Blood Silence (8 page)

Lyman looked over to his partner and right hand, Summer Plantagenate. “We’ll need to get access to both Meredith and Sterling’s files at the law firm, both active files and closed.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Besides his affair with Gentry, what was the nature of your husband’s relationship with her?”

“She was a client. A fairly new client. I think she hired us six or seven months ago.”

“To do what?”

“I don’t really know. My husband typically handled high-profile litigation, but as far as I know, there was no lawsuit filed on her behalf. There were lots of meetings both here and out of town. She paid serious legal fees, almost three million dollars worth, but I don’t really know for what.”

“You and your husband didn’t talk about that?”

Meredith shook her head. “He and I didn’t talk about much of anything lately.”

“We’ll look into Gentry, who she is, what her business is, and all of that,” Plantagenate reported, jotting down notes. “That will be part of our request for access at the law firm.”

“The other thing we need to think about is if Meredith was set up, and it relates to something her husband and this Gentry were up to, then someone else knew about the affair and used that.”

“They used it to frame Meredith?”

Lyman nodded. “Used Meredith to hide the reason for the murder. I have some additional thoughts on that issue we’ll get to in a bit. But first, Meredith, big issue here: tell me about the Smith & Wesson 9mm and how your prints could have gotten on it?”

“We had someone try to break into our house in Minneapolis about a year ago. So Frederick decided we should have some home protection. We bought a gun for our Minneapolis house and one for out at the lake. We took gun safety classes, and we learned how to shoot them. We went to the gun range a few times. I think the gun I shot ended up out at the lake house. I haven’t touched it in months.”

“And where was it stored?”

“In the nightstand in the master bedroom,” Meredith replied. “It was loaded and ready, just in case. It was Frederick’s brilliant idea.”

“Well, it’s a problem we’ll have to deal with somehow,” Lyman answered. “It’s not a hard scenario for the prosecutor to paint. Angry spouse catches husband in bed with another woman in her own house. She goes and gets the gun …”

“I get it,” Meredith replied with a dismissive wave. “I get the story. I’ve already replayed it a hundred times in my head. It’s just not what happened.”

“At the lake house, is there a security system?” Lyman asked.

“There is.”

“So your husband must have turned it off but didn’t reset it. We’ll check with the security company. Does the door chime when it opens?”

Meredith shook her head. “No. That feature wasn’t activated.”

“That cuts both ways, I suppose. A killer would have gotten in without being noticed because there is no chime. Of course, you could have gotten in without notice because …”

“Because I know that there is no chime,” Meredith answered. “Of course, Frederick might not have locked the door, either.”

“That’s possible,” Lyman answered.

“Lyman, can I ask a question that’s been bothering me?” Meredith asked.

“Shoot.”

“I’m no criminal lawyer, but I was arrested awfully fast. Did they even look at any other possibility?”

“I don’t think they did,” Lyman replied, shaking his head. “And I think that’s one place where we can start chipping away at this thing. They didn’t look at other possible killers. It was pretty easy to focus on you. You were the low-hanging fruit, and you look very good for it—motive, prints on the gun, seen leaving the scene. Right now, it looks open and shut. To start deconstructing that narrative, we need to find someone else plausible for a jury to focus on.”

“You’re talking reasonable doubt?” Meredith asked.

Lyman nodded.

“Reasonable doubt isn’t good enough,” Meredith pleaded. “Reasonable doubt destroys my reputation, my career, my life. I’ll be the person who got away with it. Except I didn’t do anything I have to get away with.”

“That beats prison, Meredith,” Edmund counseled.

“That it does,” Lyman added and folded one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. “Listen, Meredith, this case is almost”—he struggled for the word—“too perfect. I mean, it is so obvious you did it that I don’t buy it.”

“So you believe me?”

“Let’s say for now, despite the evidence, I’m choosing to. Listen, first we walk, then we run. I used the term chipping away for a reason. We create reasonable doubt, and we win. That’s priority number one. Now, if we can actually prove who killed your husband, then you’ll be completely exonerated.” He stood up and walked to the window and looked out over the Mississippi River to the south, deep in thought. “This gets to one thing I was thinking earlier.”

“Which was what?” Ann Hilary asked.

