Matter of Trust (63 page)

‘Maybe. After all, there's something inherently evil about someone who . . .' David paused, the seed of an idea coming to him. ‘Cusack is his father's son,' he said, not so much a statement but an explanation.

Sean frowned. ‘That was my point . . . DC?'

But David's mind was elsewhere, as in that moment, after all of these years, he realised just how much he needed his big brother, after all.

Monday

T
he courtroom was standing room only, the majority of the gallery squashed tight into the long narrow benches shoved so close together that the taller members were sitting at odd angles so as not to knock their knees against the back of the bench in front.

David watched as the courtroom clock jerked that fraction closer to nine. His eyes flicked from the clock to his own watch, which confirmed exactly what the clock had told him – that Jack Delgado was late.

‘Mrs Delgado,' he said, turning in his seat to speak to a nervous-faced Vicki Delgado who was sitting between Mike and Rebecca Kincaid behind him. ‘I'm sorry, but can you think of any reason why Jack might be held up?'

Jack Delgado's presence at this point was crucial. While David was counting on three elements – Jack Delgado's testimony, Connor Kincaid's testimony, and the ‘long shot' idea Sean had given him yesterday to secure a statewide and beyond search for the criminal named Will Cusack, he also knew the order of these three elements was key. He had to lead with Delgado – as he knew the jury would be much more willing to believe Jack than they would the defendant's own son. Playing it the other way around
would look as if Jack was simply repeating Connor's testimony – which would give Marshall more ammunition to shoot the real truth down.

Vicki Delgado shook her head nervously. ‘No . . . as I explained earlier, I wanted him to come with me, but he insisted on coming with Connor.'

Connor was not in the courtroom this morning either – but this was at David's request. David didn't want the jury to see one boy in the room while the other was giving testimony, just in case Marshall pushed the idea of conspiracy.

Rebecca took Vicki's hand. ‘I encouraged Connor and Jack to come together – I said Jack could drive my car. The boys give each other strength.'

‘But you're sure Jack knew he had to be here by nine?' asked David, turning his attention back to Vicki Delgado.

‘Absolutely,' she answered, taking a short sharp breath before shuddering on the exhale. ‘David – do you think he's okay? I mean, Jack is usually so punctual. He's a good kid and . . .'

‘He'll be here any minute, Vicki,' chimed in Mike, his tone less than convincing. ‘I'm sure of it.'

But David wasn't. In fact this whole situation was starting to . . .

Bang
! The jolt of the side door startled him as it opened wide and slammed into the back of another chair which had been added to the rest of the extras allocated to the burgeoning media contingent. Two corrections officers led Chris Kincaid into the courtroom, steering him toward the defence table and David and Sara.

‘It's 8.57,' whispered Sara before Chris reached them. ‘The jury will be brought in at any moment.'

‘I know,' replied David, before turning to look for McNally, who he'd spotted standing in the far right-hand corner of the room. McNally shrugged, indicating he had no answer for Jack Delgado's tardiness. David knew his detective friend would be furious at himself for not giving Delgado a police escort, and David was starting to think he should have been the one to insist he and Sara pick up Jack Delgado on their way to court.

‘There is nothing else we can do,' he said to Sara now. ‘Nora's out front, and Arthur is waiting in the hall. The minute they spot the two boys they'll come in and tell us. Until then, we have to find some way to stall this thing.' David stopped as Chris took a seat between them, smiling at Sara and shaking David's hand.

‘Are we ready to—' Chris began.

‘All rise,' said the bailiff announcing the arrival of the judge – and David glanced right toward a smug-faced Marshall, who lifted his head and smiled. And then David turned one last time in the hope Arthur might be coming through the back door to announce their first witness's arrival – but the doorway was all too empty, and he sensed that finally, they had run out of time.

‘Good morning,' said Judge Jones, the weekend obviously having calmed his demeanour somewhat. ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I trust you had a restful weekend – and I want to thank you for being with us once again this morning.'

The jury smiled.

