The Perfect Game

by Leslie Dana Kirby

  “Boyd’s my secret weapon with female witnesses,” Candace confided to Lauren as they convened back in court on Tuesday morning. “He charms them into a cooperative state of mind.”

  Ms. Davis testified that Liz’s check to Bourk had cleared the Wakefields’ joint checking account on Friday, July twenty-second. Coincidentally, Mr. Bourk used the same bank as the Wakefields. Liz couldn’t have known the check would post so quickly.

  Candace asked a follow-up question, “Ms. Davis, can you tell us if and when the account was checked online between the dates of July twenty-second and July twenty-third?

  “Yes, it was checked one time on those dates. Somebody pulled the account balance on July twenty-third at 6:33 pm and then they clicked on check #1273 to view the details.”

  “So, the person who accessed the online system on July twenty-third would have seen check #1273 was a twenty-five thousand-dollar check payable to Ronald Bourk.”

  “Yes.”

  Pratt did a solid job of muddying the water. “It could have been Mrs. Elizabeth Wakefield who opened the online system of July twenty-third, couldn’t it?”

  “Yes, it could have been anybody who had the account number and password,” Ms. Davis agreed.

  Ms. Davis was the last of the motive witnesses, those called to demonstrate for the jury that the Wakefield marriage was far from the perfect union.

  Having established motive, Candace moved on to her time line witnesses. William Dallas was tall and thin with graying hair. Despite the one-hundred-plus degree temperatures outside, he wore a tennis sweater and slacks to court. A neighbor of Jake’s, Mr. Dallas testified he saw Jake’s red convertible hurriedly exiting the community gates at about seven-fifteen on the evening of July twenty-third. This was important because Jake had told police he left for the airport at six-thirty and the time of death was estimated between seven and eleven p.m.

  Under Pratt’s careful cross-examination, Mr. Dallas was forced to admit he couldn’t be one hundred percent certain the car he had seen was Jake’s car. On re-direct, Candace elicited confirmation that the car was the same make, model, and color.

  “You’d have to be an idiot to believe another convertible red Porsche Spyder just happened to be in the neighborhood that night,” Candace muttered as they were leaving court that evening.

  Boyd was driving Lauren home when she received a phone call from an unfamiliar number.

  “I’ll come right away,” she said in a trembling voice.

  Boyd expressed concern the moment she hung up. “Everything okay?”

  “No. That was the nurse at Desert Pointe. My grandmother is being sent to the hospital for chest pain.” Her eyes welled up.

  “Which hospital?”

  “Scottsdale Shea.”

  “I can take you there now.”

  “No, that’s too much to ask. Just take me home, I can drive myself out there.”

  “That makes no sense. Taking you home first is going to cost you too much time in this traffic.”

  Lauren reassured herself that Boyd lived in Scottsdale himself. He could drop her off at the hospital on his way home, reducing his own commute time. Having eased her own mind about Boyd, she resumed worrying about Rose-ma.

  Boyd navigated quiet side streets in order to make better time. “Is she in the emergency room?”

  “She must be. They were transporting her by ambulance.”

  He pulled into the circular drive of the ER. Lauren flung the car door open before the car had even reached a complete stop.

  Lauren paused outside the open car door. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you in the morning.” She shut the door and rushed into the ER lobby. She identified herself to the receptionist, who led her back to one of the trauma bays.

  Her grandmother looked tiny, wrapped up in soft white blankets on the hospital bed. She was hooked up to a pulse oximeter, cardiac monitor, and automated blood pressure cuff. She smiled weakly when Lauren entered. “Here’s my favorite doctor. How are you, dear?”

  “I’m fine, Rose-ma. More importantly, how are you?”

  “Oh, nothing worth reporting. Just a little discomfort in my chest and the Desert Pointe staff insisted upon sending me here. By ambulance no less! I’m feeling much better now. It was probably just heartburn.”

