Perfect Game

by Leslie Dana Kirby

  “I’ve dreamed of a World Series ring since I was playing T-ball.” He paused. “It’s been a strange year. One of the worst and one of the best all at the same time.”

  Lauren briefly allowed herself to imagine a future with Jake. “I know what you mean.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  (Saturday, October 8–Thursday, October 13)

  The Diamondbacks did indeed get past the Braves over the course of the next week, taking four of six games. Lauren hadn’t been able to attend any of them.

  Jake called after the final win. “Next year, you’ll be watching every single home game from the VIP suite.” Lauren was heartened by his projections for a future together.

  “I wish I could see you now. I’ve missed you.” She allowed herself to say the words and then held her breath.

  “I know. I miss you, too. Now that I have some time off before the Series starts, we’ll find a way to get together when I get back from Atlanta. I promise.”

  But before he could keep that promise, the day Lauren had been dreading arrived.

  She was at work, rushing to the supply room for a suture kit when she spotted Detective Wallace heading her direction. He was accompanied by the medical chief of staff and the hospital attorney. Their mood looked grim. Detective Wallace was walking with a sense of purpose. Lauren felt frozen to the spot, as she did in so many of her recent nightmares.

  “Dr. Rose,” Chief Cantor greeted Lauren. “This detective needs to have a word with you.”

  “Right now? I’m right in the middle of my shift.”

  “I’m afraid so. I’ll make sure your patients are covered. We’ve arranged for you to use the first floor conference room. Our attorney, Mr. Lawrence, will accompany you.”

  Mr. Lawrence led the way. As she followed him, Lauren felt as if she was walking to her own execution. The four of them filed into a room with a large conference table surrounded by leather-bound chairs.

  “Have a seat, Miss Rose,” Wallace said.

  Lauren broke into a cold sweat. She had a strong urge to bolt, vividly imagining her flight path out the ER doors. Instead, she sat down. Her hands started to shake and she attempted to control them by clasping them tightly together in her lap. Mr. Lawrence sat next to her. Detective Wallace and Chief Cantor took chairs on the opposite side of the table.

  Wallace cleared his throat. “I’m here to advise you that we have issued an arrest warrant for the murder of your sister.”

  Lauren’s mouth was painfully parched. Was he going to handcuff her and parade her out in front of all her coworkers? Would he take her out the front door where news reporters nearly always loitered these days or would they be kind enough to use the employee exit in the back? Lauren glanced at Chief Cantor. He was a giant in the field of trauma surgery and she has been so eager to impress him when she first started her internship. I’m sure this is making quite an impression upon him all right.

  “Okay,” she forced out.

  “Detective Boyd has just taken Jake Wakefield into custody at Sky Harbor Airport upon his return from Atlanta.”

  “What?”

  “Mr. Wakefield has been our primary suspect for quite some time, but we only recently compiled enough evidence to secure a warrant for his arrest.”

  The room began to spin around her. “Jake? Jake didn’t kill Liz.”

  “You should wait until you hear the evidence before you make up your mind about that.”

  “I doubt you have any evidence that could make me believe he killed her.”

  “We’ll see. Look, I understand that you have gotten…” he cleared his throat, “…close to Mr. Wakefield. We have taken a lot of negative press for leaks in this case so I’m not at liberty to discuss the evidence with you at this time.” He looked at her meaningfully and Lauren knew he was referring to Dennis’ press releases. “However, I have been authorized to advise you that the source of the leak has been identified.”

  “And?” she asked.

  “The negative information released about you came directly from Jake Wakefield.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  (April 27, the following year)

  Lauren slid into the hard wooden bench seat in the courtroom gallery and settled in to wait for the hearing to start.

  The brunette seated at the Prosecution table turned to greet her.

