Luther never finished what he was about to say. Suddenly the tiny room
seemed about the size of a test tube. He never heard Jack leave. He sat
there and stared straight ahead. For one of the few times in his life,
he had no idea what he should do.
JACK APPROACHED THE MEN STANDING IN THE HALLWAY.
“Who’s in charge?”
Frank looked at him. “Lieutenant Seth Frank.”
“Fine, Lieutenant. Just for the record, my client doesn’t waive his
Miranda rights and you’re not to attempt to talk to him outside of my
presence. Understood?”
Frank folded his arms across his chest. “Okay.”
“Who’s the ACA handling this?”
“Assistant Commonwealth’s Attorney George Gorelick.”
661, m assuming you got an indictment?”
Frank leaned forward. “Grand jury returned a true bill last week.”
Jack put his coat on. “I’m sure they did.”
“You can forget about bail, I guess you know that.”
“Well, from what I’ve heard, I think he might be safer hanging with you
guys. Keep an eye on him for me, will you?”
Jack handed his card to Frank and then walked purposefully down the
hallway. At the parting remark, the smile faded from Frank’s lips. He
looked at the card and then toward the interrogation room and back at
the rapidly disappearing defense counsel.
CHAPTER TWENTY
KATE HAD SHOWERED AND CHANGED. HER DAMP HAIR WAS swept straight back and
hung loosely down to her shoulders.
She wore a thick indigo blue V-neck sweater with white Tshirt
underneath. The faded blue jeans hung loosely around her narrow hips.
Thick wool socks covered her long feet.
Jack watched those feet as they moved up and down, propelling their
lithe owner about the room. She had recovered somewhat from earlier. But
the horror was still lurking in her eyes. She seemed to be battling it
with physical activity.
Jack cradled a glass of soda and sat back in the chair. His shoulders
felt like a two-by-four. As if sensing that, Kate stopped pacing and
started massaging.
“He didn’t tell me they had an indictment.” Kate’s voice was angry.
“You really think cops are above using people to get what they want?” he
shot back.
“I can see you’re getting back into the defense attorney state of mind.”
She really dug into his shoulders; it felt wonderful to him.
Her wet hair dipped into his face as she bore down on the stiffest
points. He closed his eyes. On the radio Billy Joel’s “River of Dreams”
was playing. What was his dream? Jack asked himself. The target seemed
to keep jumping on him, like spots of sunlight you tried to chase down
as a kid.
“How is he?” Kate’s question jarred him back. He swallowed the rest of
his drink.
“Confused. Screwed up. Nervous. All the things I never thought he could
be. They found the rifle, by the way.
Upper-story room of one of those old townhouses across the street.
Whoever fired that bullet, they’re long gone by now.
That’s for sure. Hell I don’t even think the cops care.”
“When’s the arraignment?”
“Day after tomorrow, ten o’clock.” He arched his neck and gripped her
hand. “They’re going for capital murder, Kate.”
She stopped massaging.
“That’s bullshit. Homicide in the commission of a burglary is a class
one felony, murder in the first degree, tops.
Tell the ACA to check the statute.”
“Hey that’s my line isn’t it?” He tried to make her smile, but didn’t
succeed. “The commonwealth’s theory is that he broke into the house and
was in the middle of the burglary when she caught him in the act.
They’re using the evidence of physical violence–strangulation, beating
and two shots to the head–4o sever it from the act of burglary. They
believe that takes it into the realm o ‘ f a vile and depraved act. Plus
they have the disappearance of Sullivan’s jewelry. Murder in the
commission of armed robbery equals capital murder.”
Kate sat down and rubbed her thighs. She wore no makeup and had always
been one of those women who didn’t need to. The strain was telling
though, especially in and under her eyes, in the slope of her shoulders.
“What do you know about Gorelick? He’s going to be trying this sucker.”