Mercy (46 page)

"How was the defendant acting when he gave his confession?"

"He wasn't crying, if that's what you mean. He spoke clearly and concisely, like he knew what he was going to say."

"Objection," Graham said. "Witness can't know what was going on in Jamie'

s mind."

Roarke nodded. "The jury will disregard that part of the witness's statement.

"

Audra continued, unfazed. "Based on the confession you heard from the def endant, Chief MacDonald, do you believe this killing was premeditated?"

"Yes."

"Do you think the defendant deliberated over killing his wife, even if only f or a span of several minutes?"

"Yes."

"Do you think the defendant willfully suffocated his wife?"

"I do."

Audra stepped out of Cam's field of vision, so that he could see Allie, her eyes dark and sharp, supremely cold. From a long dis-tance, he could hear the prosecutor's heels clicking on the speckled tile floor

. "Nothing further," she said.

During the short recess the judge called after Cam's initial testimony, Grah am told Allie that Jamie wanted to see her. He led her to a small conference cubicle down the hall from the courtroom, protected on the outside by an ar med security guard.

Allie opened the door and then closed it quickly, shutting out the bustle and the accusations in the hallway. Jamie was sitting down, his head bent to the table as if the wood offered something fascinating. "I'm sorry," she said im mediately.

Jamie looked up and grinned. "Did I lose already?" Allie shook her head. "I mean about yesterday. I should have been here. I wa nted to be here." She paused. "I just wasn't thinking." He laughed. "I know that defense. You're not gonna get off with that." His face realigned itself into a bitter line. "Unless I set a precedent." Allie sat down across from him. "You look like you're doing all right." Jamie glanced at her. "So do you." He leaned forward. "And what does that t ell you?"

She knew that if she sat there for another thirty seconds, she was going to be crying, and she wasn't about to burden Jamie with her own problems. "I ha ve to go."

"Tell me," Jamie said quietly. "It would be nice not to think about myself fo r a change."

Allie let herself sink back into the hard metal chair. Her skirt billowed arou nd her ankles. "All right," she murmured. And she started to talk. Once she began, she could not stop. Each sentence tugged another out of he r heart in an unbroken line. Allie started by saying that Cam had been hav ing an affair. That she had been too stupid to see that it was with Mia, h er own assistant. That she found out after they'd gone away somewhere cold and snowy for a weekend. That Cam had lied.

She told Jamie about the garage sale, and the strongbox, and how she had hi tched rides to Shelburne Falls. She told him about

the buffalo cowboy and the awful night at the motel. She told him that, like an idiot, she couldn't keep herself from going back, but she didn't know if she could give Cam what he wanted.

"And what's that?" Jamie asked.

Allie let all her breath out in a rush. "Everything back to normal. Me, befor e it happened. Him, before he met her."

Jamie stared at Allie, taking in the circles beneath her eyes and the way h er hands played nervously along the lap of her skirt. He had listened to Ca m's testimony, of course, but what had struck him was who Cam appeared to b e talking to. Graham had told Jamie that most of the witnesses for the pros ecution, especially their so-called experts, would completely ignore Jamie and speak directly to Audra or to the jury. Well, Cam had ignored Jamie, bu t he had been focused on his wife.

He'd recognized that look. Please, it said. You're all I've got. And it occurred to him that Allie MacDonald had brought about something un likely that Jamie himself had not been able to bring about by giving his w ife her final wish. Instead of doing what Cam had expected--crying, Jamie supposed, and carrying on and begging--Allie had pulled the rug out from b eneath him. All this time, Jamie had believed the way to Maggie's devotion lay in doing whatever she asked and being whatever she wanted. Allie had proven differently.

She'd done it when she wasn't even trying. She'd shifted the balance betwee n them. All of a sudden, instead of Allie trailing behind Cam, Cam was clin ging to whatever Allie was willing to offer.

"Forty-sixty," he said, looking at Allie with a newfound admiration. "Who would have guessed?"

Cam took the stand again just after lunch, and Graham moved directly in fro nt of him. He knew what his job was going to be, and he had to admit, it wa s going to be a pleasure to do it. You couldn't discredit a policeman's tes timony, especially a police chief. Everyone on that jury saw Cam as a good guy just a few notches down from God and the President; a solid, helpful pu blic figure. If he bullied Cam, the jury would judge Graham harshly. You di dn't destroy the lawman; you destroyed the jury's blind acceptance of him. Jodi Picoult

"Chief MacDonald," Graham said pleasantly. "Are there a lot of murder ca ses in Wheelock?"

