The Pact

by Jodi Picoult

  "How long have you worked there?"

  "Ten years." She smiled. "This June."

  There was a brief exchange about her training, her work at the police academy, and her experience within the police force. Then Barrie stopped pacing, her hand on the railing of the witness stand. "Who was in charge of the investigation surrounding the death of Emily Gold?"

  "I was," the detective said.

  "Did you determine the cause of death?"

  "Yes. A gunshot wound to the head."

  "So there was a weapon involved in this case."

  "A Colt .45."

  "And were you able to retrieve the weapon?"

  Anne-Marie nodded. "It was at the scene of the crime," she said. "Lying on a carousel. We took the gun and ran a variety of ballistics tests on it."

  "Is this the gun you retrieved from the scene of the crime?" Barrie asked, holding up the Colt .45.

  "That's it," Detective Marrone said.

  "Your Honor," Barrie said, "I'd like to enter this as Exhibit A." She went through the customary procedure, showing the gun to Jordan, who dismissively waved it away. Then she turned back to the detective. "Did you determine where the gun came from?"

  "Yes. It was traced back to its owner, James Harte."

  James, behind the defense table, started at the sound of his name. "James Harte," the prosecutor said. "Is that any relation to the defendant?"

  "Objection," Jordan called out. "Relevance?"

  "I'll allow it," the judge said.

  The detective looked from the judge to Barrie Delaney. "It's his father."

  "Did you have a chance to interview James Harte?"

  "Yes. He said that the gun was a collector's item, but still used for target practice. His also said his son was familiar with the gun, had access to it, and used it as well for target shooting."

  "Can you tell us about the tests you ran on the weapon?"

  Detective Marrone shifted in her chair. "Well, we determined that there was one bullet fired, which went into the victim's temple, exited the victim's head, and lodged in the wood of the carousel. We found the casing from that bullet still in the chamber of the gun, as well as a second bullet that had not been fired. Christopher Harte's fingerprints were on both of those bullets."

  Barrie pointed. "By Christopher Harte, you mean the defendant."

  "Yes," Detective Marrone said.

  "Hmm." Barrie turned to the jury, as if she was deliberating over this tidbit for the first time. "So his fingerprints were on both bullets. Did you find anybody else's fingerprints on the bullets?"

  "No."

  "And what, in your expert opinion, does that suggest?"

  "He was the only one who handled the bullets."

  "I see," Barrie said. "Were there any other tests done on the weapon?"

  "Yes, a standard ballistics test checked for fingerprints on the gun itself. We found both Christopher Harte's and Emily Gold's fingerprints on the gun. However, Mr. Harte's fingerprints were all over it. The victim's fingerprints were only on the barrel of the gun."

  "Can you show us what you mean?" Barrie asked, picking up the Colt, with its new exhibit tag.

  The detective easily palmed the gun. "Mr. Harte's fingerprints were here, here, and here," she said, pointing. "Emily Gold's fingerprints were only in this region." She scraped her fingernail along the blunt steel barrel.

  "But to shoot this gun, Detective Marrone, you would have to have your hand where?" She waited for Anne-Marie to indicate the butt of the gun. "And Emily's fingerprints were not there."

  "No."

  "Yet Mr. Harte's were."

  "Objection," Jordan said lazily. "Asked and answered."

  "Sustained," Puckett said.

  Barrie turned her back on Jordan. "Was any other testing done at the crime scene?"

  "Yes. We did a Luminol test, a fluorescent spray that detects blood spatter patterns. Based on that, as well as the angle of the bullet that eventually lodged in the carousel, we deduced that Emily Gold was standing up when the bullet was fired, and that someone else was standing very close and slightly in front of her. We also know that she lay on her back and bleeding for several minutes before she was moved into the position in which officers first found her when arriving at the scene of the crime."

  "Which was?"

  "Bleeding profusely with her head in the defendant's lap."

  "And did the Luminol pick up anything else?"

  "Yes. A large stain not tied to the spatter pattern of the bullet wound, where the defendant supposedly struck his head."

  "Objection." Jordan gestured at Chris. "Would you like to see the scar?"

