Heart of the Night (54 page)

Megan didn't see how she could get around that one, so she said with as much dignity as she could, “Yes, that's true.”

“Were you aware of the insurance policy your husband had taken out to cover ransom demands in a kidnapping?”

“Yes. He told me about it soon after we were married.”

“Since you worked with the books, you knew that three million dollars would be a comfortable boost for the business, did you not?”

“No.”

“No?” He drew his head back, as though mildly stung. “Three million is a lot of money. Didn't it cross your mind that it could come in handy?”

“I'm not a businesswoman. I have no idea how much money the business needs to put it back on its feet.”

“Wouldn't you have
guessed
that three million might do it?”

“I never thought about it.”

“Think about it now. Doesn't three million sound tempting—”

“Objection,” Savannah called. “The question is irrelevant.”

“Sustained,” the judge said.

Woodward went smoothly on. “Had you ever heard of Matty Stavanovich before that January day when you brought your car into his shop?”

“Yes.”

“In what context?”

“He'd worked on the cars of several of my friends.”

“Had you ever heard of him in any other context?”

“Yes.”

“And what context was that?”

“There were articles in the paper linking him to burglaries that have been committed in different areas of the state.”

Woodward gave a solemn nod. “Did you think he was a thief?”

“He was never brought to trial.”

“But did you think he might be guilty?”

“If I had, I wouldn't have brought my car to him.”

Turning his back on the witness stand, Woodward walked leisurely toward where Stavanovich sat at the defense table. Just shy of it, he pivoted to face her again, raising his voice to cover the added distance. “Is it not true, Mrs. Vandermeer, that, knowing the stories that had been widely circulated about the defendant, you figured he'd be a perfect patsy?”

“No,” Megan said.

“After you left your car with him that first time, didn't the wheels in your mind start turning? Didn't it occur to you that Stavanovich might be just the guy you needed?”

Megan stared at him with a look of disgust on her face.

“Did it not occur to you, Mrs. Vandermeer, that your own tracks would be covered if you let a suspected crook take the fall?”

“No.”

“Didn't the convenience of it strike you? You could pass money and messages back and forth simply by bringing your car in for servicing. Didn't that cross your mind?”

“No.”

Woodward paused, straightened, put one hand in his trouser pocket and came slowly closer. “Refresh our memory, Mrs. Vandermeer. How long have you been married?”

“Six years.”

“Six years. And how old are you now?”

“Thirty-one.”

“That would have made you twenty-five when you were married?”

“That's right,” Megan said. She felt a sense of foreboding in the pit of her stomach. Savannah had warned her what to expect; still, it was hard.

“Very few women nowadays reach the age of twenty-five without having taken a lover or two. Or three or four or more. Was that the case with you?”

“Objection!” Savannah called. “The question is irrelevant.”

“Not so,” Woodward told the judge. “I'm trying to determine something about the character of this witness.”

“Her sexual history has nothing to do with this case,” Savannah argued, though she was neither surprised nor worried when the judge simply told Woodward to rephrase his question.

“Was William Vandermeer your first lover?”

“No.”

“Then you had had others.”

“One.”

Blatantly skeptical, Woodward stared at her. “Only one lover up to the age of twenty-five?”

“That's right,” Megan said. She was never more grateful for Savannah's coaching than at that minute. Without it, she'd have been totally unsure of what to say. With it, she spoke in a quiet, confident voice. “We were together for three years during college. He went home to graduate school in San Francisco. I stayed east.”

Woodward mulled that over. “Have you been faithful to your husband?”

“Yes.”

“You haven't taken any lovers since you've been married?”

“No. I love my husband.”

“I'm not talking about love. I'm talking about sex. Have you ever taken a lover?”

“No.”

“Have you ever wanted to take a lover?”

“No.”

“Your eye hasn't ever wandered, even the slightest bit?”

“No.”

He let the space of several breaths pass undisturbed, then scratched the side of his head and said, “Frankly, I find that hard to believe. You're an attractive woman. You run in circles that allow for a certain amount of freedom—”

“Objection!”

“Sustained.”

“You see free sex all around you—”

“Objection!”

“Sustained.”

“—and you've never been tempted?”

“No,” Megan said.

“Not by some of the brawny young men Matty employs?”

“No.”

“Not even when you wanted Matty Stavanovich to do your bidding?”

“No!”

“Look at him, Mrs. Vandermeer.” Woodward turned toward his client. “Do you think he's an attractive man?”

Matty was wearing a crisp white shirt, a striped tie, navy blazer, and gray slacks. As he'd been doing since the start of the trial, he was sitting straight in his chair, looking appropriately concerned.

Megan's lip curled. “No.”

“Not even the tiniest bit?”

“No!”

Woodward shrugged. “I suppose you wouldn't have to find him attractive. If you wanted something from him badly enough—”

“Ob
jec
tion!”

“Sustained.”

“No further questions, your honor.”

*   *   *

Matty Stavanovich was the sole defense witness. Guided through his story by Woodward's questions, he claimed that Megan Vandermeer had approached him about the kidnapping during her second visit to the shop. She had it all planned out, he said, from the ransom note, which she made herself, to the point of entry into her home, to the day and time of both the staged abduction and the exchange of the money. Under the plan, Matty was to hold the three million until she contacted him, at which point she would bring her car in for servicing, and her share would be placed in its trunk. He claimed he'd done that, and that his share, $250,000, had been deposited in small amounts in banks in each of six states strewn around the country.

As for the rape, Matty claimed that his accomplice had been the one to use force. He had, himself, never once manhandled Megan. He admitted that he'd had intercourse with her, but swore that it had been a pleasurable experience for them both.