  “Better safe than sorry, Rose-ma. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Enough about me. How are you? I hope you haven’t been working too hard. I always worried about the way you girls went without sleep, so distracted by homework and sports and boys. Do you remember the time Liz dreamed her alarm went off in the middle of the night and she got up, showered, and got herself ready for school? I found her eating breakfast at two o’clock in the morning!”

  Lauren remembered. “Her dream was so convincing she argued with you about the right time for fifteen minutes before she noticed it was still dark outside. The hubbub woke me up and we all had some o.j. before going back to bed.”

  They were laughing at the memory when the receptionist returned. “Excuse me for interrupting, but there’s a gentleman asking for you.” Boyd was lurking in the hallway beyond the curtain.

  “Detective Boyd, come on in. Do you remember my grandmother?”

  “Of course I do,” Boyd said as he stepped into the room. He briefly took Rose-ma’s small hand in his large one. “It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Rose. It’s good to see you looking so well. You gave Lauren quite a scare.”

  “Well, Lauren scares easily.”

  Blood warmed Lauren’s cheeks as Rose-ma and Boyd shared a laugh at her expense.

  Boyd turned to Lauren. “I don’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to let you know I was here. I’ll wait in the waiting room until you’re ready to go and then give you a ride back to your place.”

  “Thank you, but that’s unnecessary. You should head home. I can catch a cab…” Lauren was interrupted by the clanging alarms of her grandmother’s cardiac monitor.

  Instinctively, Lauren flew into action. She hit the code button located on a nearby wall and started CPR. “Tell a staff member I need a crash cart stat,” Lauren directed to Boyd. She continued chest compressions as the room quickly became a flurry of activity around her. An ER doctor began calling out orders. He was preparing to shock her grandmother’s chest with the defibrillator. Lauren stopped chest compressions as he shouted, “Clear!”

  The physician was still tending to Rose-ma. “Get the family members out of here.” Lauren and Boyd were hustled unceremoniously back to the lobby, Lauren listening intently for the distinctive monitor sounds that would indicate Rose-ma’s heart had resumed beating. She didn’t hear them.

  Her muscles were trembling from the rush of adrenaline and she paced the waiting room. Boyd stood nearby, respectfully allowing her time to herself.

  Moments felt like hours, but finally a nurse emerged from the treatment area. She invited Lauren into a private triage room. Boyd came along without waiting for an invitation and squeezed Lauren’s hand supportively as they took seats.

  “The doctors were able to restart your grandmother’s heart. They’ve taken her into emergency surgery where they’ll work to insert a stent to restore the flow of blood to her heart. The doctors are doing all they can, but the cardiac enzymes were extremely elevated, indicating a significant cardiac event. At her age, the anesthesia alone can be a considerable risk. You should prepare for the possibility she may not survive the surgery. I recommend you ask the rest of the family to meet you here. The surgery will take at least an hour. The surgeon will come out to talk to you when it’s over.”

  Lauren felt numb as she and Boyd returned to the waiting room. She pulled out her cell phone, but was harshly reminded she had no family left to call. Instead, she called Stone at work to let him know she wouldn’t be in for her shift that evening. “You should get going, Detective Boyd. This is going to take awh
ile. I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.” She found herself wondering about his home life, a topic she knew very little about.

  “You can stop trying to get rid of me. I’m not going anywhere until we know your grandmother is all right. But you can do something for me.”

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “Will you please stop calling me Detective Boyd? I feel as old as Wallace when you do that. You can call me Ryan.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Do you want to get some dinner?”

  Lauren shook her head. “There’s no way I could eat right now.”

  “Why don’t we go down to the hospital chapel?”

  Lauren exhaled audibly. “I don’t really trust God anymore. He’s let me down so many times already.”

  Lauren saw no judgment on Ryan’s face, only compassion. “Then come with me and I’ll pray enough for both of us.” He led her down a series of hallways until they reached the chapel, which was devoid of other visitors. It was a small room with wooden pews filling the majority of the space. The faux stained glass windows were illuminated by backlit light bulbs, no matter the time of day.