  Puckett gave Jordan a measured glance. "Continue, Ms. Delaney," he said.

  "From that stain, is it possible to determine how or why the defendant fell down?" Barrie asked.

  "No," the detective said. "It only shows that he lay still there for about five minutes, bleeding."

  "I see. Any other tests?"

  "There was gunpowder residue found on both the victim's and the defendant's clothing. We also tested the corpse of the victim for gunpowder residue on the fingers."

  "And what did you find?"

  "There was no gunpowder residue on Emily Gold's fingers."

  "In a suicide, with a victim holding the gun in her hand when she shot herself, would you normally find gunpowder residue on the hands?"

  "Definitely. That's why I started to think Emily Gold did not kill herself."

  Barrie was silent for a moment, assessing the faces of her jury. And they were hers now. Every single one of the twelve sat on the edge of his or her seat; several were taking careful notes on the provided pads of paper. "Was there anything else you found at the scene of the crime?"

  "We found a bottle of Canadian Club. Liquor."

  "Ah ... underage drinking," Barrie said, smiling.

  The detective grinned, too. "It wasn't my biggest concern at the time."

  At this, Jordan objected. "Your Honor," he said, "if there was a question somewhere in there, I missed it."

  Puckett rolled an almond about on his tongue, neatly tucking it into the pouch of his cheek. "Watch yourself, counselor," he warned Barrie.

  "Was there anything that stood out in the autopsy report?"

  Anne-Marie nodded. "The victim was eleven weeks pregnant."

  The prosecutor walked the detective through the interviews she'd done with the friends of Emily Gold, her neighbors--with one glaring exception, her parents, her teachers. "Detective Marrone, did you also have a chance to speak to the defendant?" Barrie made sure to catch Anne-Marie's eye. The detective was good, a professional, but she'd been forewarned to not mention the conversation she'd had with Chris at the hospital. Ruled inadmissible, even its mention could be cause for a mistrial.

  "Yes, I did. He came down to the police station on November eleventh. I read him his rights, and he waived them."

  "Is this the police report transcribing the conversation on November eleventh?" The prosecutor held up a file, emblazoned with the logo of the Bainbridge police.

  "It is," the detective said.

  "How soon, Detective, after your meeting with Christopher Harte, did you write this report?"

  "Immediately after he left."

  "What was the gist of that conversation?"

  "Mr. Harte basically told me he brought the gun to the scene of the crime, went to the scene of the crime, and watched Emily Gold shoot herself."

  "Did that add up to the evidence you'd seen?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  Detective Marrone cocked her head, staring at Chris. He felt his cheeks redden, and forced himself to keep his gaze steady and direct. "If it was just one of those things, instead of all of them ... if it was only that the bullet traveled through the victim's head at a weird angle--"

  "Objection!"

  "Or if there were bruises on her wrist, but everything else seemed consistent with suicide--"

  "Objection!"

&
nbsp; "--or if even one person described her as troubled. But too much just didn't add up."

  "Objection, Your Honor!"

  The judge narrowed his eyes at Jordan. "Overruled," he said.

  Barrie's heart was pounding. "So it wasn't a suicide, in your expert opinion, in spite of what the defendant told you. From what you had seen of the evidence--the fingerprints, the blood spatter patterns, the gunpowder residue, the liquor bottle, the interviews--did you form an alternative theory of what happened?"

  "Yes," Detective Marrone said firmly. "Christopher Harte murdered her."

  "How did you come up with that?"

  Anne-Marie began to speak, weaving a picture that hung in the courtroom like a tapestry, rich in detail and impossible to ignore. "Emily was a happy kid that no one--not teachers, not parents, not friends--considered depressed in any way. She was pretty, popular, had a great relationship with her parents--a model daughter. She was eleven weeks pregnant with her boyfriend's child. And Chris was a senior in high school, about to go off to college, already applying--he was certainly at a point where he didn't need a baby in his life, or a girlfriend who was clinging to him."

  Jordan considered objecting--this was all speculative--but realized that would only hurt him, and make the detective's testimony take on more importance than he wanted it to. He sighed loudly, hoping to convey to the jury how ludicrous he found Marrone's theory.

