Dark Star: Confessions of a Rock Idol (42 page)

Ten minutes later there was a ruckus in the lounge. Pamela ran to see what had happened along with other DeathStroke staffers. That was when they discovered the demolished rock water sculpture, the smashed Les Paul guitar, and me in a rage—getting pinned to the ground by Gray and Ricky.

My head dropped to my chest, and I breathed a sigh of thankfulness for Pamela and her testimony, probably the most helpful in my defense thus far.

But there was little time to relish the victory; Frank Dooley wasted no time getting on his feet to cross-examine.

“Good day, Miss McCracken.” He hustled around his table—all business—and approached the witness. “I’m certain Mr. Boone and Mr. Lester are grateful you’ve come forward to help in their defense.”

Dooley moved with a smoothness and confidence that made me uncomfortable.

“Tell the court if you will, Miss McCracken, which illegal drugs you have used in the past?”

I could practically see the air leave Pamela’s chest as the shock set in on her face.

She stammered but couldn’t speak.

The audience was breathless.

Dooley left her to sink or swim.

“I…” She faced Judge Sprockett. All I could see were his frozen eyes, staring at her from above his thin, clasped hands, which covered most of his solemn face. She turned to Brian, who closed his eyes slowly and nodded as if to say,
Take it easy; take is easy.

“I do not take drugs on a…a regular basis,” Pamela managed.

“But when you
do
imbibe, what do you use?”

The expressions on people’s faces agreed: Dooley was cold-blooded.

This was not good.

“I’ve used marijuana before. And I have
tried
cocaine…”

“Okay, let’s not list them all, instead let me—”

“Sir! If I may,” Pamela interrupted, “there is no
list!
”

“Okay, Miss McCracken. We’ve established the fact that you use drugs. Let’s just move forward.”

Pamela was left speechless.

“Let’s focus in on that day at The Groove, shall we?” Dooley turned to approach the jury. Pamela shifted in her seat, and a tinge of pink seeped into her face.

“The day you say Endora Crystal supposedly hypnotized Everett Lester.” Dooley smiled at the jury. “Let’s talk about the drugs you used on
that
day. What were you using, Miss McCracken?”

“That was a totally unusual day for me!”

“Answer the question, Miss McCracken.”

Again, she looked to the judge then Boone for an escape, but found zero.

“Let me finish,” she insisted. “We were slow that day. I had just wrapped up a whole week of writing press releases and contacting record labels. I was relaxed and didn’t have any big responsibilities. I walked into a conference room where people were smoking a…marijuana cigarette. They asked me to join them.”

Dooley smiled coldly, turned his back on Pamela, and strolled away from her. “Funny isn’t it, how in a court of law it becomes a ‘marijuana cigarette’ instead of a joint?” Some in the audience laughed. Several jurors even snickered.

“You had no big responsibilities that day. So you got high, figuring you didn’t need to be at your best or in top
form.”

There was a brief silence, as Dooley examined the eyes of each juror down the line. “But in the end, it turns out you
did
need to be in top form after all, didn’t you, Miss McCracken? Because here you are, months later, a key witness in the murder case of the decade, possibly of the century.”

Pamela opened her mouth but said nothing. Her eyes darted around the room for guidance, but again, she came up empty.

“Can you tell this court today—before the nation and the world—that you were totally straight and sober when you saw and heard this
supposed
altercation between Endora Crystal and Everett Lester?”

“I told you,” she said, trembling, “I had used a little marijuana that day. It was unusual for me to do that during work hours, but I was by no means unstable or incoherent.”

“Didn’t inhale, is that it?” Dooley smirked.

“Objection,”
Boone yelled from his seat. “Harassing!”

“Sustained,” shot Sprockett.

“All right, Miss McCracken, I wasn’t going to get into this, but you force my hand. You won’t come out and admit that you were stoned that day—”

Boone stood but couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

“You keep saying marijuana use was
unusual
for you. Would it behoove us to call Mr. Charlie LaRoche back to the witness stand to tell this court just how often you
were
involved in drug usage and drug transactions during the DeathStroke heyday?”

Pamela closed her eyes, raised her chin, and took in a deep breath. She then looked at Dooley and blinked repeatedly, holding back tears.

“You know what I think, Miss McCracken? I think you got
very
high that day at The Groove. And since then, I think you have gotten so caught up in the hype of this trial that you
created
this hypnotism story!”

“Your Honor, you can’t allow this!” Boone was finally heard. “Mr. Dooley is badgering the witness with his own cockeyed theories. He’s filling the jurors’ minds with his own words, not Miss McCracken’s.”

“Sustained!”
Sprockett boomed. “Mr. Dooley, you
will
refrain from presenting your own hypothetical ideas.”

Dooley coughed into a fist to cover what may have been a smirk and tweaked each gold cuff link. “Miss McCracken, is it possible that the argument you saw and heard between Endora and Everett was a lover’s quarrel?” Dooley glared at Pamela.

Hushed verbal feedback rolled through the audience. “I don’t think it was. No. I never envisioned Everett and Endora…like that.”

“Never mind what you envisioned, we’ve heard enough about people’s visions at this trial. What I asked is,
is it possible
this was a lover’s quarrel you saw?”

Pamela pursed her lips, shook her head, and threw her hands up. “I guess there’s a very slight chance that’s what it was, but I truly doubt it.”

The black juror who stared at me earlier now focused on Dooley. I hoped and prayed to God we hadn’t lost him.

Today had been a roller coaster.

I was wiped out.

It was 7:44 p.m. I jotted down my memoirs while watching TV during leisure time. There were ten or twelve other inmates surrounding me, munching snacks, reading magazines, and watching the tube.