Cam shook his head. "This is a first for me." He smiled. "Thank God."

"Have you ever been involved in another case where the victim was terminall y ill?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"No," Cam said, "I haven't."

Graham made an indiscriminate noise and crossed toward the jury. "Would you say, given your training, that this case is different from other murder ca ses?"

"In some respects."

"Such as?"

"Well, the perpetrator of the crime knew the victim in this case. He--"

"Yes," Graham interrupted. "He did. And isn't it true that in most other murd er cases, the victim doesn't give her consent?"

"Objection." Audra waved from her table.

"I'll rephrase. In the majority of murder cases, does the victim give consent?

"

"Of course not," Cam said.

"Chief, how did Jamie seem when he was confessing?"

"Objection." This time the prosecutor got to her feet. "Asked and answered."

"Sustained." Judge Roarke gave Graham a measured look.

"Chief MacDonald, you said earlier that Jamie was clear and concise, I believ e, during his voluntary confession. Is that correct?"

"It is." Cam rested his elbow on the railing, as if he was beginning to enjoy t his.

"Was Jamie clear and concise from the time you first saw him in front of the police station all the way through to the time you secured his confession?" Cam shook his head. "There was an incident when my sergeant went to check on the status of the victim. The defendant pulled out of a restraining hol d and pushed the officer out of the way. He kept mumbling incoherently, so mething about nobody else touching his wife."

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"Was he crying then?"

"Yes, he was."

"So within an hour, in your opinion, Jamie went from being somewhat violen t and upset to speaking clearly and concisely?"

"That's correct."

From the corner of his eye, Graham saw a fly buzzing around Jamie's head at the defense table. He swatted at it a few times and then trapped it agains t the table with a cupped palm. Graham noticed several of the jurors watchi ng. He held his breath, and Jamie flattened his palm down, then removed the evidence with a napkin.

Shit. That set back all the ground he had covered. "Chief Mac-Donald, did you know Jamie before he showed up at the police station on September ni neteenth?"

Cam's head jerked up. "Yes," he said. "The defendant is my cousin."

"That's fairly common in Wheelock, isn't it? Can you explain the origins of your town? "

Audra raised a pen into the air. "Objection, Your Honor," she said. "Releva nce?"

Graham turned to the judge. "Give me a little leeway, here," he pleaded.

"I'll allow it." Roarke turned to Cam. "You may answer the question." For fifteen minutes, Cam wove a tale of a displaced Highland clan that his a ncestral namesake had shipped out piecemeal to Massachusetts two hundred and fifty years before. He explained that he was still technically the chief of the clan, although it was only an honorary title.

"But as clan chief," Graham said, "you might have even more of a sense of re sponsibility to the citizens of Wheelock than an ordinary police chief, is t hat right?"

Cam shrugged. "I'd like to think so."

"Is it possible that Jamie's decision to kill his wife in Wheelock had someth ing to do with the fact that you were there?"

"Objection, " Audra said. "My witness is not on trial.

"Counselor," Roarke admonished, "you're on thin ice."

"Chief MacDonald," Graham continued, doggedly driving to-Jodi Picoult ward his point, "as a member of the MacDonald clan, wouldn't Jamie have l ooked to you for advice?"

"In theory."

"Is it possible that he might have come to Wheelock for your support?" Cam leaned forward and pinned Graham with a glare. "Then why didn't he ge t in touch with me before he killed her?"

For a moment, Graham was speechless. A dull red flush worked its way up fr om the collar of his shirt. "Do you consider yourself an honorable man?" h e asked finally.

Cam looked at his wife. He was under oath. He shifted nervously, but Allies gaze did not waver. "Most of the time."

"Can you recite the town motto of Wheelock?"

"Ex uno disce omnes. It means, 'From one, judge of the rest.' " He hesitated.

"It's also the original motto of the clan from Carry-muir, over in Scotland.

"

Graham nodded. "So your motto involves judging, too." He glanced up at a w ater spot on the ceiling. "If Jamie MacDonald is a bad seed, what would it say about your clan and yourself, Chief?"

