If It Walks Like A Killer (The Carolina Killer Files #1) (32 page)

You’ve heard our witness testify, risking her own freedom to tell you how she kidnapped and split up twin babies at birth. A twin would explain why Mrs. Abbott was caught on camera somewhere she couldn’t have logically have been. It would explain why her DNA was found at the crime scene, why she was so willing to be seen on security cameras. A twin answers all of the questions this trial has left unanswered. No one here could possibly know what motive Ms. Moss had in murdering these young women, but we have all seen that she was here. She was with Mr. Abbott at the time of her death. For whatever reason, Ms. Moss found herself involved in Mrs. Abbott’s life, and very possibly in the lives of the women we’ve lost. In my opening statement, I asked you to look at the gray, to believe in the gray. But in this case I think I’ll ask you not to. This one is pretty black and white, if you ask me. What makes sense and what doesn’t? So I ask you only this, instead of believing that my client is capable of the magic acts it would’ve taken to pull off these crimes, look at the logical alternative. Look past what seems like a complex case, look past the gray. Look at what’s reasonable. See the black and white.”

Chapter Sixty-Three

Judge Crafton

“What seems to be the problem?”

“We can’t decide, your honor. We can’t come to a unanimous decision.”

“Why not?”

Doug Potter rubbed his bald head. “She’s the deciding vote. She doesn’t think she did it.” He gestured toward an elderly woman at the end of the table. Her name tag read April.

“April? If you don’t mind me asking, what’s stopping you from deciding?”

“I just don’t think we have enough evidence, your honor,” she said bravely.

“A security tape isn’t enough for you?” Bianca asked.

“She has a twin. We can’t possibly know who was on the tape.”

“The woman’s husband is a dog. When my husband cheated on me I could’ve done the same thing. Trust me, I know what people are capable of in that situation. The girl did it,” Chantelle said.

“The twin had no motive.”

“Then why was she with the husband when she died?”

The room buzzed with arguments. Finally, Doug spoke up above the crowd. “Look, we have DNA, we have the tape, we have motive, and we have opportunity. Why can’t we just convict her and call it a day?”

“This is her life at stake. She has children. I won’t just agree with you so we can all go home. I need to believe I voted for the right reasons.”

“April needs more time. Look over everything again, re-read testimonies, do what you must. I don’t want you to make a decision that you aren’t comfortable with. If you still can’t decide, we’ll call a mistrial and set a new court date. I ask you all to open your minds and make an educated decision. I’d like to see this settled today if possible.” The judge frowned at them all.

April let out a sigh of relief, opening up a manila folder and beginning to read again.

***

Rachael

Rachael was led back into the courtroom. Argus stood up beside her as the jury and then the judge were let back in. They wouldn’t look at her. Not a single one of them. A month ago, it would’ve hurt her. Today, however, she was a stone. She’d listened to everyone telling the jury how she was evil, a heartless murderer. She’s seen Argus’ sideway glances, willing her to trust him, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t trust and she couldn’t hope. Not anymore. Everything she’d ever known was a lie. She just felt alone. Her thoughts had a sunken quality to them, like she was floating underwater or maybe drowning. She stared at her hands. She really needed to cut her nails.

“Chin up,” Argus whispered beside her. She was vaguely aware of a paper traveling from the jury to the judge, of the judge nodding. Argus was holding his breath. How long had he been doing that?

Judge Crafton spoke, she tried to focus on his words. “In the case of The State vs. Rachael Abbott on the charge of first degree murder of Mrs. Audrey Hagen, how do you find the defendant?” the judge asked.

A man near forty, wearing glasses and a button down shirt over his round belly stood up. He pushed his glasses to his nose. “We find the defendant not guilty, your honor.”

Argus heaved a sigh of relief, but Rachael didn’t feel it yet. “And on the charge of first degree murder of Ms. Blaire Underwood, how do you find?”

“Guilty, your honor.”

There was a sigh heard throughout the courtroom. Argus gasped, gripping the table so tightly Rachael was sure it would break. Meanwhile, her head was empty. No thoughts, no feelings. Just meaningless observations. Argus smelled of coffee today. The judge’s robe had a white stain near the collar.