  “Thanks for coming,” the woman said in a strong Southern twang. Candace Keene was a seasoned prosecutor with a flawless conviction record. She had joined the Maricopa County Attorney’s Office straight out of law school sixteen years earlier because she had a passion for “putting scumbags in the slammer.” She was tall and slender, with chocolate-brown hair and caramel-colored eyes. Nicknamed Sugarless Candy for her sharp-tongued courtroom demeanor, she looked like a debutante and swore like a sailor.

  “Of course,” Lauren responded, meaning it this time.

  When Lauren had attended Jake’s arraignment in October, she had still been certain of his innocence. She had taken a seat behind the Defense table and anxiously awaited his arrival. Jake had been escorted into court at the last moment by a sheriff’s deputy and managed to evade the media circus in the room by responding only to the judge. After entering a plea of “absolutely not guilty,” his bond had been set at five million dollars. He had then been whisked away into the recesses of the court building while his parents made arrangements to post his bond.

  As soon as Jake had been released on bail, Lauren had tried to reach him by phone. And learned his cell phone had been disconnected. She understood that he was taking appropriate measures to avoid the media onslaught and knew he would make contact with her as soon as he could.

  Except he never did.

  The second court appearance had been November fifteenth. On that date, Lauren had been sure that Jake would clear things up with her. Instead, he had deliberately avoided making eye contact with her, shielded on either side by his parents, both furiously protesting his innocence. Lauren’s anticipation about court on that date lasted longer than the hearing itself, which was just long enough for the judge to grant the Defense’s request for a continuance. Subsequent court appearances in January and March had been similarly uneventful. Lauren approached today’s court date with low expectations.

  The courtroom erupted in an excited murmur behind her and Lauren knew, without looking, that Jake had arrived. Her heart tugged heavily when she finally did look. His dark suit flattered his athletic build and he flashed his famous smile to the reporters seated in the gallery. He looked relaxed as he took his seat at the Defense table, his World Series ring prominent on his right hand.

  The judge had refused to grant Jake’s request to leave the state for away games, but he had been a full participant in home games. He even led his team to victory in game four of the World Series by pitching an impressive no-hitter. Despite the circumstances, Lauren had watched the Series games, habitually making mental notes of plays to discuss with Jake before remembering she would not be rehashing the game with him afterwards. The Diamondbacks had won a tightly contested seventh game to secure the championship. Shortly thereafter, Jake had signed a new contract with the Diamondbacks. The dollar amounts were substantial, but the new contract included a bailout clause, effectively firing Jake without severance in the event of a conviction.

  Jake was joined at the Defense table by his lawyers. Following his arrest, Jake had hired John Fisher, a prominent defense attorney who had defended several celebrities and professional athletes over the years. This would, by all accounts, be the biggest case of Fisher’s career.

  When it had become evident that Jake would not be able to dodge the charges, he had also hired Richard Pratt. While Fisher was best known as a publicity spinmeister, Pratt was nationally respected for his litigation skills.

  Pratt had a reputation as a bulldog in the courtroom and resembled one as well—shor
t, balding, and heavyset, with a harsh New York accent. Fisher, on the other hand, looked distinguished with his thick wavy hair silvering at the temples and tall trim build. He wore exquisite Armani suits, Italian shoes, and ties that cost more than Lauren’s monthly salary. Always camera-ready, Fisher served as the public face of the Defense’s campaign.

  While Jake was the one charged by the county, Lauren continued to be tried in the press. Candace opined that the Defense was responsible for the ongoing public assassinations on Lauren’s character. “We’ve got so much evidence against that bastard, he’s got no other choice but to point the finger elsewhere. But it doesn’t matter, we’ve still got that little prick by the short hairs.”

  Inexplicably, Lauren still missed Jake. For several weeks following his arrest, she had stubbornly defended his innocence. The ongoing efforts of Wallace and Boyd to convince her of Jake’s guilt proved ineffective for she had still been leery of the detectives themselves. In the end, the fact that Jake never attempted to contact Lauren after his release on bond forced her to reach the only logical explanation; he had never really cared about her. Even so, she still missed the person she had believed him to be.

