the story that you need to tell Dr. Jansing. You need to tell Dr. Jansing that the reason why you blacked out in that church was because you had a fainting spell. You had low blood sugar, really low blood sugar. That having low blood sugar was always a problem for you. Can you do that, Mick? Can you convince him that you passed out at the rectory because of a physical issue, not a mental one?”

  Harper was anxious. She wanted to make sure that we all went to trial. She wanted to make sure that Dr. Jansing didn’t find that we were loony tunes. She had explained to me, after I came out, that if Dr. Jansing found that we weren’t fit for trial, that we would have to go into a nuthouse until the judge found that we were fit for trial. And she also explained that if Dr. Jansing found that we were insane at the time of the murder, that the judge might order her to ask for a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity, and that we would be locked up indefinitely in a different nut house.

  Harper wanted to try this case. That was important to her. She felt that if she had the chance to try it, that we could possibly get off completely. She was working on trying to find out if somebody else possibly could have killed that priest and framed us. As she put it, she was looking for somebody who possibly knew that Jack was having mental problems, and knew that he would be the perfect person to be in that rectory at the time that the other person, whoever that might be, actually murdered Father Kennedy.

  I didn’t know. I didn’t know if any of us killed Father Kennedy. I didn’t know if Eli did it, or Sam. I was in the dark about all of that, for whatever reason. I didn’t like not knowing what the others were up to. I didn’t like not knowing things. For all I know, Jack himself could have been the one who was at that rectory. If that was the case – if it was Jack, and not Eli or Sam - then I wouldn’t have known what had happened. I never knew what Jack was up to. I only was able to keep tabs on Eli and Sam.

  “I will, doll, I will. I promise you. I’ll tell Dr. Headshrinker that I passed out from low blood sugar. I hope that you know what you’re doing, though. I hope that you know.”

  “I do know. If the doctor knows the truth, then that trial will never go through. It will never go through, and Jack and you and everyone will be locked up, possibly for the rest of your natural lives. I don’t want that to happen. I think that I can prove that Jack is factually innocent, but I need to have that chance.”

  “Well, honey, I certainly don’t want to be locked up in a nuthouse for the rest of my life, so I’m gonna do the best I can to convince Dr. Headshrinker that Jack is not insane in the membrane.”

  We got to the doctor’s office, the doctor that Harper had arranged for us to see.

  We went into the suite, and there he was. As cute as a button, really. He didn’t look very old at all. Maybe 35. Or maybe he just looked younger than he was. I never could really tell. What I did know was that he was cute. Sandy blonde hair, big dimples, big blue eyes. I could feel myself batting my eyelashes, but I had to stop that. I had to act like Jack, and Jack didn’t have a queer bone in his fucking body.

  “Dr. Jansing,” Harper was saying. “This is my Uncle Jack. Uncle Jack, this is Dr. Jansing. He’s going to be the person who is going to be examining you for the court.”

  I had to remember to act perfectly straight. That would mean trying to speak like Jack, sit like Jack, have the same kind of speech cadence as Jack. That wouldn’t be too hard to do. This guy didn’t know Jack from Adam, so I assumed that he probably wouldn’t know the difference between me and Jack.

  Harper had explained to me that she didn’t want Jack’s therapist from back in the day to be the one who examined us. That was all a part of her plan to make sure that we weren’t found incompetent. That other therapist would probably make a report to the court that we were cray-cray. This therapist might not, if I could only fool him for a half hour.

  “Hello, Jack,” Dr. Jansing said. Dr. Cutie, I thought to myself. “Come on into my office.”

  I followed him in, watching his slight wiggle while he walked.

  I sat down on the couch, while he took a seat behind his enormous desk. “Jack,” he said. “Is it okay if I address you as Jack?”

  “Of course,” I said. I was afraid that I was going to come off as wooden, because I was trying so hard not to act like the queen that I was. Jack is masculine. Jack is a man. Jack isn’t queer. You have to remember that.

  “Jack,” he said. “Do you understand why you’re here?”

  “Yes. I’m here because the judge in this murder case, the murder of that poor priest, Father Kennedy, ordered that I be here.”

  He nodded his head. “Yes. That is true. Do you know why, however, that judge ordered that you be here?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “And what is that you understand about that? Why did that judge, Judge McFarland, order that you see me today?”

  “Because of how that murder happened. You see, I blacked out when I got into that rectory. I blacked out because I didn’t eat that day. I have a terrible problem with blood sugar. And I was feeling a bit light-headed before I got there, but I just ignored it. I ignored my need to have food, and, well, I got in there and I seemed to have passed out.”

