by J. V. Speyer
Luis hadn’t noticed tight bands around his chest, but he found one of them releasing at Judge Sullivan’s words. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, sir.”
Fahey looked mildly put out, but she nodded. “Crystal clear, sir.”
Morello looked away, but his nod was vigorous. “Thank you, sir.”
The tech started the broadcast, and the show began.
Sullivan started off. “Members of the jury, I’m sure you’ll recall that Agent Gomes’ testimony had to be rescheduled due to unforeseen circumstances. As it happens, he was injured in a work-related incident and is still hospitalized. Doctors are only now willing to allow him to testify, but it has to be here, due to medical issues.”
Luis would have been perfectly happy to go to the courthouse. Then he remembered he couldn’t even make it to the bathroom and back without help. He’d still rather Sullivan didn’t make him sound quite so weak.
“Ms. Fahey, I believe that you were questioning the witness when we last heard from him.” Sullivan nodded at Fahey.
She cleared her throat and rose. If she had any qualms about being on camera, Luis couldn’t see them. “Thank you, your Honor. Agent Gomes, let me refresh your memory. When we last spoke, we were talking about what might lead someone to behave the way Mr. Gelens has.”
Luis could see it all—the courtroom, the jury, even the suit he’d been wearing that day. His mouth went dry for a moment. He’d chosen that suit because it was Donovan’s favorite, and now, it was scattered in rags across Norfolk County.
Then he grabbed for the water and locked those thoughts away. “Yes. There’s no one factor you can point to and say, ‘Yes, this will lead to a pattern of sexual sadism and murder for profit twenty years down the road,’ because you’ll always find that a majority of people who’ve had those same experiences—or who share those same biological traits—do not share those behaviors. The only intervention that could have helped would have been something to stop him one of the prior times he was convicted, and again here, Gelens doesn’t fit the classic mode. He doesn’t have a preference for children, but he’ll make use of them for profit or if nothing else is available.”
Luis took a deep breath. “He is driven entirely by his own interests—greed and lust, in that order.”
Morello winced, but he raised his hand. “Objection. Witness is engaging in speculation.”
“Agent Gomes, can you clarify your comment or is that indeed speculation?” Sullivan gave Luis a cool glance.
Luis nodded and pushed himself up a little. “Yes, sir. I don’t have my copy of the report I did after the arrest right here, but I did write one up in detail. I spoke with Mr. Gelens for several hours, and he was very explicit about his motivations. While I might have to extrapolate from behavior in some cases, Mr. Gelens didn’t feel the need to hide.”
Fahey piped in. “Paragraphs twelve and forty-seven, Exhibit Forty-Two.”
“Thank you, Ms. Fahey.”
Luis could have kicked himself. He should have known the exact location of the quote.
“In your expert opinion, both as a law enforcement professional and as a psychologist, do you believe Mr. Gelens is capable of redemption?” Fahey met Luis’ eyes.
Luis had to think for a long moment about how to respond. He saw, or he thought he saw, Mike and Lightfoot standing behind her. “I think anyone is capable of redemption. Whether or not it’s likely is a different story. At this point, Gelens shows no remorse for his crimes, and he is highly likely to reoffend. In his own words, he has no other skills, and he enjoys the work.
“Ted Bundy was a monster, but in the end, he helped us catch a monster. I think if Gelens makes a choice to change, he can probably still do something good with his life—but not on the outside.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Morello cleared his throat and stepped forward as Sullivan glanced at him. “Your witness, Mr. Morello.”
Luis closed his eyes for a second. He could get through this. It was funny though—he never got nervous about testifying when he was in a courtroom.
“Agent Gomes, forgive me. I know you coauthored a study on child pornography, but you yourself stated that you are not an expert on the subject. Can you help us to explain that contradiction?”
Luis didn’t roll his eyes, even though he’d already answered the question in his prior testimony. It felt like a month ago, even though it had only been days. Morello was here to do a job, and the best he could hope for at this point was to let his client see the light of day someday. “Sure. I study criminal psychology and behavior, but I don’t specialize in one specific type of offense. Our child pornography unit will study all aspects of the child pornography business, whereas I’m more of a specialist in the offender themselves—whether it’s the producer, the distributor, the consumer, or an outlier such as Mr. Gelens.”
It wasn’t the answer Morello was looking for, but Luis wasn’t under any obligation to help the defense.
“But you’re not an expert in child pornography, correct?”
Luis let a little smirk cross his lips. “No. I’m not.”
“So what qualifies you to speak as an expert witness about child pornography?”
“Other than the study I coauthored?” Luis shrugged. “My honors thesis from my master’s program, three additional academic publications, and forty-seven case closures with convictions in child pornography cases.”
Morello blinked. “Moving on.” He swallowed. “You said you believe everyone is capable of redemption, but you don’t think Mr. Gelens should be released. Can you help us understand that contradiction, please?”