  Now, the bailiff called the courtroom to order. “Hear ye, hear ye, court is now in session. The honorable Judge Robles presiding.”

  Robles was a no-nonsense, experienced judge with a large build, balding pate, and sterling reputation. “Court is called to order in the case of People versus Wakefield.”

  Fisher stood up. “The Defense is prepared to proceed to trial.”

  Candace, who had been making careful notes on her yellow legal pad, looked up with surprise. Lauren glanced at Candace’s notes: bananas, Lucky Charms, Jack Daniels. She had clearly been expecting the Defense to request another postponement.

  Candace leapt to her feet. “Your Honor, the People request a continuance until July first in order to allow the victim’s sister, Dr. Lauren Rose, to attend the trial. Dr. Rose is completing a demanding medical internship, which won’t wrap up until June thirtieth.

  Richard Pratt was quick to his feet. “The Defense objects. Mr. Wakefield’s life has been completely uprooted by these unfounded charges and he is eager to exonerate himself. The People are attempting to deny our client his constitutional right to a speedy trial.”

  Candace snorted. “That’s ludicrous. I’m sure it has not escaped Your Honor’s notice that it is the Defense that has delayed this case over the past six months. The People are merely asking for another sixty-four days in order to allow the victim’s sister to attend the trial.”

  Pratt responded. “Your Honor, our client wishes to exercise his right to a speedy trial. Additionally, we object to the attendance of Lauren Rose and ask to have her permanently excused from the courtroom.”

  “On what grounds?” Candace demanded.

  “She is a witness in this case.”

  “We are prepared to call Dr. Rose as our first witness and would ask that she be allowed to attend the remainder of the trial following her sworn testimony.”

  Pratt strutted a few feet closer to the bench. “Your Honor, we are not referring to Miss Rose’s testimony for the People. We intend to call her as a witness for the Defense. She is a material witness in support of our case.”

  Candace laughed out loud. “She’s not even on your witness list.”

  “We’ve just added her today.”

  “This is a classic example of the Defense’s shenanigans. This is simply manipulation of legal procedure for the sole purpose of denying Dr. Rose her opportunity to put a human face on this case. Surviving family members have a right to attend.”

  “The victim is also survived by her grandmother,” Pratt interjected.

  “Who is eighty-six years old with serious health issues,” Candace snapped.

  Judge Robles cleared his throat pointedly before rendering his ruling. “Dr. Rose shall be the first witness for the People, and the Defense will have ample opportunity to cross-examine her. She may then attend the trial as a representative of the family. The Defense may recall her as a Defense witness if they so choose. However, this trial shall not be delayed further to accommodate witness work schedules. I am prepared to set a trial date. Let me check my docket.” The judge flipped several pages in a calendar book in front of him. “As it turns out, I cannot schedule a case of this magnitude until after the Fourth of July holiday. We shall return for jury selection on July fifth.”

  Candace smiled. She had lost the battle, but won the war.

  Before adjourning, Judge Robles cautioned, “Counsel on both sides are reminded that the suppression order is still in place. Any public statements will result in immediate consequences for contempt.”

  As Jake filed out of the courtroom, he laughed loudly at something Fisher was saying.

  Candace turned to whisper to Lauren. “He may be the best butt in baseball now, but pretty soon he’s going to have the best butt in the state pen.”

  Chapter Thirty

  (Wednesday, June 28)

  Candace had asked the detectives to dig up information she could use to dispute Jake’s public image as a golden boy with a fairy tale marriage. Fortunately, Jake made that fairly easy to do. Behind the scenes, Jake had been leading a playboy lifestyle with plenty of booze, women, and gambling. Unfortunately, all the detectives could produce were secondhand accounts of Jake’s bad behavior; finding admissible evidence was proving much more difficult. Jake’s teammates all stuck to the party line that Jake was a good friend and a hell of a ball player. Whether this was out of a sense of loyalty to Jake or to protect their own indiscretions was unclear, but the detectives had been unable to dislodge any dirty little secrets from the tight band of baseball brothers.

