Presumption of Guilt (28 page)

Bristling, Dani considered objecting to Baxter’s description of Molly as the murderer—after all, that’s what this trial was to determine—and decided to let it pass, fearing that an objection would only highlight his characterization further for the jury.

“Did you examine the premises for signs of a break-in?”

“Yes. My men and I examined every window and door and found no evidence of a break-in. I questioned Molly Singer as to whether the front door had been locked the night before, and she told me it had.”

“At some point did your attention turn to Ms. Singer?”

“Yes, right away. Her demeanor was strange. She didn’t appear to be upset or disturbed. She just sat on the couch and seemed very cool to me.”

“Did you bring her to the police station for questioning?”

“Yes.”

“Please describe what took place then.”

“Well, at first she kept saying that she went to sleep after one a.m. and didn’t hear or see anything until she woke up the next morning and found her parents dead. But after a while, she told us she’d taken Ambien the night before. She’d read about people doing things while they were on Ambien and started to question whether she could have killed her parents without knowing about it. We talked some more and she began to realize that that’s what she’d done. Little details came back to her, and she put those details in her confession.”

“Was her confession videotaped?”

“Yes, sir, that’s standard practice.”

Murdoch turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I’d like to show the videotape now.”

“Go ahead.”

The videotape was played. In it, Molly looked like the frightened teenager she was. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, and her face was pale. Dani knew the impact it would have on the jury as they heard her speak, her voice meek, confessing to the murders. Murdoch finished with a few more questions for the detective, then sat down.

Dani rose and approached the witness.

“Mr. Baxter, have you ever seen someone in shock before?”

“Sure.”

“Isn’t it true that someone who’s just witnessed a traumatic event can appear unnaturally calm?”

“I suppose. But most seventeen-year-olds would be hysterical if they saw their parents murdered.”

“Did you listen to the 911 call that Molly made?”

“I did. And she was agitated on that call, but she could have been putting it on. She was nothing like that when I saw her.”

“And how long after the call did you arrive?”

“About thirty minutes.”

“So, isn’t it possible that during those thirty minutes a state of shock could have set in?”

“Anything’s possible.”

“Now, turning to the doors and windows. Do you know if the Singers kept a spare key anywhere outside the house, in case they were locked out?”

“No. I don’t. But if they did, how would the intruder know where to look?”

“Do you keep a spare key for your house?”

Murdoch called out, “Objection. Irrelevant.”

“It goes to the commonality of keys and their hiding places, Your Honor.”

“I’ll let him answer.”

“Yeah, I have a key. It’s in a fake rock by the front door.” He allowed himself a small grin at the jurors. “Though I guess now I’ll have to move it.”

“And where did you purchase that fake rock?”

“Home Depot.”

“Isn’t it true that many people purchase fake rocks to hide keys to their house?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Have you ever heard of someone hiding a key to their house under a doormat?”

“Sure.”

“How about under a decorative item near the front door?”

“I guess.”

“In your experience, isn’t it common for people to keep spare keys outside their house in case they lock themselves out?”

“I don’t know. I never polled most people.”

“Let’s move on and talk about your questioning of Molly at the police station. Did you tell Molly that you had evidence she’d committed the crime?”

“Sure. It’s standard police interrogation to do that to get a confession.”

“And didn’t you say you found the murder weapon, and her fingerprints were on it?”

“I did.”

“Isn’t it true that you told Molly she didn’t remember murdering her parents because she’d taken Ambien?”

“That’s not how I remember it. I recall her suggesting it first.”

“How long had you been questioning Molly before you began telling her about this so-called evidence you had?”

“A few hours.”

“Exactly how many?”

“I’d say about nine hours.”

Dani allowed that to sink in before she went on.

“And was Molly able to talk to anyone, a lawyer or a family member, during those nine hours?”

“She waived her right to counsel.”

“So, she was a seventeen-year-old girl who’d discovered her parents murdered, had been all alone for nine hours while she was being questioned and told that you had proof she’d murdered her parents, then given a reason why she couldn’t remember, is that right?”