  Boyd crossed himself as they entered and Lauren followed suit, realizing he was Catholic himself. Somehow, this revelation comforted her. He steered her to the front pew, both of them kneeling in the aisle before taking their seats. Ryan bowed his head and shut his eyes. Was Lauren willing to confide in God? She decided to try.

  Heavenly Father, I beg you, please don’t take Rose-ma from me right now. I know I’ll have to let her go at some point, but not yet, not right now. Without her, I will have nothing. I would be lost. I know I haven’t been the most faithful of servants. I’m trying to renew my trust in you. I know I can’t make my faith contingent upon you answering this prayer, but please don’t take her from me. I may not deserve your grace, but Rose-ma does. She’s the most faithful person I know.

  Tears flowed freely down Lauren’s face as she imagined a world without Rose-ma. Ryan wrapped his arms around her and let her cry until she could cry no more. Afterwards, they returned to the waiting room to await news from the surgeon. Ryan’s cell phone rang several times. Most times, he hit the ignore button and returned the phone to his pocket. But on one occasion, he murmured to Lauren, “Sorry, I have to take this.” He retreated to the corner of the room to take the call in relative privacy. Lauren could not resist the urge to eavesdrop, but he spoke in subdued tones and she couldn’t make out much from his end of the conversation.

  Soon he returned to the seat next to her. “Sorry about that. It was work.”

  “If they need you, you should go.”

  “I’m not leaving here until the doctor comes out to talk to you. Anyway, it was nothing urgent. They always call me when they have trouble with the computer system. We have a whole IT team, but I’m the only one that seems to know how our system actually operates.”

  “You are truly a jack of all trades—investigator, chauffeur, spiritual advisor, computer technician.”

  He smiled. “Master of none.”

  They sat in impatient silence. The cardiac surgeon finally emerged and greeted both of them as if he already knew them. This happened to Lauren frequently these days and probably to Ryan as well. He introduced himself as Dr. Randall and invited them back to a private consultation room. Lauren feared the worst.

  “The good news is your grandmother survived the surgery. We were able to insert the stent and re-establish blood flow to the posterior descending artery. The bad news is it took us quite some time to revive her. We aren’t certain of the extent of oxygen deprivation to her brain. We won’t know about the impact upon her cognitive functioning until she wakes up.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Yes, but remember she’s still recovering. We won’t know for sure what we’re dealing with until the anesthesia has fully dissipated.”

  Lauren turned to Ryan. “Will you come with me?”

  “Of course.”

  Rose-ma was sleeping peacefully. Lauren squeezed her hand. “Rose-ma? Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, dear, of course I can. I had trouble with my heart, not my ears,” Rose-ma said as she slowly opened her eyes. “I’ve just seen Liz.”

  “No, Rose-ma,” Lauren said, somewhat embarrassed by Rose-ma’s confusion. “Liz isn’t here anymore, remember? You’ve had surgery, but everything went well. You need to focus on getting better now, okay? I love you.”

  “Oui, oui. Don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be fine. Liz sent a message for you. She asked me to tell you that you have always been her favoritest sister. I scolded her poor grammar, but she insisted I had to say it just like that. She said you would understand.”

  The hairs on Lauren’s arms stood up. After their parents had died, Liz had taken to cheering Lauren by saying, “Always remember, you’re my favoritest sister!” Initially, Lauren would protest, “That’s because I’m your only sister,” but eventually they reached an unspoken understanding about the true meaning behind the silly phrase. Underneath it all, they would always have each other.

  Lauren was left to wonder if her grandmother’s recovery was the result of medicine. Or something more.

  Chapter Forty

  (Wednesday, September 6–Thursday, September 7)

  Lauren felt badly when she spotted Ryan yawning in court the following morning. They had been at the hospital until well past eleven the previous night. Then Ryan had insisted upon driving her home. He must not have gotten home himself until nearly midnight. Lauren was long accustomed to keeping crazy hours, but felt guilty for dragging Ryan into her chaotic life. Rose-ma was recovering well, with no signs of additional memory loss. She would soon be discharged from the hospital to return to her apartment at Sierra Pointe.