Cam scowled. "I don't see the real point--"

"Just answer the question, please."

Graham looked quickly at the jury, to see if anyone seemed to feel he was pu shing the policeman a little too hard. Most of them were leaning forward in their seats.

Cam stared directly at his wife. "I think there are extenuating circumstance s you have to consider," he said slowly, "anytime you judge a man." yudge Roarke, who had a known penchant for Oreo cookies, called for a half

-hour afternoon recess after Cam's cross-examination. Cam checked his watc h. It was just after three. By the time the court reconvened, it would alm ost be time to go home. Allie had brought her own car this morning, but ma ybe he could convince her to talk over coffee or even dinner. He just want ed to make peace.

The worst part was being with her in the same house and not knowing what the hell was running through her mind. She'd go about doing things like a lways--emptying the dishwasher, watching the "Today" show--but she had th is knack of looking right

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through him. She said she didn't want to get rid of him, but he was beginni ng to feel that the only reason she wanted him around was to punish him. He told himself that he was the one who had been the asshole, and she had a right to her distance. He told himself that if he wanted to put Mia into a b eautiful, frozen memory and not let the past months disturb anything else ab out his life, he had to show some signs of humility. He just wasn't very goo d at walking around with his tail between his legs.

Allie had said she loved him. She'd come around.

He was bent over the water fountain when he felt a hand on the collar of his shirt which pulled him up and slammed him hard against the wall. "If I didn

't think I'd be booked on assault and battery," Jamie said through clenched teeth, "I'd break your nose."

He released Cam as suddenly as he'd grabbed him, leaving the bystanders an d the security guards to wonder if they had imagined the confrontation. "I guess Allie told you," Cam said, embarrassed that this man would know so much about him.

"You're an idiot. You don't know what you've lost." Cam stared at Jamie, thinking of what he had not mentioned during his testi mony--Jamie's story about his wife's illness, the trip to Quebec, the gentl eness with which he had touched the corpse after he'd pushed Zandy out of t he way. And he realized that strangely enough, this man might be the one pe rson to understand. "You don't know what I had," Cam said quietly. At his cousin's tone, Jamie took a step back. "Temporary insanity?"

"I guess that's what some people would call it." Jamie stared at him. He did not speak, but his message was clear: Or were y ou only doing something that you knew had to be done? Even if it broke all the rules?

Cam nodded down the hall, to a spot that was less crowded, and they walked there in silence. Then Cam leaned against the brick surface, one leg bent a t the knee with his foot against the wall, and tilted his head back. "How d id you do it?" he asked, his voice thick. "How did you make yourself let he r go?"

Jamie wouldn't meet his eye. "I just sort of accepted the fact that it would kil l me a little bit every day for the rest of my life." Jodi Picoult

Cam considered Mia, her hair bouncing over the collar of her oversized coat

, and wondered if she was feeling that, wherever she'd gone.

"I don't think I've given you enough credit," Cam said. Jamie looked at his cousin, at the pristine cuffs and corners of his regulati on shirt and the brass and buttons that winked from it. He thought of what Ca m had just admitted, and then of Allie; and he knew that even if it all worke d out in the end, her heart was still the one that would be broken. Jamie turned away. "I think I gave you too much." 77 Hen and Allie sat across from each other in an empty room up-I ?> stair s from the court. They were sipping cups of coffee bought from a noisy ven ding machine.

"I think the jury likes Jamie," Allie said, hoping to keep the conversation away from Cam.

"I think the woman with the beads in her hair does," Ellen agreed. "The art t eacher, right?"

"Nursery school aide," Allie corrected. "But she was on our side to begin wi th."

Ellen looked intrigued. "How can you tell?"

"Hang around Graham and it becomes an instinct," she said. She had her face turned toward the window. It was raining, and between yes terday's thaw and today's downpour practically all the snow was gone. The world looked completely different than it had just days before. Ellen wrung her napkin in her lap. She had heard about Allie's garage sale; who hadn't? In fact, along with Hannah at the station, she'd been responsi ble for finding who had what of Cam's. Hannah had used the phone; Ellen had dowsed. "Cam did well today," she said, and she saw Allie visibly flinch. The rain reflected on Allie's cheeks in hideous boils and spots that ran toge ther. When she turned, Ellen was taken aback by the distortion. "Allie," she confessed softly, "I knew."