“Yeah. Only she’s the one who told us about the Ambien and not remembering things.”

“And how long after you told her you had proof she’d committed the murders did she confess?”

“About another two hours later.”

“Was her entire interrogation videotaped?”

“That’s not standard procedure. We just video the confession.”

“So you don’t have on video the hours she spent denying involvement in the murders.”

“They all start out saying they didn’t do it.”

“Thank you. I have no further questions.”

The morning continued with Murdoch’s questioning of the other police officers at the scene and Dani’s cross-examination of them. At noon, the judge called a recess for lunch. Dani and her team, along with Molly and Donna, headed over to the same nondescript luncheonette with gourmet food they’d found during Molly’s first 440 hearing.

“How do you think it’s going?” Molly asked when they were seated.

“Exactly as expected so far.” She turned to Tommy. “Were you keeping an eye on the jurors?”

“Yeah. Jurors five and seven concern me. They were listening real intently when Murdoch talked about her confession.”

Dani sighed. No matter how many experts she brought in to explain why people confessed to a crime they didn’t commit, it would still be a battle to convince the jurors. It was especially true in New York State, which held the distinction of having overturned the most wrongful convictions for murder since 2000. In many of those cases, where DNA later proved they had not committed the crime, the defendants had confessed.

She wished Judge Bryson and Sheriff Engles had been tried and convicted before Molly’s trial. Then, with both Finn and Frank’s testimony about the overheard conversation, the evidence would be strong that others had a motive to kill Molly’s father. But an arrest didn’t carry the weight of a conviction.

With the murder of Paul Scoby, Cosgrove had decided to go slowly with their prosecution, stall for more time to search for the money they pocketed from the fraud scheme. Cosgrove had told Dani that the state police had been tracking down every lead in the murder of Paul Scoby but, so far, had come up empty-handed. The car involved in the shoot-out at Reynolds’s house had stolen plates that led back to an elderly woman who rarely took her car out of her garage. And despite knocking on every door near Scoby’s home, no witness came forward with any useable information. Still, they hadn’t given up on the investigation.

They finished up their sandwiches and headed back to the courtroom. It would be a long afternoon of the prosecution’s witnesses, stretching out their testimony to make it seem like they had a case. Smoke and mirrors, Dani thought. Confuse the jurors with enough words that it would become a jumble in their minds, leaving room only for the image of Molly Singer on video, saying, “I killed my parents.”

C
HAPTER

48

H
is finger hovered over the doorbell as he wondered whether she would see him, speak to him. If she refused, he’d understand. His mouth felt dry and his stomach did acrobatics.

“Come on, Dad, what are you waiting for?” Sophie asked.

Finn closed his eyes, tried to calm himself, then pressed the button. Within a few moments, Donna opened the door. She stared at Finn, then pasted on a bright smile when she spotted Sophie.

“Hi, sweetie. Molly’s in the living room.”

Sophie stepped around her father and entered the house. Donna continued to stare silently at Finn.

“I know you didn’t expect me, too,” he said. “And I get it if Molly doesn’t want to see me. But”—he glanced downward, bit his lip, then looked up again—“but I’d really like to see her. Would you ask Molly if I can?”

Donna paused, then nodded. “Wait here.”

It seemed like an eternity, but then she was there, standing in the doorway, smiling at him. Her hair had darkened from the light blonde of childhood, but it still shone. She’d changed from the black skirt and flowered blouse he’d seen her wearing on the evening news coverage of her trial. Now she wore jeans that hugged her hips and an emerald cashmere sweater that deepened the green of her eyes.

“Of course I’d like to see you,” Molly said. She waved him inside and he followed her into the living room. “Have you met Len, and my niece and nephew?”

Finn nodded. They all lived in the same small community, and he’d run into them many times over the years. At first Donna, believing Molly had killed their parents, had been cordial to him. By the time Donna realized that Molly would never re-establish contact with her, she began to hold Finn responsible for the verdict. After that, they only spoke on the few occasions when he dropped Sophie off to spend time with Donna’s family.