  The next Prosecution witness, Jonathan Schope, looked like an Iowa farm boy with his freckled face and strawberry blonde buzz cut. He was a regional manager for Sprint telecommunications and Candace had called him to help establish the Prosecution’s time line.

  Liz’s phone records confirmed she was on her cell frequently, typically starting around eight in the morning and continuing until about ten most nights. But her cell phone usage came to an abrupt stop at 6:39 p.m. on the evening of Saturday, July twenty-third when Liz had sent her final text. She had been in the middle of exchanging text messages with a friend. The friend sent a text at 6:46 p.m. asking Liz if she was attending an upcoming charity event, but Liz never responded. Additionally, Liz hadn’t answered her phone after 6:39 p.m. despite several missed calls reflected on her cell phone records that evening, including one from Lauren’s cell phone at 8:23 p.m.

  Lauren reflected. She remembered leaving a hurried message that night. As she listened to the testimony, she realized Liz had likely already been killed, lying dead and bloodied as the incoming call from Lauren rang and rang.

  The medical examiner had estimated the time of death somewhere between 7 and 11 based upon stomach contents and body temperatures. But the cell phone records told a more compelling story; Liz had become lost to the rest of the world somewhere around 6:39 p.m.

  Mr. Schope testified that Jake was also a “high cell phone utilizer.” He had used his phone regularly on July twenty-third with the exception of one time frame. Between the hours of 6:28 and 7:18 p.m., he had initiated no calls or texts and had failed to answer two incoming phone calls.

  Pratt attempted to mitigate Schope’s testimony by getting him to admit all cell phone users miss calls on occasion. However, the implications were still quite damaging. Liz had been too busy dying and Jake had been too busy killing her between the hours of 6:39 p.m. and 7:18 p.m. for each to answer their phones.

  Todd White was the next Prosecution witness. He was an attractive, broad-shouldered black man who worked as a skycap at a private hangar for U.S. Airways. When Candace called for him, he sauntered to the stand, cle
arly enjoying his moment in the spotlight. After taking his oath, he testified about checking in Jake’s bags on the evening of July twenty-third. As a big Diamondbacks fan, White had recognized Jake immediately. White consulted automated records and confirmed Jake had checked in at 7:44 for his 8:15 flight that evening. Jake had autographed a photo for White before hurrying to catch his plane.

  White’s testimony supported the Prosecution’s time line. The detectives had timed the drive from the Wakefield home to the airport several times. Even when traffic was heavy, the trip took no longer than thirty-five minutes. If Jake had left home at 6:30 as he said he did, he should have checked in at the airport by 7:15 at the latest. The fact that he didn’t check in until 7:44 suggested he left at least thirty minutes later than he said he did.

  Pratt gently chipped away at White’s testimony, asking if it was uncommon for people to check in thirty minutes prior to their flight time.

  “Not at all. We tell people to check in at least an hour before their departure time, but many folks don’t check in as early as they should. Lots of folks show up late, running up to us all crazy like, worrying about missing their flights. And when folks are private passengers, like Mr. Wakefield, they can check in a little later because they get preferential security, so they aren’t so pressed for time as regular Joes.”

  Pratt smiled. Although White had been called by the Prosecution, he seemed eager to help the Defense make their points. “Mr. Wakefield signed an autograph for you?”

  “Yes, sir. We aren’t supposed to ask our customers for stuff like that, but he just gave it to me ’cause he could tell I was a fan, and I was real glad to get it. It’s worth about fifteen hundred dollars on eBay now.”

  A Jake Wakefield autograph wouldn’t have been worth more than fifty dollars a year ago. Wakefield memorabilia was now selling for extravagant prices. Jake’s supporters would argue it was because of his perfect game and World Series win, but in reality, the media exposure of the trial had strangely enhanced Jake’s celebrity status. Before the trial, Jake was famous among those that followed sports, but Jake Wakefield was now a household name.