  The detective lowered her voice, and the jury strained forward to listen. "So he arranged to go to the carousel for some kind of romantic rendezvous. He gave her something to drink, trying to get her intoxicated so that she wouldn't fight him when he pulled out the gun. They had sex, they got dressed, he pulled her into an embrace, and before she knew what was happening, there was a gun pressed to her head." Anne-Marie raised her own hand to her temple, then brought it down. "She fought him, but he was a lot bigger and stronger than she was, and he shot her. That," she said, sighing, "is how I see it."

  Barrie headed back to her table, almost ready to relinquish her witness. "Thank you, Detective. Oh, one last question. Was there anything else important that came out of your interview with Christopher Harte at the police station?"

  Anne-Marie nodded. "He had to sign a paper to agree to the interview, it's standard procedure. And he picked up the pen with his left hand. So I asked him about it, and he told me that he was indeed a lefty."

  "And why was that significant, Detective?"

  "Because we know from the path of the bullet and the pattern of the blood spatter that someone else was there, facing Emily. And if that person shot her in the right temple, he had to have done it with his left hand."

  "Thank you," Barrie said. "Nothing further."

  WHEN JORDAN STOOD UP for his first cross-examination, he smiled at Anne-Marie Marrone. "Detective," he said, "we all heard you tell Ms. Delaney that you've been with the police force for ten years. Ten years." He whistled. "That's a long time to be in the public service."

  Anne-Marie nodded, too smart and too practiced at this to relax, as Jordan intended. "I like what I do, Mr. McAfee."

  "Yeah?" Jordan said, grinning widely. "Me, too." In the jury box, someone snickered. "In ten years, Detective, how many homicides have you worked on?"

  "Two."

  "Two," Jordan repeated. "Two homicides." He wrinkled his brow. "This is the second?"

  "Correct."

  "So you've only worked on one before this?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, then, why did they pick you to be in charge of this investigation?"

  High color rose in Anne-Marie's cheeks. "It's a small department," she said, "and I'm the head detective. It falls to me."

  "So. It's your second murder," he said, stressing the utter lack of this expert's expertise. "And you started off by looking at the gun. Is that right?"

  "Yes."

  "And you found two sets of fingerprints on it."

  "Yes."

  "And you found two bullets."

  "Yes."

  "But if someone was going to shoot you at very close range, he wouldn't need two bullets, would he?"

  "That depends," the detective said.

  "I realize this is somewhat new to you, Detective," Jordan said, "but yes or no will do."

  He saw Anne-Marie set her jaw. "No," she gritted out.

  "On the other hand," Jordan continued breezily, "wouldn't it make sense that if you and a friend were planning to commit a double suicide, you'd need two bullets?"

  "Yes."

  "And Chris's fingerprints were on those bullets?"

  "Yes."

  "Is it consistent with a double suicide that Chris's fingerprints be the only ones on the bullets if, by Chris's own admission, it was his father's gun and he brought that gun?"

  "Yes."

  "In fact, wouldn't it be unusual to see Emily's fingerprints on the bullets loaded into the chamber since she had no experience with guns at all?"

  "I guess so."

  "Wonderful. You also told Ms. Delaney you did some testing on that gun."

  "That's correct."

  "You found Emily's fingerprints on the gun, along with Chris's, didn't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Isn't it true that you found additional fingerprints on the gun?"

  "Yes. Some that matched up with James Harte, the defendant's father."

  "Really. But he wasn't under suspicion during your investigation."

  Anne-Marie sighed. "That's because his fingerprints were the only evidence that placed him at the scene of the crime."

  "So you can't only rely on fingerprint evidence, can you? Just because someone's fingerprints are on a gun doesn't mean they happened to be touching it that particular night?"

  "That's correct."

  "Ah. You found Emily's fingerprints on the top of the gun," Jordan said, walking over toward the display of evidence. "Any objection to me picking this up?" he asked, gesturing to the Colt. He lifted it in his hand gingerly. "And you found Chris's fingerprints around here, on the bottom."