Savannah began her cross-examination that afternoon. Her major objective was to prove Stavanovich a liar. To that end, she produced his past criminal record and questioned him on it at length. Then she asked him about each of the burglaries that had taken place in the state since he had arrived. Though Woodward vigorously objected to each reference and the judge sustained each one, Savannah made her point.

She questioned Matty about the alibi he'd originally given the police. “It was intricately thought out. You had airline tickets, hotel and tour receipts, even photographs. Not that I'd have expected less from a man who has successfully pulled off so many burglaries—”

“Objection,” Woodward called.

“Sustained.”

“You're a clever man, Mr. Stavanovich. You pride yourself on the brilliance of your thefts—”

“Objection!”

Savannah walked back to the prosecutor's table to lift up a file folder. “I'm quoting from the report of the court psychiatrist who evaluated the defendant before his 1981 conviction in California. Shall I enter this into evidence?”

“Not necessary, Ms. Smith. The objection is overruled. Continue.”

Savannah dropped the folder on the table and returned to Matty. “Is it fair to say, Mr. Stavanovich, that you are a careful man?”

Matty considered that for a minute. “Yes. I'd say that.”

“Is it, therefore, fair to say that you would never have agreed to collaborate with Mrs. Vandermeer unless you felt that her plan was sound?”

Matty tipped up his head a fraction. “Yes.”

“Yet you took elaborate steps to create an alibi. Was that to cover the burglary you staged in Cranston the night after the kidnapping?”

“Objection!”

“Sustained.”

“Why,” Savannah went on undaunted, “was it necessary for you to concoct such an elaborate alibi if the plan you'd worked out with Mrs. Vandermeer was so sound?”

“Because women can be flighty,” Matty answered without pause. “I wanted to cover myself just in case.”

“You wanted to cover yourself. Yourself. What about her? What was her alibi?”

“I don't know. That was her problem.”

“You didn't check it out? A brilliant thief like you didn't check it out? Or,” she said more loudly, “were you only concerned with yourself because Mrs. Vandermeer was, in fact, nothing more than a victim? Isn't this simply one long cock-and-bull story you've come up with to save your hide?”

“No, it is not.”

“You're a very clever man, Mr. Stavanovich. A master. Not many people could come up with a story like yours, particularly after the supposed mastermind of the scheme winds up brutally raped. Was that in the original plan?”

“I've already said that my accomplice was the violent one.”

“Your accomplice. Where is this accomplice?”

“I don't know.”

“You didn't want him to verify your story?”

“He would have done that.”

“But you couldn't find him.”

“That's right.”

“Because he knew he was in big trouble well beyond the rape—”

“Objection.”

Savannah moved on. “Strange, this accomplice business. You always work alone, Mr. Stavanovich. If, as you claim, Mrs. Vandermeer was willing, why did you need an accomplice?”

“It was simply a convenience—”

“For when Mrs. Vandermeer was tied hand and foot to the bed,” Savannah finished with a look of distaste for the jury to see. “But I do agree with you. A kidnapping takes two men—”

“Objection,” Woodward called. “The prosecutor's opinion has no place in the cross-examination of this witness.”

The judge agreed. “Sustained,” he said.

Savannah moved on. She went through every inch of his story, questioning it, throwing doubt where she could. By the time she'd finished with him on Thursday morning, she was repulsed by his smugness and offended by his arrogance. She could only hope that the jury was as turned off as she.

After Matty's appearance on the stand, the defense rested its case. Woodward delivered his closing argument shortly after lunch. It was relatively brief as closing arguments went and involved a simple recapping of the facts as Woodward saw them. His client, he concluded, had spoken in his own defense and, as sworn, was guilty neither of kidnapping nor of rape. Clearly, he claimed, the state had failed to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt.

Savannah spoke for two hours, delivering one of the most impassioned arguments of her career. When she was done, the judge briefly charged the jury, then sent them off to deliberate.

The hours of deliberation were always difficult for the parties involved. For Savannah, this time, it was pure hell.

C
HAPTER
22

The jury deliberated until shortly after ten. During that time, Savannah remained in her office. Jared was with her. Her assistants wandered in and out, as did Anthony Alt, whose ascerbic comments only added to the stress. Paul called from time to time. Megan was at home with Will.

When it became clear that there would be no decision that night, Savannah and Jared left for his house. Neither of them said much during the drive, and when they arrived, they went upstairs to the living room and took possession of separate chairs.

Slipping out of her shoes, Savannah folded her legs in front of her and pressed her face to her knees. After several minutes, she looked up to find Jared's watchful eyes on her. Her own were tormented.

“Have I made a mistake?” she whispered.

Jared didn't answer at first. He was going through a torment of his own, wondering just how honest he should be. The seeds of doubt that had plagued him since the defense first aired its claims had grown until he was sure that Megan had been the one calling him for emotional support in the heart of the night. He hadn't been positive until the start of her testimony, when he'd easily recognized the voice. He added to that the fact that she could have gotten his private number when Savannah had called him from Marco Island. And the fact that she'd been skittish when, at the end of that day in court, they'd finally been introduced. And the fact that he hadn't received a call since the start of the trial.

It all fit together like a puzzle, and it gave him the uneasy feeling that Megan did have something to hide.

More than once, he'd opened his mouth to tell Savannah. But she'd been embroiled in the trying of her case, and, for what it was worth, the case was strong. Moreover, Megan staunchly proclaimed her innocence. Now that the work was done, though, and the immediate tension of performance had passed, Savannah looked as torn as he felt.

He had to know what she was thinking when she wondered whether she'd made a mistake. “In what sense, babe?” he returned softly.

“Is she innocent?”

“Do you have doubts?”