Cam couldn’t get a read on Irina, or decipher her icy stare. But she didn’t appear flustered by the entrance. The reaction that surprised him the most came from his mother, who appeared overwhelmed. And for once, she seemed to be the one in need of a helping hand. Cam was too far away to reach out to her, but Sam offered her hand, as if she sensed it.
Despite the judge’s warnings, and gavel pounds, the buzzing of whispers filled the room like a swarm of bees. Was it him? Could it be? For those who believed it was the Jack Hammer, the resemblance was close enough to make the case. For those who didn’t believe the tale, then he’d been altered enough to provide doubt.
He stood beside his lawyer, towering over him, as the judge read the charges. Then, as if he was unable to hold back any longer, he methodically turned to each of his accusers, one by one. Cam first looked away, but then found the will to fight. He planted his feet and looked directly at the bully, just as Geoff would have done. This time his father looked away. And for the first time in his life, Cam felt without burden. He felt free. Like he could fly away if he so chose, and no decision by a jury could change that.
Chapter 87
It was a sticky July morning when Katie Barrett-Myles sat in a wooden pew, seven months pregnant, fighting back tears as her husband was eulogized. Two-year-old Cam sat beside her and she couldn’t let her son see her cry. She just couldn’t. She had to be strong for him and his unborn brother. Not just that day, but for the rest of their lives.
She recalled that day being more of a media spectacle than a funeral, which seemed to be consistent with today’s resurrection.
The courthouse was full of non-believers. And who could blame them? She had strenuously objected when she was first told by a young FBI agent named Lee Henson, a couple of years following Jack’s death—it was too insane!
But her journalistic roots won out in the end—always pulling her toward the truth. Her belief built over time, even if it often wavered. But she knew she would never truly believe it until she saw him in the flesh. For many years, she hoped that flesh would be in the form of a corpse.
And now she was just moments away from getting that pound of flesh.
As she looked around the courtroom, a very real fear occurred to her—what if he was released? The public sentiment surely wasn’t on their side. If he tried to harm her family again, nobody would believe them. All they could do was wish for an intelligent jury that would base their decision on the evidence. But as someone who once did a three-part series for GNZ on the “Dumbing of America,” she wasn’t holding her breath.
She glanced at Cam. She couldn’t get past how much he resembled his father at a similar age. And she was so proud that he wasn’t showing any fear of the big moment. It was much more than she could say for herself.
She had no regrets about never informing her children about their father, or what she’d come to presume about him. The burden of his death was preferable to the truth. And while she hated Jack for abandoning them, and held him responsible for her father’s death, not even in her worst nightmare did she think he would ever harm his own children. What kind of monster would do that?
Katie sat uncomfortably behind the prosecution table, between Jack’s first wife, Irina Kushka, and the girl Cam almost got killed, Sam O’Connell. Sam was nervously playing with a ringlet of red hair above her ear. Katie patted her on the leg and said, “It was very brave what you did.”
“I think stupid might be a more appropriate word,” she replied with a shrug.
Katie didn’t disagree, but wanted to be clear whom she held responsible for the decision that almost left Sam’s daughter motherless. “I assure you that any lack of intellectual thought was my son’s, and his alone. I apologize on his behalf—usually he makes smart decisions about all things, except the women he accompanies. It seems to be reversed in this case.”
She got a smile from the girl. After Jack’s death, she felt the burden of having to comfort a nation. Today, all she could muster was providing comfort for this one girl. It would have to do.
On her other side, Irina appeared to be holding up much better. At least that was how she read her blank stare. But Katie knew that exteriors could often lie.
She had no intention of interrupting Irina’s thoughts, but then she surprisingly spoke in her direction, “You were the one that Alexander loved, but I no longer hate you for that.”
Katie assumed that was the biggest peace offering she would receive from her Russian counterpart. It was also strange to hear her refer to Jack as Alexander. But she got the idea that Jack Myles was still the small town Russian boy named Alexander when she fell for him. Probably for the same reasons that Irina did. It was only when he turned into the Jack Hammer that he became unrecognizable. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking. She did think that he realized he was losing himself at one point, which is why he returned to Russia and tried to hit the reset button.
“You’re the one he returned to. He had many years to come back to me if he desired, and he chose not to. Sadly, in the end, the only one he had love for was himself,” Katie said diplomatically.
“Would you have taken him back?”
The question caught her off guard, and she had to think about it longer than she wished. “He killed my father, there’s no going back after that.”
Katie had asked herself similar hypothetical questions on many occasions, often during a sleepless night in a lonely hotel room, and usually after a couple of glasses of wine. She concluded that all the therapy in the world—or wine—wouldn’t change the fact that she could never get Jack out of her head, even after she’d become convinced of what he’d done. And for all her excuses about her career, or the best interests of her children, or that she just never met Mr. Right, the real reason she never re-married was because deep down she knew no man could match Jack Myles. But she also knew that no matter who walked through that courthouse door, the Jack Myles she fell in love with did die in that accident. And probably sometime before that.