Luis nodded slowly. “Of course. Some people can learn the difference between right and wrong, even if they didn’t understand it before. Gelens doesn’t fall into this category, simply because he already understands that difference. He doesn’t care. Gelens’ view is different on a fundamental level. He views people as a means to an end, and morality has no place in his decision-making. If he needs money, he’ll make that money in the most profitable way possible for him—whether that involves making snuff films, child porn, or murder for hire. Or all three at the same time. And if he can get sexual satisfaction at the same time, so much the better. He’s not . . .” Luis tried to find a way to explain this that wouldn’t be prejudicial. “It would surprise me on a fundamental level to see him change this aspect of himself. It would take a deep desire to change and a great deal of effort from both Mr. Gelens and from mental health providers within the correctional system.
“And, even then, it’s probably about a fifty-fifty chance of working for five years.”
Morello blinked again. “I thought you said he had a chance for redemption?”
“He does. He can still find ways to give his life meaning from inside prison. That’s why I referenced Ted Bundy in the first place. I don’t think Bundy could ever have been released. But I do think he found a way to give something to society while he was there. He probably had his own interests at heart, but he found a way to make his own interests and the interests of the world coincide. Other offenders acknowledge their crimes and go on to help other offenders inside. It’s hard, but it’s not impossible.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Sullivan did a double take, but he rose. “In that case, court is adjourned. We’ll play this back for the jury. Thanks for your time, Agent. I hope we’ll see you on your feet in short order.”
“I hope so too, Your Honor.” Luis didn’t have to fake his grin this time. “They’ve been good to me here, but I’m eager to get back to my own space.”
“I’ll bet you are.” Sullivan shook Luis’ hand. “I hear congratulations are in order too?”
Luis’ face got hot. “I—yeah. Yes, sir. It turns out we were both waiting for the right time to ask, and with all this, we realized the perfect time was never going to get here. So we’ve got a few details to iron out, but at least now we both know.”
Sull
ivan chuckled. “And knowing is half the battle. I’ll bet you’re not going to wait quite so long this time, right?”
“No, sir. In fact, if you’re not busy . . .”
“I’m pretty sure the other groom should probably be here. But if you should happen to bring him by sometime, I’d be honored.” Sullivan beamed at him, and he and the two attorneys left.
Luis fumbled for his phone. He needed to tell Donovan.
Donovan yawned and shut down his laptop. One of the new uniformed recruits, some kid fresh out of the academy, had said something in front of Power the other day. By the time Donovan heard about it, the quote had become something like, “Must be a pretty sweet gig to make lieutenant and only have to work five hours a day.”
Power ripped into the kid and made sure he got reassigned to the graveyard shift out in the boonies for good measure. Donovan almost felt bad for him.
He knew how it looked, to someone who wasn’t involved with the investigation—or investigations, really. Sure, he was showing up at eight and leaving at two or whatever. He was still setting up shop in Luis’ room at the hospital until eleven or twelve, whenever the nurses decided Luis needed his beauty sleep. Then he went home to do it all over again.
Yeah, it was a grind. But at least he got to see Luis and be part of his recovery, however one wanted to define recovery.
As soon as Donovan walked into the room, he could see that Luis was a wreck. His face had that grayish tone he got when he’d been overdoing it at work, and sweat dampened his hair. He was half-asleep with his tablet in his hand when Donovan eased himself into the room.
Holcombe was there too, silently waiting in the visitors chair. She looked up when she saw Donovan, put a finger to her lips, and glided out into the hall. Donovan followed, although he couldn’t understand what exactly Luis’ boss might want with him.
She closed the door behind them. “I spoke to the doctors. Luis is going to need more surgery.”
Donovan bit back a curse. “How bad?”
“We’ll have to see. But it’s going to be a long time before he can come back to work as a full-time field agent, if ever.” She bit her lip and glanced at the closed door.
“That’s going to kill him. I know we’re engaged, and that’s a lot. I know things are better for him than they were when he was transferred here, but this job is his everything.” Donovan didn’t have to think twice about that. He knew it as well as he knew his own name.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” She slumped against the wall. “And it will hurt our department too. I’ve got a solution, but I have to think of how to present it to him.”
Donovan sucked in his cheeks. He couldn’t think of a single way to present You’re losing your job because you got kidnapped and shot in the leg in a positive light. “Okay. Well, tell me what you’ve got, and we’ll see if we can come up with something.”
“The Bureau is willing to keep him on in a non-field capacity while he pursues his doctorate.” She took a deep breath. “And Harvard is willing to take him on.”
For a second, all Donovan could do was stare. “Wait. What?”
“I know it’s not exactly the career path he had in mind. But he’s got the brains, and this recovery is going to be long and drawn out. It’s going to be miserable if he doesn’t have something to do with himself in the meantime. Why not let him do something productive? And he’d still be part of the Bureau, he’d still be involved.”
Donovan ran his hand through his hair. “It’s . . . I mean I like the idea. Don’t get me wrong.” He glanced back at the door. “I’m sure you had to do a ton of work to ram it through.”
Two red spots appeared in her cheeks. “It wasn’t easy. But we managed.”
“Now all we have to do is convince Luis, right?”
“Thank you for seeing it my way.” Holcombe stood up a little straighter. “Do you want to talk to him about it, or do you want me to go first?”
“Why don’t we try it together?” Donovan shrugged.