“Thank you. Rachael Abbott, you will be detained in county lockup while you await sentencing. Jury, you are dismissed. Bailiff, take Mrs. Abbott away.” He banged his gavel.

Argus grabbed Rachael’s arm. “Rachael?” She didn’t look at him, she couldn’t. Instead, she backed up, allowing the bailiff to place the handcuffs back on her wrists.

“Come on,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. Somewhere in the distance, Argus was yelling for her. She looked away, embarrassed and angry, as she was led once again through the door to her now certain new home.

Chapter Sixty-Four

Hampton

They say that eighteen hours without sleep is equivalent to a blood alcohol level of equivalent to being legally drunk. Argus Hampton hadn’t slept in nearly five days and he’d never been more wide awake. He’d flipped though his notes, played the coroner’s report from Elise’s autopsy, and talked to Shayna. He’d done it so many times it had grown old. He’d managed to get Shayna’s charges dropped with ease, yet he couldn’t manage to save Rachael. It was destroying him. He couldn’t rest. He couldn’t let his mind lay dormant or his thoughts would destroy him. He missed her. He knew in his heart that he’d allowed an innocent woman to go to jail and he had to fix it somehow. Somehow, he had to save her.

***

Rachael

When you’re in prison, it doesn’t matter if you’re guilty or not because you are. If you ask, no one’s guilty but no one asks. There were women here who were more terrifying than most men, some bigger than men too. Rachael was on a first name basis with every nurse in the place. She’d been stitched up twice already but she knew there’d be more. She got weekly reports on Caide, she knew that he was recovering.
Freaking good for him
. She couldn’t help but feel bitter. Argus hadn’t been to visit her since the trial, not that she blamed him. Everyone was better off without her it seemed. She’d talked to her children once before she was sent to prison, they had seemed happy living with Chad and Sophia, happy for the first time in so long. They deserved that. They had a house on the beach and they were making new friends. Rachael felt as if she were fading from their lives and honestly maybe that was the best thing for them. Maybe it was all for the best. Rachael would never make it out of this prison alive, but she was getting out, and it helped to know her children were safe and loved. Rachael had made up her mind that morning: she wouldn’t spend another night here. She wouldn’t spend another night alive.

Chapter Sixty-Five

Calvin McMillan

Calvin McMillan’s phone rang. Again.
If it’s Hampton, I swear I’ll scream.

“Hello?”

“McMillan, it’s me.”

“Hampton, I’m on my lunch break.”

“Good, so you have time to talk. It’s really important.”

“It was important the last eighteen times you’ve called me, man. Listen, if there was anything I could do for you I would. I’ve examined Ms. Moss’ body over and over. There is nothing pinning her to the crimes. No DNA from the victims, no wounds that couldn’t be attributed back to the car crash. Your best bet is going to be to wait until the husband is able to talk, ask for a retrial, and let him testify.”

Hampton scoffed. “A head wound victim, who’s already slandered his wife will have no credibility in court and you know it. Even if I could get a retrial, it’ll be months, maybe years. There has to be something you missed.”

“No. Hampton, I don’t think there is. I know you want to help your client, and I admit the twin does make things interesting, but she was caught red-handed. You had to know how this would end. I wish I had better news.”

“Yeah, she was caught red-handed all right, they just weren’t her hands.” Hampton cursed under his breath. “Why couldn’t her birthmark be on her arm, rather than her leg?”

“Wait a second, you’re right.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I mean, if you’re right, you could still be wrong. But if you’re right, it wasn’t her hands that committed the crime. They were the twin’s hands. Elise’s hands. You could be right. We may be able to prove it.”

“Okay, I haven’t slept in way too long, so I may not be at my sharpest, but you’ve lost me.”

“They’re identical twins, Hamp. Identical. Everything’s the same: DNA, hair, eyes, and everything.”

“Right.”

“Wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Everything is the same except their birthmarks and their hands.”

“Their hands?”