Which made it a curious decision to go to the depths of her closet to find this black dress that he loved so much, to wear for the occasion. The one that highlighted her legs—Jack’s weakness. He might have been trained in psychological warfare, but she’d picked up a few tricks over the years to counter. And based on what Cam told her about the “deal” he offered him in Sedona, she thought it might still be effective. The dress still fit perfectly, a rare upside of never being still for thirty years—more effective than any gym membership.
Suddenly time sped up. Judge Rivera entered, made a couple of comments that she didn’t even hear, and then the side door swung open. It happened so fast—like a medical examiner unveiling a body in the morgue for the family to identify. And just like that, time came to a sudden halt … and then went into reverse. Katie felt like she’d been taken back to the happiest period of her life. Except that it was anything but.
At Jack’s funeral she had vowed that they’d be together again one day, but she thought it would be on some other plane of the universe, not in a stifling courtroom in Arizona. She felt like the spell had been cast again … as if no time had passed since their last day together. She remembered talking to some of the drug counselors at the rehabilitation facility Geoff was treated at, and how they talked about patients craving the drug every day for the rest of their lives, whether they choose to use or not. And that’s what she feared. But she blamed the shortness of breath and rapid heart rate on the heat. “The bastard killed my son,” she mumbled over and over like her version of the Serenity Prayer.
She felt like she was in the ocean and waves kept crashing over her, sucking her under the salt water. Sam reached out and grabbed her hand, a kind gesture, which pulled her from the rough surf. She took deep breaths and gathered herself. She then found the strength to stare right back at the ghost.
Once she passed through the initial shock, the journalist in her came out. She began to study every inch of him—the contours of his
face had changed, and obviously he’d had work done to his nose and cheekbones. But the best identifiers lay in the intangible—his tiger-like movements, the unique curvature of those lips that she could kiss for days, and the way those light blue eyes could penetrate her soul.
Jack faced the judge as he read the charges against him, but his eyes wandered to his accusers. Like he couldn’t help himself. He held an intent look on each of them, trying to intimidate. She silently cheered for Cam as he held his ground, and didn’t let him bully him in life, the way he sometimes did in death. Katie couldn’t get over the fact that this was the same man who held Cam in his strong arms, and sung him to sleep in his crib. The same man who’d affectionately tousle his son’s hair when he did something well, or donate money to a children’s charity in Cam’s name for each home run he’d hit. Was any of it real? Was he that good an actor?
Katie braced as he shifted his gaze to her. If her legs served as his Kryptonite, then his smile was her equivalent. But when he flashed it in her direction, all she could see was Geoff. The little boy running on the beach in happier times. She thought of how determined he was, even playing hockey goalie on their high school team at Fairfield Prep, despite his physical challenge—she would bet anything he fought the bastard to his last breath. “You killed our son,” she whispered in his direction, and he looked away.
When the courtroom was seated, she fought back—providing him a view of her legs. But he had his own psychological warfare at play. His lawyer handed him a book, which he read as the judge spoke to the court.
At first she thought it was the Bible, which would be pretty laughable in itself. But when she looked closer, she noticed that it was The Great Gatsby, which by no coincidence was her favorite book.
She didn’t know what his intent was, but there was one. The one thing she did know was that he’d never read it. Because then he would have understood the main theme of Gatsby was that you can never turn back the clock, which was exactly what he was attempting to do.
But she did see the parallel. Gatsby was a man who charmed his way to the top of society using a fraudulent identity, but ended up alone, dead in a pool filled with his own blood. Katie thought that would be a fitting end to the story of the Jack Hammer.
Chapter 88
He always knew that he and Katie would be together again. He thought it would be at an outdoor café in Paris, or on a second honeymoon in Sedona. He never envisioned this dreadfully hot courthouse in Phoenix, wearing this clown suit. But he wasn’t complaining.
He fought so hard not to be discovered over the years, but as he entered the room to the heavy stares of the crowd, he realized this was the best thing that had happened to him. With all eyes upon him, and especially her eyes, he felt like the Jack Hammer once again.
He made eye contact with Jineane and the contingent that traveled down from Sedona. Jineane hadn’t showed any hint of wavering in her belief in him, and had pleasantly surprised him with her passion, and the rare articulation she displayed on the news last night. She would remain a valuable asset to Blake Fisher throughout the trial, he was sure of it.
She was flanked by George and Trent, who had that same look in their eyes—a mixture of disbelief and belief. Disbelief that Blake had been put in this surreal situation, but also a steadfast belief in the man they thought they knew. The old playbook might have instructed a fugitive like himself to go to the most remote region in an attempt to hide, but by becoming an integral part of the community he was able to recruit a small militia of followers who would stand by his side. He wasn’t alone.
As the judge continued to run down his list of crimes—murder of a US senator … treason against the United States of America … the murder of his own children, his eyes wandered to those who hunted him down. But he didn’t give Irina the small satisfaction that a look might provide her. She represented betrayal. It was one thing that the country that he risked his life to protect had cast him off like garbage following the Cold War, but that was nothing compared to Irina’s disloyalty in his absence—carrying on an affair with his own brother! And now she was screwing up the one good thing that came out of that ill-fated reunion—Natasha.