“It’s good to see you,” Molly said as she sat down on the couch and motioned for Finn to sit next to her.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel, you know, because I testified for the other side at your trial.”

“We talked about this a long time ago. You didn’t lie on the stand.”

“But you didn’t know then that I was trying to protect my father.”

Molly could see Finn squirming. She knew this conversation had to be difficult for him, especially in front of her whole family. She took his hand in hers. “You thought you were doing the right thing. I’m not angry at you. If anyone, it’s my own father I should be angry at.” She stopped speaking and the room was silent. She let go of Finn’s hand, picked up her glass of water from the cocktail table, and took a sip. After placing the glass back, she looked up and quietly said, “I spent twelve years in prison because my father was a crook. If he hadn’t cheated the county, no one would have felt threatened; no one would have killed him. I lost my daughter because of what he did.”

Donna came over to Molly, pulled her up from the couch and gathered her into her arms. “He did something terrible, that’s true,” Donna said. “But he wanted to make it right. He shouldn’t have been killed for it. Or Mom either. Be angry at the men who murdered them.”

Molly pulled away from her sister, sighed, then sat back down on the couch. “You’re right, I guess. It’s just—I want those years back. I didn’t allow myself to be angry when I was in prison. It made it too hard. Now that I’m away from it, it’s all coming to the surface.”

“Maybe that’s good,” Finn said. “Maybe you need to let it out.”

Molly smiled. “Well, I just did and I feel better already.”

The conversation returned to the idle chatter of families. No one spoke about the ongoing trial. Instead, there was an easy, relaxed rapport among the family members. Even laughter at times. Finn watched Sophie’s face as she joined in the conversation, already a part of this family, it seemed to him. She looked happy, something he hadn’t seen in a long time. As it approached nine o’clock, he motioned to Sophie that it was time to leave.

“Just a little longer,” she begged.

“School tomorrow.”

Sophie stood up, gave Molly a hug, and said good-bye to the rest of the family. Molly walked Finn and Sophie to the front door, and when they got there, Finn said to Sophie, “Go sit in the car. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

When she left, Finn turned to Molly. For a long time he’d wanted to tell her he’d been wrong. Wrong about so many things, but most of all for convincing Molly to give up Sophie. It had hurt both of them. Mothers and daughters shouldn’t be separated, he’d realized too late, long after it had been clear that Kim didn’t want to be Sophie’s mother. “I—” He paused, looked down at the ground, then up at Molly again. “I—” The words wouldn’t come. He felt like they were tied up in a knot inside his chest, and he couldn’t untangle them.

Molly put her hand on Finn’s. “It’s okay. I know what you want to say.”

Finn mumbled, “You don’t.”

“You want to say you’re sorry.”

The knot loosened, his words began to flow. “I should never have asked you to give up Sophie. She’s been so unhappy. And I see her now with you, with your family. Her face lights up around you.”

Molly continued to hold Finn’s hand. She brushed her hair away from her face, and said, “I should never have agreed to it. Mothers shouldn’t give up their children. Ever. But”—her voice softened—“we both thought we were doing what was best for Sophie. And we were both mistaken. There’s no point in looking backward now. It can’t be undone.”

Finn nodded. Still, he’d raised Sophie since she was a year old. He’d seen Kim’s treatment of her, the subtle rejection after Graham was born. He could have done something about it, and he hadn’t. Molly may have forgiven him, but he wasn’t ready to forgive himself.

“When the trial is over, if I’m acquitted—” Molly said.

“Oh, you will be, how could the jury not see that.”

“If I am, I’d like Sophie to be in my life.”

“Of course.”

“I’d like to share custody of her.”

Finn had never thought about that. Sophie was his child. He’d had sole custody since he stopped bringing her for visits at the prison. He knew, though, that Sophie needed Molly. He nodded slowly. “We’ll work something out, when this is over.”

C
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49