Blind Conviction
A Nate Shepherd Novel
Michael Stagg
Contents
STONE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
EARTH
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
OIL
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
ASH
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
BONE
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
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Also by Michael Stagg
Blind Conviction
A Nate Shepherd Novel
Copyright © 2020 Michael Stagg
All rights reserved.
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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STONE
1
They found Abby Ackerman at seven a.m., lying twisted among the rocks at the bottom of the abandoned stairs. I’d like to say it was because the lifeguards were so diligent, but really, it was because one of them had snuck over to the far side of Century Quarry to burn a cigarette before his shift started and had noticed the glint of gold on her wrist.
It was at least forty feet from the top of the stairs down to the water’s edge. Fortunately, Abby had gotten wedged between the rocks, which kept her from slipping into the deep water of the Quarry itself. Those same striated rocks almost hid her though, blending in with her reddish-brown hair and her boots and her blood so that, if it weren’t for the flash of her bracelet in the sunlight, they might not have found her that morning at all.
The lifeguard was a lifeguard after all, so he tossed the cigarette, rushed down the stairs to the cement pad at the bottom, and scrambled over the rocks to check her. Then he got on his radio to call for help and, within minutes, the rescue squad was there, trying to figure out how to get her out.
It took a few more minutes before they could move her. When they did, they saw that one side of her face had been smashed and that the bones on the outside of one eye had been collapsed. The chief paramedic had seen plenty of slip and falls in her day and she had seen plenty of blunt force trauma, so she decided that they had better call Sheriff Dushane.
The Sheriff arrived quickly and did what sheriffs do. He cordoned off the area, found evidence, and was zeroing in on a suspect by the end of the day. He agreed with the chief paramedic that Abby had sustained blunt force trauma and believed her attacker had used a rock but, given that the scene was literally a stone quarry filled with rocks submerged in water, he never found the one that was used.
That didn’t matter though. Sheriff Dushane found plenty of other evidence, which he methodically collected, then turned over to the prosecutor. After that, he made an arrest.
I learned about the attack on Abby Ackerman a week after it happened. By that time, everyone else had a huge head start. I soon found that the case was a lot like the crystal-clear water of the Quarry itself.
It distorted the view of the bottom. And it was a lot deeper than you think.
2
The case didn’t start out like the mess it became, but then, I suppose it never does.
No, this case started when Olivia Brickson stuck her head into my office and said, “Morning, Shep.”
I was surprised, not at the shock of bleached white hair or the half-mirrored sunglasses because those were typical for her, but because she was there. It was eight-thirty in the morning, a time when she was usually working at her gym.
“Hey, Liv. Don’t you have a dawn death march class to teach or something right now?”
“It’s a morning boot camp and Cade’s covering it for me. Can I come in?”
“Of course.” Olivia owned a gym with her brother Cade. She was also an investigator and we’d worked together on my biggest cases. If she was here, it was serious. “What’s up?”
She sat. “I have a potential case for you.”
“Shoot.”
“It came from a friend of mine at the gym. Her fiancé has been accused of attempted murder.”
“Okay.”
“He didn’t do it.”
“Shocking.”
“I believe her.”
“Alright. Do you have names and info for me?”
“Actually, I have the accused’s parents.”
I blinked. “What do you mean you have them? Here?”
Olivia nodded. The glasses always made it hard to read her expression, so there might have been a tinge of “I’m sorry” to it, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Well, I guess I’d better talk to them then. No promises though.”
She nodded. “That’s what I told them.”
I went out and saw that there was a couple waiting in the main conference room. I grabbed them each a cup of coffee and Olivia motioned that she’d stay outside. As I passed her, she whispered, “Alban and Susanna Mack.” I nodded thanks and went in to meet them as she shut the door behind me.
They stood and we shook hands. I handed them the coffee as we introduced ourselves all around. Mr. and Mrs. Mack looked like they were in their sixties and in reasonably good health. Mr. Mack sat down and took off a baseball cap with a logo that read “Mack Farms,” revealing a bald head with a ring of hair that was still mostly brown. Mrs. Mack’s hair had a bit of white in the front that fell around sharp, focused eyes, and she carried a small spiral notebook and a pen.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mack, Olivia tells me that your son has been accused of attempted murder.”
“It doesn’t make any sense, Mr. Shepherd,” said Mr. Mack. “None at all.”