He looked right past her to his daughter, Anna, who truly was alive, and then her partner in crime, Sam O’Connell. He cursed himself for not seeing the job through to the end with Anna—the first thing he’d been taught in his training was to not assume anything until you witness the final breath. He had underestimated her. He had earned his capture with his sloppiness—he had no excuses.
His firstborn, Cam, stood his ground, staring right back at him with hate in his eyes. He was impressed. The mental weaknesses he’d witnessed from afar seemed to have vanished. And this transformation was after only one meeting with him, in which he was able to supply the discipline that had been sorely missing in his life.
The lawyers were arguing about things like bail and change of venue, but his mind remained on Katie. He couldn’t believe she was in the same room. He wanted to touch her—smell her—take her into his arms. It would come soon enough, he told himself, he just had to remain patient.
She wore the dress he so fondly remembered, which stirred up many emotions, but the prevailing one was relief—Katie hadn’t forgotten him. It had been his biggest fear.
After they were seated, more haggling ensued between lawyers. As they bickered, he glanced at Katie again, and felt a weakness permeate throughout his body. She purposely crossed, and then uncrossed her legs, in his direct line of sight. His weakness.
He responded, by asking one of his lawyers, Cook’s assistant, for the book he’d requested. It was the first edition copy of The Great Gatsby that Katie had given him for his final birthday as Jack Myles, just six weeks before his “death.” It was her favorite novel, and she had always encouraged him to read more, especially on the long road trips of a baseball life. It was the one souvenir he’d taken with him to Cuba.
He made like he was reading it at the defense table, while the lawyers carried on. To his followers, it might look like he was snubbing his nose at the proceedings, so disinterested that he’d decided to catch up on his reading, but he was really sending a signal to Katie. That a piece of her had always remained with him throughout the years.
As he sat, thumbing through the first pages, he basked in the spotlight that was finally back on him. It felt invigorating, like the warmth of sunlight on a cool Sedona morning. But just like that, his spotlight was unceremoniously ripped away.
All eyes had gone to a woman who entered the back of the courtroom. Her blonde hair was blinding, and her outfit revealing. She marched on her four-inch stilettos until she came into his view. He might have been the only one in the courtroom without a stunned look—he’d known his daughter too well not to think she wouldn’t make a grand entrance.
She stopped in her tracks, staring at him. “Oh my God … Daddy! It really is you!”
He said nothing, remaining calm in what was now a sea of chaos.
Her shock turned to anger. “You left us! Why!?”
Cook began screaming to the judge, as security made their way to Natasha. Her father worried for their safety.
Before they could get to her, she pulled off one of her heels and whipped it at him, like a knife being launched through the air. It missed his head by inches and crashed into the wall behind him.
The second shoe then came his way. Like a second serve in tennis, it was slower, but more accurate. It glanced off his shoulder, but did little damage.
Tears streamed down her face as security attempted to remove her from the courtroom. “Tell me it isn’t so, Daddy! Tell me …”
He just sat quietly and watched them escort her out. He caught a disapproving look from Irina, as if she wasn’t the one responsible for the emotional disaster their daughter had become.
Barney Cook began calling for charges to be dismissed, claiming his client would never be able to get a fair trial after such an outburst from a well-known individu
al. His request was denied, which pleased his client, since the last thing he wanted was for the charges to be dismissed at this point.
Bail is not normally given in a crime of this magnitude, but foreshadowing the fight that would be on their hands to earn a conviction, it was granted.
After his release, he walked proudly out of the courtroom into the stampede of oncoming media and their flashbulbs of excitement, hanging on his every word. He had beaten the odds. He was the Jack Hammer once more, and the upcoming trial of Blake Fisher would brighten his spotlight even further. It was his triumphant return, and he reveled in it.
But one thing was missing.
His eyes began frantically searching the area, looking for Katie. But she was nowhere to be found.
18 Months Later
Chapter 89
Whack! The crowd erupted in unison when the ball met the bat. Cam Myles had just turned eighteen months of jeers into cheers.
The ball soared over the right field wall at AT&T Park, plopping into the October-chilled San Francisco Bay. He normally kept his head down as he rounded the bases after a home run, as if embarrassed by the feat. But after his game-tying shot in the bottom of the eighth inning of Game-6 of the World Series, he held it high.
He searched the jubilant crowd until he found those who had his back the whole time. Sam was holding Milla on her lap, both of them clapping away with priceless grins. Salvino sat beside her, and the look on his face said that he was taking credit for the batting practice he pitched to Cam on those cold nights back in DC.
But Cam couldn’t hold back his smile when he viewed his mother cheering wildly. It was almost like she was letting out years of emotion that she’d been holding inside. He thought of the long journey to get to this moment, and the words she’d instilled in him and Geoff. If you put your mind to something … and stick with it—which was the part that was always Cam’s downfall—anything was possible in this world. And nothing made her point more than the trial of the Jack Hammer, which concluded last winter on a snowy afternoon in Washington D.C. To Cam, it seemed like a million years ago.
The Jack Hammer Page 27