‘Good morning, Mr Marshall,' Jones looked to Marshall. ‘Mr Cavanaugh,' he turned his attention toward David. ‘I trust you are ready to proceed.'

Just then Arthur entered the back of the room, moving quickly up the aisle to hand a seriously relieved David a note before retreating from the room once again.

‘If it pleases the court, Your Honour,' said David, asking for a moment to read the note and praying Jack Delgado was now waiting out in the hall with David's mentor.

‘Nora's spotted Rebecca's car,' he whispered to Chris and Sara. ‘It went into the car park.'

‘Jack Delgado isn't here yet?' asked Chris, his voice tinged with panic.

Sara smiled. ‘It's okay, Chris. Jack is coming with Connor. He'll be up here any minute.'

Chris nodded.

‘We still have to fill a few minutes,' said David. ‘And I'm not sure how we do that given—'

‘Your Honour,' said Sara before David could finish. She rose determinedly to her feet.

‘Ms Davis,' replied Jones.

‘Before we begin, I wanted to express our gratitude.'

The judge looked at her over his glasses – a look of surprise on his wide shiny face. ‘And I'd be happy to accept it, Ms Davis, if I knew what it was for.'

The room managed a chuckle. ‘It's the water, Judge.'

‘The water?'

‘In these pitchers,' she said, gesturing at the pitcher on their desk. ‘The one on our desk and Mr Marshall's desk and the pitcher over there made available to the jury.' She pointed across the room.

‘Is there something special about this water, Ms Davis?'

‘No, Your Honour,' smiled Sara, and David noticed the entire room smiling with her. ‘I just felt that, given we are guests in your courtroom, I should comment on it. You see it is not something the Superior Court in Massachusetts provides – ice water, that is – even in the middle of summer. It's a small thing but given your hospitality during this trial, I just wanted to say thank you – on behalf of my co-counsel and our client.'

Jones's eyes widened. ‘You want to thank me for the water?'

‘Yes, Your Honour.' Sara glanced at the clock, just as one of the jury members lifted her hand to a clerk and requested a glass of water. This was followed by a second request and then a third.

‘Well,' said Jones, obviously not sure how to respond. ‘These trials are long and . . .' he poured himself a glass of water. ‘I appreciate your expression of gratitude.'

‘My pleasure, Judge,' said Sara, before finally re-taking her seat.

David heard the whoosh of the heavy door at the back of the courtroom swinging open once again. He breathed a sigh, before craning his neck to look for Arthur who he knew would join them at the defence table before David called his first witness.

And there he was, limping quickly toward the defence desk, David not registering the full impact of their dilemma until he spotted the boy behind him.

‘Your Honour, I apologise,' said David as a white-faced Connor Kincaid approached him. ‘If I may have a moment?'

He didn't even wait for the judge's answer, merely placed his hand on Connor's shoulder and pulled him close. ‘What is it?' he asked. ‘Where's Jack?'

‘He didn't arrive,' said Connor.

‘
What
?'

‘He said he'd be at my place at 8.15, but he never came. I called his cell,
like a million times, but he didn't answer so . . .' Connor took a breath. ‘I drove by his house – but he wasn't there and neither was his mom's car. But then I figured he might have forgotten he was meant to pick me up . . . but he's not here, is he, David?' The fear in Connor's dark brown eyes was unmistakable. ‘Jack isn't here.'

Vicki Delgado stood up behind them. ‘What is it?' she demanded. ‘Connor, where is Jack?'

‘Your Honour.' The voice came from the back of the room. David turned to see Harry McNally advancing toward them, holding his Blackberry in his hand.

‘And who are you?' asked Jones, obviously approaching his limits.

‘I'm Detective Harry McNally, Judge. Newark PD Homicide, and I have some—'

‘Hold on a moment,' interrupted Jones. ‘You're the one on leave.'

‘Only according to the FAP, Your Honour. I've been working this case for the last month or so, with the defence.'

McNally shot a look at David that said, ‘It's okay, the time for protecting me is past,' while Marshall went to object and a now confused Jones held up his hand.