Luis woke up when they headed back into the room. Donovan set his laptop up and checked his messages while the trio made small talk. Approaching Luis while he was still groggy wasn’t usually the way to go, unless it was about sex.
After a few minutes, Luis glanced between his two visitors. “All right,” he said, a little smile on his face. “Out with it. You’re dancing around something. What are you trying not to say?”
Donovan glanced at Holcombe and shrugged. They’d known they couldn’t put it off for long.
Holcombe bit her lip. “Luis, how much have your doctors told you about your leg?”
Luis glanced away. “I’ve been trying not to think too much about it. I know I need at least one more surgery, probably this week. There’s nerve damage, and they’re hoping it’s something they can fix. We’re not sure though.” He sighed and looked down. “Is this the part where you thank me for my service and talk about early retirement options?”
“God I hope not.” Holcombe didn’t hesitate. “It did come up, but you’re too valuable to the Bureau for that to be a first option. It, er, it is going to be a long recovery period, and you’re not going to be able to be in the field while you recover.”
Luis moistened his lips. “So they’re sending me back to Quantico?” He glanced at Donovan. “I’m not sure—I mean I love the Bureau but I just got engaged—”
Donovan took Luis’ hand. “I know.”
“And he can’t up and move down to Virginia. Even if there’s a lot less snow down there.”
“That’s not what the Bureau’s asking, Luis. They want you to stay here. Kind of a lot, actually.” Donovan squeezed his fiancé’s hand.
Luis knit his brows together. “I don’t get it.”
Holcombe smiled, just a little. “You met with the gentleman from the Psych Department at Harvard, remember? They’ve agreed to let you pursue your doctorate, based on your publications and your history with the Bureau. You’d continue to work for the Bureau while pursuing your studies, of course.”
“Which is fine, because the Bureau’s picking up the tab. Along with you keeping your job.” Donovan nudged him.
“There’s got to be a catch.” Luis glanced between them both. “What are you not telling me?”
“You just won’t be out in the field chasing people down. If and when you get medical clearance to do so, you can jump right back in.” Holcombe’s smile broadened. “But in the meantime, you’ll be working from the office or from home. We’re still ironing out the day-to-day details. But the Bureau feels strongly that keeping you, and that brain of yours, available to the rest of us is important. We’d like for you to seriously consider it.”
Luis scratched the side of his head. “Things that sound too good to be true usually are.”
Donovan had to laugh. He couldn’t help it. The laughter came bubbling up from his chest like a brook. “This is one of the things I love about you, Luis. Someone comes to you and says, ‘Hey, we want to put you out of harm’s way, but we’re going to double your workload by sending you through a grueling PhD program while still having you work a good part of your regular job,’ and you’re like, ‘Twice the work! There’s got to be a catch here somewhere.’ ” He bent down to kiss Luis. “You’re the best.”
Luis chuckled. “I like my work.” He glanced over at Holcombe. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to feel like I was accusing you of lying or anything.”
“It’s okay, Luis. I know it’s a challenge sometimes. But we’re not going to hang you out to dry. Morales is in for a long rehab too. I’ve got some ideas for assignments to keep you both productive and busy while you recover. And, of course, you’ll be able to take advantage of all those student discounts.” She winked at him.
Just then, Donovan’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and recognized Kate Dunican, one of his second-shift subordinates. “Carey,” he greeted, heading out of the room to take the call.
“Hey, boss.” Dunican sipped from
a drink he assumed was coffee. “I hate to bug you during your time with Agent Gomes, but I knew you’d want to hear about this. We got a hit on your suspect.”
“Would this be the one who shot Fitch and Nguyen or the one who escaped custody a few days ago?” He glanced around. Most of the people he could see were familiar—people he might not know, but nurses and visitors he’d seen before. Still, he couldn’t be too careful.
“Tammie Hatch, sir. She’s got relatives up in Gloucester. Local police up there have stayed alert for anything suspicious around those properties. They spotted a stolen car abandoned in a nature preserve not far from one of those properties today.”
Adrenaline surged through Donovan’s veins. “Stolen cars get ditched all the time.”
“They do, sir. But fresh tire tracks led away from the spot, matching a type used on a car registered to Ms. Hatch’s family members.” She cleared her throat. “They live in a school zone.”
Donovan’s stomach dropped. “All right. Send cars into the area but send them in quiet. If she’s there, we don’t want to alert her. And if she’s not, we don’t want to panic people. I’ll meet up with folks . . .” He wracked his brain to think of some good landmark in Gloucester. “Over by the Fisherman’s Memorial, I guess. Alert the local PD, but warn them not to alert the suspect or to engage.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll inform the feds and have someone come here and keep an eye on Luis.”
“Got it, boss.” Dunican cut out, but she’d never been one to waste time when there was work to be done.
Donovan stepped back into Luis’ room and kissed him again. “I hate to do this, Luis, but I need to take off.” He debated explaining exactly why, but then he stopped himself. Luis was a strong guy, but he’d already been through so much. He didn’t need the additional anxiety of worrying about Tammie Hatch while he was sitting here vulnerable in the hospital. “Agent Holcombe, could I speak to you for a moment?”