“Our Archie wouldn’t hurt a woman,” said Mrs. Mack. “And he certainly wouldn’t hurt Hamish’s Abby.”
I was suddenly swimming in a sea of “A’s.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Mack. Hamish, Abby, Archie…I have no idea who everyone is.”
Mr. Mack nodded to his wife.
“Our oldest son is Archie, Archie Mack,” Mrs. Mack said. “He’s accused of attempting to kill Abby Ackerman.”
“Okay.”
“Abby is the fiancée of our youngest son, Hamish.”
; Mr. Mack shook his head. “That’s why it makes no godd—” Mr. Mack got a sharp look from Mrs. Mack. “That’s why it makes no sense,” he said. “They’ve always gotten on great.”
“And who told Olivia about this?”
“Bonnie,” said Mrs. Mack. “Bonnie Price. Archie’s fiancée. She works out at Olivia’s gym.”
“Alright. How is Abby?”
“Not great,” said Mr. Mack. “Her hip was shattered and her head was banged up so that she broke her”—Mr. Mack looked at his wife—“Orbit bone?”
“Orbital bone,” said Mrs. Mack.
“Right, her orbital bone here.” He indicated the side of his face.
“I see. And they’re accusing Archie of being the one who attacked Abby?”
“He didn’t do it,” said Mrs. Mack.
“Even Abby says so,” said Mr. Mack.
“I see,” I said again, although I absolutely didn’t. “Do you know what happened?”
Mr. Mack started to speak, but Mrs. Mack raised her hand and said, “Abby was attacked by someone last week after the Big Luke concert. They think our oldest son Archie did it. He didn’t.”
“What does Abby say?”
“She agrees Archie didn’t do it.”
Which was an interesting way to put it.
“Then why was he arrested?”
Mr. Mack waved a hand. “Sheriff Dushane said some nonsense about video and blood.”
“I know Sheriff Dushane. He’s not going to arrest someone without evidence.”
Mr. Mack waved again. “It’s circumferential.”
I decided not to get into a discussion about the nature of evidence and the measurements of circles. Instead, I said, “So how old is your son?”
Mr. Mack looked at his wife the way husbands do when they’ve stored information in the other half of their marriage.
“Thirty-nine,” she said.
“Then, Mr. and Mrs. Mack, I need to speak to your son about this.”
Mrs. Mack looked relieved. “That’s exactly what we need.”
I wasn’t at all sure this was a case I wanted to get involved in, so I said, “Olivia told you about me?”
“At first. Olivia told Bonnie and Bonnie told us, but we go to church with Judge French so we asked him about you. He agreed you were the man to call.”
I swore in my head. I’d just finished a murder trial a couple of months ago in front of Judge French. His opinion meant a lot, and I didn’t want to turn down a case he’d recommended me for, but I still needed to sort through this cluster a little more before taking it.
“I’ll need to talk to your son. He’s the one who has to engage me.”
“We run the same farm,” Mrs. Mack said. “The money all comes from the same place.”
“I understand. He still needs to be the one to hire me though.”
“The point is, our son had no reason to hurt Hamish’s girl,” said Mr. Mack.
“You mentioned that.”
“And there's no reason for our boy to be in jail,” said Mrs. Mack. “And Judge French said you’d know how to get to the bottom of it.” They looked at me expectantly.
There was one more potential out.
“This kind of case is expensive.”
“We run a large farm, Mr. Shepherd,” said Mrs. Mack. “We know all about lawyers. How much?”
I told her.
To their credit, Mr. Mack didn’t blink and Mrs. Mack just nodded her head before saying, “You’ll have it in the morning.”
I raised a hand. “I haven’t taken the case yet. I need to talk to your son and to Sheriff Dushane. After that, I’ll circle back around to you.”
Mrs. Mack opened the notebook, and I saw her write down “Shepherd,” underline it, then write down a numbered column of “1. Archie” and “2. Sheriff Dushane.”
I felt instantly accountable.
Mrs. Mack snapped the cap back onto her pen. “Thank you, Mr. Shepherd. You’re just what Archie needs.”
“Maybe.”
“Right, right.” She waved a hand and gathered her things.
We all stood and Mr. Mack picked his hat up off the table. I shook Mr. Mack's hand; it was hard and worn from a lifetime of work. Mrs. Mack’s was just as firm. I smiled and walked them to the door with promises I’d be in touch soon.
Daniel Reddy, my associate, came out of his office as they left.