  Jake’s financial situation had been far more precarious than anybody had suspected. Eager to establish his reputation as a high roller, he had been living well beyond his means. He did command an impressive salary, but managed to spend significantly more than he made. Deeply in debt, Jake was upside down on his house and maxed-out on several high-limit credit cards. Financial gain was a reasonable motive for the murder, given that Liz’s valuable jewelry collection had been stolen and Jake had believed he was the beneficiary of Liz’s sizable life insurance policy. Yet again, these facts were difficult to substantiate with objective evidence. Following Jake’s arrest, his debts disappeared, expediently erased by the old money coffers of Buffy and Jacob Wakefield, Sr.

  As press coverage of the case escalated to a feverish pitch, the detectives caught a break. A stripper from San Francisco named Amber Sanders sold information to a tabloid about a supposed one-night tryst with Jake. Under normal circumstances, the story wouldn’t even have warranted publication, but because of the public’s rabid obsession with the Wakefield murder case, Insider magazine paid Sanders fifteen thousand dollars for her story. With little real optimism that it would be productive, the detectives flew to California to interview Sanders.

  Lauren happened to be consulting with Candace at the Prosecutor’s office when Wallace and Boyd returned from the trip, looking discouraged.

  “Well…” Candace asked without preamble, “…did she really do the nasty with our guy?”

  “Hard to say,” Wallace hedged. “She did provide a detailed account of their encounter. Says Jake and some of the other players rolled into her club last year on the evening of May twenty-eighth. That is the correct date of the Diamondbacks’ final game against the Giants in that match-up. They dropped a bunch of money on drinks and lap dances. She claims Jake took a special interest in her and, after shoving several hundred dollars down her G-string, invited her back to his hotel room.”

  “Was it the right hotel?”

  “It was. But the thing is, we researched it, and we were easily able to find the dates and hotel information with an Internet search.”

  “And the Defense will be quick to point that out,�
�� Candace sighed. “So that’s it? We can’t prove that Jake slept with her.”

  “She did provide one detail that might be useful,” Wallace added, shooting a surreptitious glance in Lauren’s direction.

  “Spit it out.”

  “We were wrapping up and it wasn’t looking promising, but then Boyd asked her if there was anything else that she could add that might substantiate her story.”

  “And?”

  Boyd responded, “She said she was stoked about landing Jake out of all the players, but she ended up being disappointed.”

  “Because?” Candace prodded.

  Boyd’s face flushed pink. “Because she claims, and I quote, that Jake’s hung like a newborn baby.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  (July–August)

  As it turned out, Candace needn’t have worried about postponing the trial start date to allow Lauren to attend. Jury selection stretched on for nearly two months as both sides attempted to out-maneuver one another. The original jury pool consisted of over two hundred people, all of whom were given lengthy jury questionnaires compiled by jury consultants from both sides. Only forty-nine jurors were left after Judge Robles excused those who admitted to following the Wakefield case in the news.

  In private, Candace fumed about the inadequacies of the remaining jurors. “They have to be lying about not being familiar with this case. You can’t fall out of bed in the morning without hearing something about it. And if they are telling the truth, they must be complete idiots who never read, watch the news, or listen to the radio. I mean, who the hell are these imbeciles?” While questioning these same potential jurors, Candace was the epitome of Southern charm.

  Lauren was not allowed to attend the voir dire process; the courtroom was closed to everybody but the defendant and the lawyers. However, she sometimes met with Candace and the prosecutorial jury consultant. Dr. Joseph Fritz was an older psychologist with coke-bottle glasses, a gray goatee, and an impressive résumé including multiple publications on the topic of jury interactions.