Chapter 56 – More Silent Communiqués
Friday morning June 13, 2008 – 10:10 AM
Judging from Frank Newlan’s snidely written exposition, one might have been under the false impression that Tracy Stone had just put a lethal hex on renowned Defense Attorney R. J. Gleason; but as it turns out, Newlan’s radar was once again off by a few degrees.
Perhaps Stone truly would have been unmoved if by an untimely stroke of fate Gleason were to have dropped dead on the spot, or perhaps not. But regardless of her animosity gradient, and regardless of the uneasy strength of her resolve, she wasn’t the only person present in courtroom 630 of the Middlesex Superior Courthouse who may have been wishing the noted councilor a painful death. And while her methods were for the most part fanciful, if no less serious, her counterpart’s leanings were much more direct and to the point
Understandably enough, based solely on Gleason’s exploitive handling of John Breslin’s defensive strategies, Fred Miller’s younger brother, Cameron “Cam” Miller had come to despise the sleazy barrister almost as much as he loathed Breslin himself, and as such, he wouldn’t have been pained in the least if, by some unfortunate seizure of bad luck, Gleason’s central nervous system were to have gotten shut down by a massive coronary right then and there on the courtroom floor; or better yet, a knife in the back for the both of them, and be done with it.
And although Tracy and Cam’s thought-processes appeared to have been functioning in total independence of each other, perhaps they were more conjoined at the hip than meets the eye. Perhaps Tracy’s spellbinding gaze was aimed at Cam Miller, not at R. J. Gleason. Perhaps he was the brawn and she was the brains behind a covert operation, the likes of which he could never have consciously imagined; the likes of which he wasn’t fully aware even existed.
For unbeknownst to Cam, who was seated on the center-aisle end of the front row bench, intensely watching the action, Tracy had subtly initiated a hypnotic brand of eye-contact on him as she wound her way off the witness stand…and somehow, she had infiltrated his mind.
Cam nodded his head in approval, as if to say “nice job”, and Tracy cast him a sly wink in return. And as she walked on by, her crackling fingers brushed up against his arm which had been leaning over the starboard side of the pew-styled bench, and as it turned out, this fleeting flick of the wrist was enough to send a sudden shockwave flowing through her befuddled prey’s body.
For a second or two, Cam assumed that the magnetic charge was caused by a wallop of static electricity rising up from off of the carpeting. But then in an instant, he determined that perhaps it might be something more. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that some sort of effervescent flame had come rushing up from somewhere beneath Tracy’s shuffling shoes, right on through to the fiery tips of her fingers, before being transferred into his veins like a piercing shot from an inoculating needle.
Cam wasn’t all that clear about what had just happened to him, but he knew that he had to find out. He wasn’t quite certain where this vigorous boost of vitality was coming from, but there was one thing he knew for damned sure; in all his life, he had never felt more alive. And then, suddenly it hit him; the feeling he was experiencing at precisely this moment was the very same warming glow that had engulfed him, like the bed of a tanning booth, on that icy morning all those months ago, in the cold, dark cemetery where his brother’s body had been laid to rest; there was no doubt in his mind that it was an identical shiver which had stormed through his body, then and now; and furthermore, it was the exact same adrenaline rush he had experienced just yesterday when he found himself consoling Tracy in the courthouse cafeteria. It wasn’t static electricity that was sending this unexplainable surge of energy zapping through his bones. No, not at all; it was the alluring touch of one Ms. Tracy Stone.
Cam snuck a hasty glance over to his left, where his wife Susan’s head lay resting on his shoulder, in what was a concealed attempt to gauge whether she might have become aware of something suspiciously murky going on between Tracy and himself. The flash of light was so powerful that Cam could have sworn the bolt had flowed right through him and jolted his wife as well. However, Susan Miller was apparently none the wiser, and as a result, Cam’s imagination was free to safely drift off in reverential pursuit of its newfound source of fantasy and pleasurable desire, the former Mrs. John Breslin.