  He cocked his head. I was afraid that he was going to see right through my excuse. “I see. Did you see anything before you blacked out? Did you see anybody in there before you blacked out?”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. The timing on when I blacked out was going to be important in this. Did I black out after the priest was killed or before? From what I understood, Father Kennedy had been dead in this rectory for a full two hours before Jack was found there with the dead Father Kennedy. I didn’t even know who was present when that body was found, either. It wasn’t me. I don’t think it was Eli. It might have been Sam. Sam was a wily one.

  “I don’t remember,” I finally said.

  “I see.” He nodded his head. “Why did you tell the police that you had no idea how you got there, and that you didn’t remember going into that rectory at all?”

  “Well, sometimes I get memory loss when I black out like that.” I looked down at my shoes, knowing that I was going to have to change course
on this, if I didn’t want to blow the psychological examination. “Oh, okay, I’ll tell you the truth. I got stinking drunk that day. I didn’t have low blood-sugar at all. I got really drunk, and I don’t know what happened. I don’t remember any of it. I don’t remember anything about going to the rectory at all. That’s why I told the police that I didn’t know how I got there.”

  “I see. And why did you lie to me just now?”

  “I’m embarrassed about my drinking problem. But I figured that I might as well come clean.”

  He made some notes, and I felt slightly panicky. I hoped that he wasn’t going to write that I was loony tunes. That was the last thing that I wanted.

  “Jack,” he said. “Do you know what day it is?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t know the date. I never know that.”

  “Do you know what day of the week it is?”

  “It’s Wednesday.”

  “Do you know what year it is?”

  “2017.”

  He made some more notes. “Do you understand that, if you killed somebody, that this would be a crime?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you believe that it is wrong to kill somebody?”

  “Of course.” What kinds of questions were these? Then I remembered – Harper told me that, if I were to be found not guilty by reason of insanity, I would have to not know that nature of my act and not know that it was wrong. So, assuming that I did kill Father Kennedy, if I didn’t know that I was murdering him, and I didn’t think that it was wrong, and that could be proved, then I could be found not guilty by reason of insanity. Harper didn’t want that.

  “Do you understand that you have been charged by the State of Missouri with First Degree Murder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you understand what that means?”

  “I do.”

  “What do you understand that to mean?”

  “It means that the State of Missouri believes that I committed a murder. That was because I was arrested for murder. It also means that there is possibly going to be a trial on the matter. In fact, there is probably going to be a trial on the matter. My lawyer wants to take it to trial. She doesn’t want to plead me guilty.” I was talking like a robot. I knew it. I hoped that the shrink didn’t figure that out, though.

  “Do you understand what it means when you say that your lawyer wants to take your case to trial?”

  “Yes. That means that she’s going to gather together evidence and witnesses, and the prosecutor is going to do the same. Then we’re going to go before a judge and jury and present our evidence, after the prosecutor presents her evidence, and, hopefully, the jury will return a verdict of not guilty and I’ll get to go free.”

  “Do you believe that you will be able to participate in your trial?”

  “Do you mean that I’m going to be able to tell my story on the stand, and help my attorney gather evidence and all of that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course. I can do all of that. That’s not a problem at all.”

  “Okay.” He nodded his head. “This examination is cursory and preliminary. The judge in this case might order that a more thorough examination be conducted, but, for now, it seems that you are competent to stand trial. I’m also going to make a preliminary finding that you appear to know the nature and wrongfulness of murder, in general, so I don’t see a basis for a not guilty by reason of insanity plea. But this is just preliminary, you understand. I do believe, however, that you are definitely competent to stand trial. That finding will be definitive. The other finding, about whether you met the legal definition of insanity at the time of the murder – that will have to come at a later date, if the judge orders such an exam.”

  “Thank you,” I said, standing up. “Dr. Jansing. I appreciate your time.”

  “Of course. Let me show you out.”

  At that, he opened up the door of his office, and I went into the waiting room. Harper was sitting there, looking anxious. I smiled at her, and her face relaxed. She nodded.

  “I’m ready, Harper,” I said, and then turned around and smiled at Dr. Cuty-Cute. “Thank you, Dr. Jansing,” I said.

  “You’re very welcome.”

  We left the office, and Harper linked her arm through mine. “How did it go?” she asked me after we got on the elevator.

  “Oh, it was awful. Just awful. He made me go through all these tests. I didn’t know what end was up. Why didn’t you tell me that he was going to show me a porno in there and ask me if it got me hot?”