“To find someone else to point the finger at besides Meredith here, we’re going to need a top-flight investigator. We need someone who can pick apart the Hennepin County sheriff’s investigation. Someone who is good, who will look good on the witness stand if need be, someone with the skill that would make the Hennepin County attorney stand up and take notice.”

“Like who?” Meredith asked.

“I usually use John Biggs, but since you used him to investigate your spouse, and that’s going to be a big part of your case and theirs, I don’t know that we can use him here, which is unfortunate. He’s really quite good. We’ll have to find someone else.”

They spent fifteen minutes discussing options, and nobody really struck them as right. “I’ll have to give it some more thought,” Lyman muttered. “But we’ll need to find someone soon.”

“I have a somewhat out-of-the-box idea,” Ann Hilary suggested. “I know someone who is not working right now, who is in town, and is really good—better than anyone you could possibly find.”

Meredith looked at her mother. “Who? Who do
you
know?”

“Think about it.”

She read the mischievous look on her mother’s face and saw the twinkle in her eyes. “Mom, no.”

• • •

They’d both digested the Sunday morning papers with particular interest in the coverage of the Sterling murder. A reporter had an anonymous source inside the investigation and provided a fair amount of detail on the case against Meredith.

“She’s in a world of hurt,” Mac muttered, staring at his laptop screen, “although it’s still a pretty quick arrest.”

“It’s going to be a show trial,” Sally suggested, folding her paper. “At least Lyman will love it.”

“That will be months from now,” Mac answered. “I’ll want to make sure I’m not around.”

“Would it be tough for you? Would it be hard for you to watch?”

Mac sat back, stirring his coffee. Sally was asking an important question for him, and he supposed, for her as well. What kinds of feelings did he really still have for his ex-wife now that she was in serious trouble? “I honestly don’t know, but I don’t really want to find out, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, you don’t want to see her suffer,” Sally answered reasonably, but she wanted to hear more.

“Suffer like this?” Mac shook his head. “No, even I’m not that vindictive. However, I do appreciate the fact that Sterling ran around on her. I told her that would happen. It was entirely predictable.”

“Karma?”

“Karma is one angry bitch,” Mac replied. “But Sally, this?” He shook his head slowly and sighed, looking away. “I don’t want Meredith to spend the rest of her life in prison. I was bitter, but I wasn’t
that
bitter, especially the way things have worked out,” he answered, reaching for Sally’s left hand and running his thumb lightly over her engagement ring and the large diamond.

Sally smiled, now reassured. She leaned in, and he kissed her.

“She won’t get life, Mac. Lyman won’t let that happen,” Sally suggested, relaxed back in her chair now but still letting Mac hold her hand. “Lyman will take good care of her.”

“Yeah, but no matter what, her life will end up ruined.”

“Mac,” Sally replied, getting up from the table, “she has only herself to blame for that.”

Mac finished loading the dishwasher with their breakfast dishes and pans and put away the other food, drinks and condiments. They had to be at the airport at 4:00
P.M.
for the flight back to Washington. That left the late morning and early afternoon for them to relax. Sally planned on doing some work. As for Mac, the Vikings were kicking off at noon against the Lions, and he planned on parking his butt on the sofa and taking it in.

The doorbell rang, and Sally yelled, “I’ll get it.”

Mac set the dishwasher to start its wash cycle. He turned around and sipped his coffee while watching the FOX football pre-game show.

“Mac, there’s someone here to see you,” Sally called from the front of the house.

He picked up his coffee cup, took a quick sip, and walked into the living room and stopped in shock. Standing in his foyer was Lyman Hisle along with Ann and Edmund Hilary.

“Mac, can we talk for a bit?” Ann asked.

Lyman and the Hilarys explained what they wanted.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Mac said, dumbfounded, looking to an equally stunned Sally, who was sitting next to him on the couch. “I’m not a private investigator. I don’t even live here. Hell, I live in Washington. My life is in Washington, not here. I’m sorry. I have to pass.”

“Look, Mac, I know this is a lot to ask…” Edmund started.

