Blind Spot (43 page)
Authors: B. A. Shapiro
Suki knew he had every right to be furious, every right to publicize her duplicity to the forensic community. “It came to me suddenly,” she tried to explain. “Just when I was on the stand. I didn’t know what to do, so I followed my heart.”
“It’s not your heart I’m concerned with,” Mike snapped. “It’s your ethics.”
Suki had left the courthouse, both elated and depressed, knowing she had done the right thing, fearing it would have horrible consequences. But the consequences never materialized. Mike switched to Plan B—attacking Edgar’s credibility as a witness to raise the possibility that Richard’s death was an accident—and, in an act of desperation-inspired brilliance, after recalling Edgar, he put Lindsey on the stand and went with “full disclosure”: allowing her to reveal everything, without reserve, to the court.
And it worked. Lindsey’s testimony was emotionally wrenching and powerful; Edgar’s was weak. The combined result was that the jury decided that the commonwealth had not proved criminal intent beyond a reasonable doubt: they were just not convinced Lindsey was capable of calculated murder, nor that that was what Edgar had seen. Whether the jury believed it was an accident or that Isabel Davenport killed Richard Stoddard would never be known, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they had returned after a short deliberation with a full acquittal.
And now, at Lindsey’s request, Suki and Alexa were on their way to escort her out of Watkins. Lindsey was being released—and she wasn’t going to Bridgeriver State. After ten years, Lindsey Kern was going home. And she felt she owed this to Alexa and Suki.
The officer at the front control told them they could either stay in the waiting room or go into the prison and meet Lindsey on her way out. Alexa chose the waiting room. When they sat down, Alexa reached over and took Suki’s hand. Alexa was still very fragile, even after Stan had finally been located and sent a telegram promising to catch the next plane “back to the States.” Suki guessed he’d return with a New Zealand accent. She squeezed Alexa’s fingers and they waited for Lindsey, hand in hand, in the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
Lindsey burst through the metal detector, along with her mother and brother. She was beaming. She was free. She hugged both Suki and Alexa. Her brother Joel retrieved the bottle of champagne he had left with the officer and popped the cork. They toasted Lindsey and freedom and Mike and Suki and Alexa with the paper cups Lindsey’s mother dug up in the bathroom. Joel had forgotten to bring glasses. Suki wished Mike could have been here, but he was in court. They had had a long talk and worked it all out, and he had forgiven her, but warned her to never, ever, ever do anything like that to him again. She had promised she never would.
“I’m out of here!” Lindsey shouted, waving the empty champagne bottle in the air. The waiting room erupted in a loud cheer as Lindsey marched out the front door with her family close behind. They were immediately swallowed by a school of reporters waiting in the parking lot.
Suki squinted as she and Alexa walked into the sunshine. Watching Lindsey happily talking to the press, Suki realized she still didn’t understand what had happened. Not what, not why and definitely not how. But she knew she had been changed by it. She didn’t feel like some touchy-feely airhead, and she wasn’t going to go out and try to relive her past lives or reach the astral plane, but on the other hand, she wasn’t as sure as she had been that these were impossible endeavors.
“
Things don’t always make sense the way you think of sense
,” Lindsey had once told her. And Suki knew it was the truth.
“Hey,” someone called. “It’s the shrink!”
Suki was horrified to see a wave of reporters peel off from the huddle surrounding Lindsey and head toward them. Reflexively, she pushed Alexa behind her.
A young woman in a slinky pink dress reached Suki first, a photographer right behind her. The woman waved an open copy of the
Herald:
PSYCHIC SHRINK’S TESTIMONY FREES CONVICTED MURDERER
, screamed the huge headline. “So you’re the psychic shrink?” She shoved a microphone in Suki’s face.
“I guess I’m the person the paper’s referring to,” Suki began. “Although I wouldn’t say that I’m—”
“But you have a Ph.D.,” the reporter interrupted. “You’re a licensed psychologist. And you believe in ghosts.”
Suki looked around for someone to help her, but there was only Alexa, and the girl just gave her a small smile and shrugged. “I am a licensed psychologist,” Suki said slowly. “But I think I’d have to say that the ghost thing is an open question.”
“Will you be taking on more cases like this, Dr. Jacobs?” Another microphone appeared before her. “What’s next on your agenda?”
“What about the guy who claims he was abducted by aliens and they forced him to shoot his brother?” someone else clamored. “Will you vouch for him?”
“How about the reincarnation lady?”
Suki grabbed Alexa and headed for the car. “No comment,” she called over her shoulder. But she figured she better come up with a comment shortly. She had the feeling this wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to the usual suspects: Diane Bonavist, Jan Brogan, Floyd Kemske, Donna Baier Stein and Nancy Yost. Thanks to the family: Robin, Scott and Dan Fleishman. Thanks to the experts: Michael Bogdanow, Steve Corr, Bernie Fleishman, George Foote, Ronnie Fuchs, Gary Goshgarian, Gail Grodzinsky, Phyllis Kaplan-Silverman, Leslie Metge, and my anonymous, generous forensic psychologist. Thanks to my readers: Margie Bogdanow, Deborah Crombie, Tamar Hosansky, Pat Sparling, Vicki Steifel and Kelly Tate. And thanks to the editors: Carolyn Marino and Robin Stamm.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1998 by B.A. Shapiro
978-1-4804-8166-4
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
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