‘Detective, you have permission to approach. Mr Marshall, Mr Cavanaugh,' he beckoned the two men forward, ‘what the hell is this all about, Mr Cavanaugh?' the judge demanded. ‘Is what Detective McNally says true?'

‘Yes, Your Honour.'

Jones's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it. ‘You've been working together?'

‘Yes.'

‘And all this commotion this morning . . . ?'

‘Your Honour,' began David, ‘our first witness, a young man by the name of Jack Delgado, was due at court at nine, but I am afraid he has gone missing.' David looked at McNally.

McNally went to talk but Jones held up his hand once again.

‘Missing?' repeated the judge, his broad shoulders rounding further into the huddle, his large black hand cupping the microphone in front of him. ‘What do you mean missing?'

‘The young man was to give testimony regarding some extremely
pertinent but distressing information as to his involvement in events on the night of Ms Maloney's death – when Mr Delgado was present in her apartment with Connor Kincaid and another boy by the name of Will Cusack.'

‘You really
do
have an alternative theory in regards to the victim's murder, Mr Cavanaugh?'

David realised the judge thought he had been bluffing all along. ‘It's not just a theory, Judge, we have evidence.'

‘
Rubbish
!' A now seething Marshall cut David short. ‘Your Honour, forgive me, but Mr Cavanaugh has already approached me with this unethical load of lies. His theatrics, his stall tactics, they are nothing but acts of disrespect carried out by a desperate man trying to pull a nonexistent case together.' Marshall turned to David. ‘Tell me, Counsellor, did your first witness take the money and run? Did your client's family pay him off to tell the court some cockamamie story that—'

‘Jack Delgado is dead.' McNally couldn't hold it in any longer. And even though David had suspected something had gone terribly wrong, the pain in his chest hit him like a road train. Jack . . . Mike's Jack . . . the kid with all the promise.

‘The boy is
dead
?' asked Jones.

‘Yes, Your Honour. I just received a text from my partner, Detective Carla Torres. She told me the Roseville police attended a call about a possible suicide in Branch Brook Park. The police found the body of a young man matching Mr Delgado's description hanging from a tree overlooking the pond, Sir.'

David's heart sank.

‘But how do you know it's your witness?' asked Jones.

‘It's him, Your Honour,' said David.

McNally met David's eye – his face overcome with an expression that said, ‘We have failed'. And David nodded, before turning instinctively to take in Vicki Delgado and his good friend Mike beside her.

And that was when Vicki Delgado screamed – before the back door whooshed opened again and David's breath left him, as the last person he expected to see came striding into the courtroom.

W
ill Cusack entered from the back, talking three long steps before stopping short.

The room was silent, electric almost – but what unnerved Will most was the fact that the entire fucking congregation had turned to look at him.

‘
What
?' Will wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure of whom to ask it. But then he saw Cavanaugh and that asshole cop turn from the judge to meet his eye, and then a familiar voice called out.

‘
You bastard
!' The crowd swivelled back toward the front of the room as Connor's words filled the space with echo. ‘
You fucking bastard
!' Connor was going ballistic, his voice cracking in between the sobs.

Will's instinct kicked in – immediately sending him into defence mode. ‘What have you done, Connor?' he asked as Connor rose to his feet, turning in the limited space around him to face Will front on. ‘What the hell have you done?'

‘What have
I
done?' yelled Connor, and Will looked to the big black judge up front, expecting him to control his fucking courtroom, only to see him place his gavel purposefully on the bench before him, like an umpire taking off his whistle, to see what would happen when opposing teams went at it.

Connor leapt up on his bench, two spectators in the seat behind him scuttling sideways just in case the kid decided to jump right over their heads. And that was when Will knew that something beyond the obvious had gone terribly fucking wrong. He just needed to work out what.

‘Connor,' said Will, taking a slight step forward, ‘what lies did you tell them?'

‘
Lies
? I told them the truth, Will,' said Connor, now struggling against the arms of Mike Murphy which were wrapped firmly around his waist. ‘I told them what I saw – what
we
saw, what you did and . . .'