“Where did Olivia go?” I asked.
“She said she had a class to save from Cade. What was that about?”
“Did you hear about a woman who was attacked after the Big Luke concert last week?”
“That was out at the Quarry, wasn’t it?”
“I think.”
“I did. Are we representing her against the Quarry?”
“No. Their son is accused of attacking her. We might represent him.”
Danny stared at me.
“Allegedly.”
Danny leaned his long frame against the doorway and sighed. “I just got back from Petoskey, you know.”
“So you should be well rested.”
Danny looked at the ceiling in what can only be described as a look of infinite patience.
“Nothing official yet,” I said. “I’ll go find out what’s going on first.”
“I can’t wait.”
I left Danny to his daydreams of Petoskey stones and better bosses and headed out.
My office is in Carrefour. If you’ve never visited us before, Carrefour is a small city that sits right on the border of Michigan and Ohio, not too far from Indiana. According to the Macks, the attempted murder had happened at Century Quarry, which is on the Michigan side of the line. That meant that the investigation would be under the jurisdiction of the Sheriff of Ash County, Michigan, Warren Dushane. The Sheriff's office is in the town of Dellville, twenty minutes north, which is also where the Ash County jail is located. I decided to visit the sheriff first. I’d called ahead, so he was waiting for me when I arrived and showed me straight back to his office.
Sheriff Dushane was a cinderblock of a man. In his early sixties, he was still thick-armed and barrel-chested, with the only indication of his advancing age being the loosening of one extra notch on his gun belt. He was dressed as a Michigan sheriff—brown wide-brimmed hat, a brown shirt with yellow borders, and khaki pants. He had a blunt face and a salt-and-pepper mustache and was just as comfortable with the gun belt around his waist as he was with a coach’s whistle around his neck, which was how I’d first met him when he’d coached me and my brothers and my friends in pee wee football.
“How’s your dad?” Sheriff Dushane said as he dropped into his chair.
“Good. It’s morning, so I imagine he’s still on the water.”
Sheriff Dushane nodded. “We caught a good run of perch last weekend. How does Tom’s team look?”
Tom was my older brother and the coach of the Carrefour North High School football team. “You know you can’t trust a coach in August. If you listened to Tom, you’d believe his whole team has broken legs and scurvy.”
Sheriff Dushane chuckled. “True enough. Guess I’ll have to find out with everyone else.”
“How about your granddaughter? Is she playing volleyball again?”
He nodded. “J.V. Middle hitter.”
“Outstanding. My niece is too. I’ll look for you.”
“I’ll be running the scoreboard.” He smiled and rubbed the side of his face. “I’ve been told that it keeps me occupied.”
It was my turn to chuckle. I’ve been a sideline witness to Coach Dushane’s enthusiasm. The scoreboard seemed like a good idea.
“So what can I do you for, Nate?”
“I had the parents of a potential client come to see me this morning. I wanted to check around before I took the case.”
Sheriff Dushane leaned back. “Did I arrest him?”
“I’m guessing you did but I don’t know for sure.”
“Okay.” Sheriff Dushane turned toward his computer and put a ha
nd on his mouse. “What’s his name?”
“Archie Mack. Archibald, I think.”
Sheriff Dushane straightened, took his hand off the mouse, and turned back to face me before folding his thick hands in front of him. “Yes, Nate, I certainly did.”
“For an assault at Century Quarry?”
“For an attack that left a young woman nearly dead at Century Quarry.”
I nodded. “What can you tell me?”
Sheriff Dushane stared for a few seconds before he said, “We have to turn square corners on this one, Nate. It’s a bad case.”
“That’s why I asked what you can tell me. Nothing more.”
Sheriff Dushane stood. He walked out of the room and, a short time later, returned with two cups of coffee. He sat down, sipped his, thought a moment more, then said, “Big Luke played a concert at Century Quarry last week. A woman named Abby Ackerman attended. The morning after the concert, she was found on the rocks, by the water, barely alive.”
“Where in the Quarry?”
“You know it?”
“I worked there in high school.”
Sheriff Dushane nodded. “At the bottom of the abandoned stairs.”
“The stairs on the closed side?”
“Exactly.”
I thought. “It’s dark there. Or used to be.”
“Still is. That’s why they didn’t find her until sunrise the next day.”
Blind Conviction (Nate Shepherd Legal Thriller Series Book 3) Page 1