Brian was due to show up anytime to discuss how we proceeded from here. It appeared we’d called our final witness, unless I testified. In any case, once we called our last witness, then Dooley would give his closing argument, followed by Boone’s. Dooley then had one last shot at a final closing before the jury deliberated.

I’d been praying about whether or not I should testify but couldn’t seem to come to a definitive conclusion. A while back I was certain I should take the stand, but when I saw what Dooley did to Pamela today, I just wasn’t sure. Boone knew what he was doing, and he was still vehemently opposed to having me testify.

The TV screen turned bright red.
“Breaking news.”

A handsome, dark-haired anchorman, graying slightly at the temples and wearing a somber expression, sat upright at the Channel 2 news center in Miami.

“Good evening. The girlfriend of accused murderer Everett Lester is missing tonight…”

I stood.

“Karen Bayliss of Topeka, Kansas, who has been a fixture by Everett Lester’s side throughout the rocker’s sensational murder trial, has been reported missing by the twenty-eight-year-old’s parents, Jacob and Sarah Bayliss, also of Topeka.”

My mind seared white.

“Sources say Miss Bayliss may have been abducted from the premises of a posh home in Bal Harbour, Florida, which is being leased for her and family and friends during the trial by Everett Lester himself.”

“Quiet!”
I ordered from my place beneath the elevated TV.

Their pictures were on the screen—Karen, Jacob, Sarah. Pictures from the trial, from today or yesterday.
That’s her. She can’t be missing. She’s right there!

“The kidnapping comes on the eve of what may well be closing arguments in the case of
The State of Florida v. Everett Timothy Lester
, in which Lester has been accused of murdering LA psychic Madam Endora Crystal.”

Zaney. It’s Zaney!

My head spun around in search of Donald Chambers—not there.

“Miss Bayliss, a graduate of Sterling College in central Kansas, is said to have been instrumental in leading Everett Lester to his newfound religious faith.”

Out of here. I’ve got to get out, now!

Chambers.

“Chambers!”

He ran toward me.

“You’ve seen?” He held my arms.

“Just now.” I looked back up at the evil screen.

“It’s going to be okay, Everett. It’s—”

“You’ve got to get me out, Donald. It’s Zaney.
He has her!”

“I know, Everett. I know.” Chambers practically held me up. “Try to be calm. Boone phoned. He’s almost here. He has more information. Let’s take it a step at a time, brother. Just breathe deep. Breathe deep now, and come with me.”

His arm was around me. He was leading me. He was starting to pray…

I felt flushed and weak as Donald swung open the heavy door. Brian was pacing in what little space there was within the cramped metal-and-glass visitor’s box.

Boone saw my distress. “Sit down, Everett.”

“What’s happening, Brian?” I ignored his command. “It’s Zaney, you know. Do the cops know it’s him? Have you told them?”

“I’m going to talk you through this. Just, please, sit down and let me catch you up on things, okay?” Boone was breathing heavy, trying to keep me calm. “I’m going to tell you all I know.”

“Do it.”

“Your houseguests all left the trial together today: Karen, her parents, Mary, and Jerry.” Boone reviewed some notes he’d scribbled on a white pad. “They headed straight from the Justice and Administration Center back to the house in Bal Harbour. Gray arranged transportation in a rented SUV.”

My fists were clenched, pressing into the engraved metal desk. My body rocked. I had the shivers.

“When they got there, everyone went upstairs to change. They had decided to go out to Bella’s for Italian. Jerry drove everyone in the SUV, and they made it to the restaurant. They knew where it was, because—”

“I took them.”

“Right,” Boone said. “Near the end of the meal, Karen excused herself to go to the restroom…but she never came back.”

I shook my head. “That’s a small restaurant, Boone!” I slammed my fist on the table. “How could he abduct her from there?”

“Well, listen.” Boone urged me to cool down with his hands. “Jacob caught on. He thought he heard a muffled scream. No one else at the table heard it, but he did. So he excused himself, called into the ladies’ room, went in, but Karen wasn’t there. Then he ran outside and saw some kind of a pickup truck with a camper burning its tires out of the driveway.”

“Zaney?”

“Not positive yet, but Jacob got the tag number. It’s from out of state.”

I fell onto the plastic chair. “Thank God.” Then I sat up straight. “Can I get out, Boone? For this? Can you get me a leave or something?”

“Everett, no. I’m sorry. I knew you’d ask. There’s no way. I’ve checked. But I promise you, Jacob and Jerry are all over this; Gray and I are here for you. Mary and Sarah are praying… I know this is going to be tough, but you’ll just have to sit this one out.”

My neck hurt. I was nauseous.

No one to touch me or hold me.

“I’m so sorry, Everett,” came my friend’s voice through the glass.

I rose, touched the metal door, and pressed my hands against the cinder block walls closing in on me.

Trapped.

Karen needs me…and I’m trapped.

33

AGAINST PRISON REGULATIONS, DONALD
arranged for Karen’s father and Jerry Princeton to meet with me in the visitor’s box. It was 9:50 p.m.

Jerry looked pretty good. Cool and steady, as usual.

Jacob, on the other hand, was frazzled—like I felt. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and I noticed creases I’d never seen before. His face had lost much of its color, his hair was disheveled.

They brought new information: A copy of a note from the kidnapper found in the sink of the lady’s restroom at the restaurant. Jerry held it up for me to read as Jacob paced in the background. The handwriting was immediately familiar.

Lester,

If you’re found innocent, you will never see Karen again. Better pray—preacher boy.

Z

“Zaney,” I whispered, falling onto the chair.