With the aid of this insoluble, bottled-up, potion which was flowing through his bloodstream like the time-released formula of a 5 hour energy drink, all things suddenly seemed possible to Cam Miller; all things, including a torrid affair with one Ms. Tracy Stone; all things, including the death and destruction of one Mr. John Breslin; all things, including the demise of one deceitful Attorney at Law, Mr. R. J. Gleason.
Cam carefully weighed out the dizzying pros and cons of all these things and more while he marked the time waiting in breathless anticipation for the next witness to take the stand. He had played out countless scenarios in his head in recent days; scenarios which had come to him like a dream. But now, at long last, the conniving plot of the invisible harlot who had been whispering sweet nothings in his ears for months on end, finally appeared to be crystallizing and coming into focus. With one leap he could see himself scaling the divider that separated the gallery from the defense table. With one leap he could see himself pouncing on top of Breslin before the bastard even knew what hit him. With one leap he could see himself mounting Tracy’s sublime body in a dominant missionary position. With one leap he could see himself sticking a shiv in Breslin’s back. With one leap he could see himself frightening the very life out of R.J. Gleason. With one leap he could see himself with his hands wrapped around Breslin’s neck, choking for all he was worth, regardless of the consequences.
Cam was utterly fed up with the uncertainty of the legal process; he was fed up with the slow-turning wheels of justice; he was fed up with everything that the trial had come to represent. He just wanted the whole mess to be over with and for Breslin to get his comeuppance; not later, but now; not tomorrow, but at that very hour.
And lately, whenever Cam found himself caught up in one of these irritable moods, he would just about always come away convinced that he’d be better off taking matters into his own hands. However, when push came to shove, he’d inevitably chalk up his restlessness to a peculiar fit of bountiful fantasy…up until now that is; because now that the cloak-and-dagger Tracy Stone had secretly come along and strengthened his resolve, there was no stopping him. Now that Tracy Stone had come along and surreptitiously left him feeling as if all things were possible, there was no looking back.
In the past, Cam’s good conscience would invariably win out whenever one of these internally combustible arguments broke out in his head; after all no man wishes to end up behind the walls of a prison cell; for then, he’d be looked down upon by civilized society as being no better than the contemptible John Breslin. But now however, all of a sudden, his bad conscience seemed to be gaining the upper-hand, much like the winning side’s struggle for the long end of the rope in a hard-fought battle of tug-o-war. Now, he desperately craved for the prodigiously singular chance to follow up on this strange magic which had come over him like a thief in the night. Now he perilously lusted to transform his grim vision into a wonderfully stark reality.
Cam cautiously waded through this thorny sea of pointed mountaintops; he carefully balanced himself on the toothy horns of his dilemma; and with the help of the mysteriously sensual, echoing voice in his head, which had once again come to the rescue in his time of need, he came to an obvious conclusion; at least in his mind anyway.
“Why can’t I have it all? If I don’t seduce Tracy then you can be sure as hell that somebody else will. Why can’t I have my luscious cake and eat it too? But of course, I’d better make my move sooner rather than later, because you never know, I just might wind up going stark-mad crazy any minute now…and in the process, I just might wind up taking B
reslin and Gleason along with me for the ride…or even better, I just might wind up taking the both of them out with my own bare hands.”
And as Cam meticulously considered every possible cause and effect, his mind became cloudier and clearer, all at the same time.
“Maybe I should hire someone in the joint to slit Breslin’s throat. Wouldn’t that be ironic…me hiring a hit-man to shank him, just like he hired someone to blow away my brother? Then I’d be in the clear to pursue the more pleasurable sins of the flesh with the son-of-a-bitch’s ex-wife. Aaah…but I have to admit that it would be twice as nice if I were somehow able to butcher the bastard myself.”
Yes indeed, all of a sudden, all things suddenly seemed possible to Cam Miller. But one thing seemed more than just possible. One thing was absolutely 100% certain; one way or another, he was going to leave an indelible mark on the current proceedings; one way or another, just as sure as the day he was born, with the helping hand of the seductive voice which was ringing in his head nonstop like a church bell gong, he was going to reach historic new heights, never before ventured in his entire life. And if the powers-that-be were going to take him down, then, much like the delusional Saeed Kahn, he had every intention of going out…in grand fashion.
From the Eyes of a Juror Page 65