McMillan tossed his sandwich in the trash and grabbed his lab coat. He rushed out of the break room. “That’s right. More specifically, their fingerprints. Rachael Abbott’s fingerprints weren’t found on the murder weapon for the Underwood murder, right?”

“Right.”

“So, I’ll bet you anything Elise Moss’ are.”

“You’re saying we could prove she’s innocent?”

“If the twin’s fingerprints are the murder weapon then yes.”

“How long will it take?”

“Well, I’ll have to fingerprint the body and run it against all the prints on the murder weapon. Depending on how many prints there were…” he trailed off, trying to think.

“How long?”

“A few hours, maybe? Possibly a day. I’m not promising anything. If we’re wrong, or if she wore gloves, we’re back to square one.”

“Just run the damn prints. I’m going to see the judge.”

***

Judge Crafton

“Hampton, this is the last time I’ll tell you to drop it,” he announced as Hampton made his way into his chambers. “Good God, man, you’re a mess. When is the last time you slept? Or showered for that matter?”

“I don’t remember,” Hampton answered honestly, walking closer to the desk. “There’s something you should know.”

“Hampton.” The judge sighed, taking off his reading glasses. “I didn’t give her the death penalty. I could have, but I didn’t. She’s alive. I don’t know what else you want from me. I’ve got other cases now. I’m sorry it didn’t go how you had hoped but there’s nothing else we need to discuss.”

“No, I know that. I’ve found something else. Something we overlooked before.”

The judge stood up. “Hampton, let it go. The trial is over. I don’t want to hear any more evidence. You’re all out of chances. Just let it go, let the families grieve.”

“What about Rachael? What about her family? Her children are without a mother. What if we were wrong, judge? What if we were really, really wrong and an innocent woman is paying the price?”

“I’m sorry. I know you grew to care for her. I’ve been there, but facts are facts Hampton. You agreed you’d drop it if I granted the continuance, I did. Please just stick to your word and excuse yourself.”

“That was before we found out about her twin. Your honor, you have to know—”

“I said enough,” the judge bellowed. “You need to leave.”

Hampton bowed his head. “Twins don’t share fingerprints,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“I said twins don’t share fingerprints. Rachael’s fingerprints weren’t on Blaire Underwood’s murder weapon. What if Elise Moss’ were?”

The judge sat back down in his chair, twirling his glasses.

“If Ms. Moss’ fingerprints are on the murder weapon it will prove that she, not Rachael, was the one who killed Blaire Underwood, most likely Audrey Hagen too. If I can get you that proof, then will you listen? Will you hear me out?”

“Do you have someone testing your theory now?”

“The medical examiner should be calling me back any minute with the results.”

The judge laughed. “Hampton, you sure are one bullheaded man.”

“So, you’ll listen to me?”

“Have the results sent over. If you can show me that Elise Moss’ fingerprints were on the murder weapon, I’ll send word to the state prison to have Rachael Abbott released.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Hampton turned to walk away.

“Oh, and Hampton?”

“Yes, sir?”

“I’d suggest getting some sleep before you see her. You’re kind of disgusting.”

***

Rachael

Elise. Her name was Elise. My sister’s name was Elise.
Saying it over and over again didn’t help it to feel more real. People talk. Someone told someone who told Rachael that her name was Elise. Her body was being turned over to the state for cremation, since no one had come to claim her. Should she feel bad about that? That no one loved her sister enough to claim her body? That she’d never have a funeral? Maybe. Maybe deep down she did feel bad. Way deep down. On the surface, she felt only hate. Hatred for the woman who had killed the only person who had ever felt like a true sister to her.

Rachael held eight little white pills in her hand. “Don’t take more than two,” Wanda had warned her. She hadn’t said what would happen but Rachael didn’t care. Tonight, she had waited long enough. No more unanswered questions, no more regrets, no more hate, no more pain. Tonight, Rachael Abbott would take these eight pills as she lay down for bed. She’d pray that her children would be taken care of and that someday Argus’ pain would ease. Then she’d drift off to sleep and leave this awful world behind.