  She furrowed her brow at me and I laughed. Then she looked at me for a few seconds more and she laughed as well. “You got me, there, Uncle Jack,” she said. She called me “Jack,” just in case there was somebody around to hear her. She told me beforehand why this was important. “Really, how was it?”

  “It was really a pretty lame exam. He wanted to know if I knew that murder was wrong.” I rolled my eyes. “As if I was going say ‘no, I didn’t know that killing somebody in cold blood was wrong.’ Really, Harper, where do they find these shady doctors?”

  We got into her car, and she shut the doors and put the windows up. We needed to speak freely, without any prying eyes and ears around.

  “He’s not a shady doctor. He’s simply asking you questions to determine if you were legally insane at the time of the murder. What else did he ask you?”

  “He asked me what day it was, if I knew why I was there talking to him, if I was aware that I was being charged with murder, if I could participate in the trial. Things like that.”

  “Well, again, he was just trying to determine if you’re competent to stand trial.”

  “I am. I don’t know if Jack is, though. I don’t think that he is. I mean, he can help you out with the trial and all, and he can be coherent enough to get through it, but I don’t think that he will be able to withstand a trial. He better not come back out, at least not until all this is through. Sometimes he has a will, though, Harper. He has a will, and he comes back out, whether I want him to or not. The little bastard.”

  “Why do you call him a little bastard? It is his life, you know. You’ve just kind of hijacked it.”

  “Yes, I did. I did because he can’t handle reality right now. He hasn’t been able to handle reality since Mary died. Do you know that he almost killed himself? He did. Bastard went into the bathroom, and I knew what he was thinking. He had this huge razor and he had it on his wrists, and if I didn’t come out right at that moment, we all would have been pushing up daisies. Little girl, I know you think that I hijacked him, but, trust me on this – I didn’t hijack him. I saved him. Don’t ever forget that, either. I saved him.”

  Harper shook her head. “Oh, Mick, I didn’t know that.”

  “He did. He almost killed himself.” I hesitated. “Harper, I’m very sorry that we have to be around. I’m sorry that Jack had to go through what he had to go through when he was a little boy. You have to know, though, that there’s a part of him that knows everything. There’s a part of him that knows about the burnings, the beatings, the torture that Steven put him through. There’s a part of him that knows about the fucking Steven did to him. There’s a part of him that knows that he helped Steven get rid of those bodies and that he helped find young boys and girls for Steven. Jack, deep down, knows all of this. That’s why I have to be out, Harper. I still have to save Jack from all that knowledge. Mary was the one who helped him before. She’s gone, now, Harper, and, right now, I’m the only one who can protect him from himself.”

  Harper nodded her head. “I know, Mick. I know. I appreciate what you have done for him. I really do.” She gave me a quick hug and started the car. “Now, let’s get you to mom’s house.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yes, your mother. Yay! I can’t wait to stay with her. By the way, where is your father?”

  “I don’t know. He works a lot.” She looked sad when she said that, and I wondered why. “Let’s go.”

  We headed to Claire’s house, whe
re I knew I would be staying.

  I was going to try to keep Jack away. I hoped that I could.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Harper

  “Mom,” I said, when I brought Mick back to the house. “I need to speak with you.”

  “Oh?” she said as she greeted us both at the door. “Hello, Harper, hello, Mick,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said. “Mick, I’m so sorry, but I need to speak with my mom alone.”

  Mick rolled his eyes. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Then he lowered his voice. “Don’t kill each other. I know that you want to, but try to refrain until I’m out of the house. K?”

  “Sure.” I looked at mom. I suddenly knew that I had to have a few answers.

  Mick went to his room and mom played with her necklace, not looking at me.

  “Where is dad?” I asked. “He hasn’t been here the last few times that I’ve visited. And Mick asked me in the car where he was. That made me realize that he must not be around, period, because Mick has been staying here and he would know, of all people, if dad were around. So, where is he?”

  My mom sighed. “He’s not around, Harper. He left.” She looked nervous. “Harper, there’s something that you should know. Something that your father, I guess, hasn’t wanted to tell you. And I swear, I just found this out myself.”

  “What? What’s the big secret?”

  She sighed again. “Your father is gay.”

  I sat down on the couch. “Stop. Stop, mom. I don’t know if you’re playing a joke, but it’s not funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.” She bit her lower lip. “I swear, Harper, I had no idea. No clue. I never thought that your father liked men. I never knew that. But he came out to me about two months ago, and he sat me down, and told me that he met somebody.”