  "That's right."

  "But you found no conclusive fingerprints on the actual trigger of the gun."

  "No, we did not."

  Jordan nodded thoughtfully. "Is it true that you need only a quarter inch of a fingerprint, a very small area indeed, to make a conclusive match?"

  "Well, yes," Anne-Marie said, "but it has to be the right quarter inch. A particular spot."

  "So fingerprints aren't as easy to pick up as it looks in the movies?"

  "No, they're not."

  "Can they get smudged by newer fingerprints?"

  "Yes."

  "In fact, Detective, testing for fingerprints is far from an exact science, wouldn't you say?"

  "Yes."

  "If I pick up this gun and fire, and then you pick it up and fire, is it possible that my fingerprints would not show up on that trigger?"

  "Maybe not," Anne-Marie conceded.

  "So is it possible that Emily pulled the trigger, and then when Chris picked up the gun he erased, if you will, her original fingerprints?"

  "It's possible."

  "Let me recap: Even though Emily's fingerprints were not identified on the trigger during your testing, Detective Marrone, can you say without a doubt that she never touched that trigger?"

  "No--but then again Chris could have touched it too, without it showing up." She smiled neatly at Jordan.

  Jordan drew in his breath. "Let's talk about the Luminol," he said. "You said that the blood spatter pattern on the carousel indicated a spot where the defendant was bleeding."

  "I assume so. He was bleeding from a scalp wound when officers arrived."

  "Yet you say it's not proof that Chris fainted. So are you telling me," he said scornfully, "that Chris lay down on the carousel floor, smacked his head on the edge, and then lay there for several minutes to let a pool of blood form?"

  Anne-Marie looked down her nose at him. "It's been done before."

  "Really?" Jordan asked, with true surprise.
"I assume that was during your one previous murder case?"

  "Objection!" Barrie said.

  "Sustained." Puckett glared at Jordan. "I don't have to warn you, Mr. McAfee."

  Jordan walked to the exhibit table. "Is this the transcript of your interview with Chris Harte?"

  "Yes."

  "Can you read this line ... right here?" He brought the papers to the detective and pointed.

  Anne-Marie cleared her throat. "'We were going to kill ourselves together.'"

  "That's a direct quote of something that Chris Harte said to you."

  "Yes."

  "He told you outright that this was a double suicide."

  "Yes, he did."

  "And can you tell me what this says, on page three?"

  The detective glanced at Barrie Delaney. "There was a pause in the tape."

  "Hmm. Why?"

  "I had to shut the recorder off because the subject was crying."

  "Chris was crying? How come?"

  Anne-Marie sighed. "We were talking about Emily, and he got very upset."

  "In your expert opinion, is that consistent with genuine grieving?"

  "Objection," Barrie said. "My witness is not an expert on grief."

  "I'll allow it," said the judge.

  The detective shrugged. "I suppose so," she said.

  "So let me get this straight. In the middle of this interview, an interview where Chris Harte waived his right to have me present and said, flat-out, that he and Emily were going to commit suicide together, he started crying so hard that you had to actually stop the tape?"

  "Yes," Anne-Marie said pointedly. "But we didn't have a lie detector hooked up, either."

  If Jordan heard her, he showed no sign of it. "You mentioned that in your theory, Chris was trying to get Emily drunk."

  "Yes, I believe that."

  "The idea being that she would be submissive," Jordan clarified.

  "Correct."

  "Did you, by any chance, have the coroner check Emily's blood/alcohol level?"

  "They do that automatically," the detective said.

  "Did you find out what it was?"

  "Yes," she said grudgingly. ".02."

  "Which would be consistent with what, Detective?"

  Anne-Marie coughed. "One drink. Maybe one shot for a small girl."

  "She had one shot of alcohol out of that whole bottle."

  "Apparently, yes."

  "And the legal level for driving in this state is what, Detective?"

  ".08."

  "What was Emily's, again?"

  "I told you," Anne Marie said. ".02."

  "Considerably less than the legal limit for driving while intoxicated. Would you say that she was drunk, then?"

  "Probably not."