“You’re damn right it is, Ed. I have spent four years putting everything behind me. I’ve moved on, I’m happy, I have a great life. I’m sorry about Meredith, I really am. I hate seeing this happen to her, but what you’re asking …”

“We’re not asking you to give that up, Mac. We would never do that. But …” Ann’s lip trembled. “Our daughter’s life … we’ve always loved you, Mac. What Meredith did to you was wrong, and I know what it did to you.” Ann looked at Sally. “I’m so happy Mac found you. We’re so happy for you both. I wouldn’t dare intrude on that, but …” Ann’s eyes watered, and she looked down. “But Meredith needs help. Mac, she needs your help. You’re so good at this.”

“Look, Ann, I appreciate how hard it must be for you to come here, but …” Mac started when Sally grabbed his hand and turned toward him.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Sally asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

“O… kay,” Mac answered, a little surprised, not sure what Sally had in mind. He looked at Lyman and the Hilarys. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Sally led him to the three-season porch in the back of the house and closed the sliding door.

“I’m sorry about this, Sally. I had no idea that they’d …”

“I’m not mad,” Sally answered quietly. “I’m not mad at all. In fact, you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you should consider doing this.”

For the second time in the last fifteen minutes, he was completely gobsmacked. “You … you… you want me to investigate this? You want me to help? You want me to help my … my ex-wife?” He looked around the room for a camera. “Am I being Punk’d here?”

“You said it yourself, Mac. You didn’t want to see her spend the rest of her life in jail.”

“Yeah, but that was before …”

“Before what?” Sally replied. “Before two people who clearly still care for you showed up in your living room? Those are two very proud people asking for your help,
begging
for your help. I mean, Ann Hilary is a complete wreck. I can’t imagine they’ve ever begged for anything in their lives.”

“Well … yeah, but I have you and …”

“I’m not worried about us,” Sally answered, shaking her head dismissively. “I’m not worried about Meredith. This isn’t about me, or even you and me.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s about
you
.”

“Me?”

“Let me ask you a question.” Sally folded her arms and looked him in the eye. “Could you live with yourself—could you really, honestly live with yourself, knowing you didn’t help her when you could have and she ends up spending the rest of her life in prison?” Sally slowly shook her head. “I know you, and I don’t think you could. I think you’d regret it for the rest of your life. I think it would sit and eat at you. You would end up carrying this guilt, and you’d always be asking yourself, what if? Don’t do that to yourself.”

Mac walked back into the living room and looked at Lyman. “How bad is it?”

“Pretty bad,” Lyman replied and gave Mac a quick rundown. “Despite all of that, she says she’s innocent. She’s claiming she was set up.”

“And you believe her?” Mac asked, not caring that Edmund and Ann were sitting there. Hard questions needed to be asked. Might as well start now. “And Lyman, no bullshit lawyer answers here. I’m not about helping someone who is guilty. I’m about saving the freedom of somebody who is innocent. So I’m asking: Is she innocent?”

“Despite the evidence, I think she is,” Lyman answered, and then a little smile snuck out. “Don’t you think that was a quick arrest?”

“Especially without a confession,” Mac replied, nodding.

“Exactly.” Lyman pointed at Mac. “Exactly right, my boy. I think we have a rush to judgment.”

“Meredith is just not this dumb,” Mac added, shaking his head.

“No, no she is not. This whole thing is wrapped up all nice and neat with a big, red bow. In my experience, nothing is ever
that
neat. I guess the question is, kiddo, are you going to help me prove that?”

“Yeah.” Mac nodded. “I think I am.”

M
ac walked into the spacious lobby of the Wells Fargo tower in downtown St. Paul. There was scant activity in the lobby as Mac checked in with the guard at the security desk and was directed to the elevator bank for the seventeenth floor. In his hand he carried a leather folder with a notepad. On his shoulder he hauled a backpack with, among other things, his laptop inside.

As he came off the elevator, he walked into the lobby for the law firm of Hisle and Brown. Lyman and his firm had done well over the years, as evidenced by the opulent lobby with a marble water fountain, fine furnishings, and an eighty-inch big screen framed on the wall. Straight ahead through the lobby was a large and expansive conference room, where he saw Lyman sitting with his partner, Summer Plantagenate, and the Hilarys, not to mention Teddy Archer. The whole family was here.