The Divine Appointment (16 page)

“Not anymore. You just caused me to lose the Masters.”

Jill smiled. Her black hair was pulled back and held in place with a plastic hair clip. She wore a beige skirt, white blouse, and high heels. “I thought you would like to see these.” She handed Eli a stack of documents.

Leaning the putter against the wall, he carried the documents to his desk and sat down in his executive leather chair.

“Our PI was able to get copies of the investigative file from the DA,” Jill continued. “That’s the first set of documents. But I think you will find the second set more interesting. It’s the follow-up report on Tag Grissom.”

Eli deposited the top stack of documents on his desk and began to read through the second stack. He read two pages and looked up. Jill stood at the front of his desk.

“Interesting,” he exclaimed. “This case gets weirder all the time.”

“I thought so, too.”

“This says that Tag’s mother died mysteriously not long after he finished medical school.”

“It was a one-car accident, and the authorities thought it was suspicious. But nothing ever came of it.”

Eli studied the report again. “Her car went over the side of a cliff, but no skid marks. That makes me think she either wanted to die or the brakes failed.”

“The police could never conclusively determine whether the brakes were tampered with or not. And Tag, being the next of kin, asked them to drop the investigation.”

Eli wrinkled his nose. “It doesn’t quite pass the smell test, does it?”

“No doubt there’s something weird about it. Your mother dies under suspicious circumstances and you don’t want the authorities to investigate? When my parents died, I wanted the guy who hit us to rot in jail. And my parents died in an accident, not something that was intentional.”

Eli frowned. “And another thing. I remember thinking about it when I found out, but I didn’t consider it important at the time. How did Tag’s mother—a single mother at that—send him to a private school, Vanderbilt, and Emory? That’s a very expensive education on a single parent’s income.”

“Family money?”

“The PI’s report doesn’t reflect any significant family wealth,” Eli said. “Tag earns a handsome salary as a cardiologist and puts some of it away. But that’s it.”

“He’s hiding something.”

Eli drummed his fingers on the desktop and exhaled. “I’d say that he and Anna aren’t just hiding
one
something but a
bunch
of somethings.”

The James S. Brady Press Briefing Room, the White House, Washington DC

President Wallace’s staff arranged a news conference in the James S. Brady Press Briefing Room of the White House on Monday afternoon at 1:00 p.m. eastern time. The president hated meeting with the White House press corps more than anything else. He didn’t trust them. But he’d decided it was time to address the media and the country regarding Judge Shelton. A podium was erected with a blue top and a gray trunk. A dark blue drape covered the wall behind the podium and a large plaque of the White House hung in front of the drape.

White floodlights beamed from the ceiling in all directions and washed over the platform. A shadow didn’t have a chance. The room was filled with representatives of all the major news outlets. The president and his entourage entered from behind the platform, and President Wallace bounded up to his place behind the podium amid rapid
click
s from camera shutters. The remainder of his entourage, including Porter, stood to the side, stage right. President Wallace wore a dark blue suit and a red tie. He wanted to look presidential and in charge, and he did.

“I want to thank all of you for coming today,” the president began. He glanced down occasionally at the statement prepared by his speechwriter. The pace of his words was slow and deliberate. “As you know, four days ago there was an attempt on the life of Supreme Court nominee Judge Dunbar Shelton and his wife, Victoria. Their lives were spared, but an innocent man was killed. I’ve spoken to Billy Ray Bolton’s widow and told her that the federal government will do everything it can to bring to justice the individual or individuals who committed this horrible crime.”

President Wallace slid the top sheet from his prepared remarks to the right-hand side of the podium and began to read from the second page. “It has been a very difficult time for the Shelton family. Judge Shelton is a faithful public servant. His only desire is to serve the people of this great country in any way he can. He was nominated by me to fill a seat of honor, and his reward was an attempt on his life.”

The speech had been written by one of his favorite speechwriters. Porter liked her, too. The words in the speech directed him to pause for dramatic effect at this point, and he did before continuing. He looked directly into the television cameras and banged his fist on the podium.

“His attacker or attackers will not go unpunished. I have spoken to Judge Shelton many times over the last several days, mainly to check on his well-being. But I also offered to allow him to withdraw his nomination to the Supreme Court. No man or woman should live in fear of his or her life simply because they desire to serve the public good.”

President Wallace shifted his weight from one side to the other and moved to page three. “Judge Shelton contacted me this morning. He, his wife, and his children have discussed what is best for their family. They have prayed earnestly. And after much prayer and discussion Judge Shelton informed me that he desires to go forward with the confirmation process. I told him how much I admired him and that his country greatly appreciates him.”

“Because of the injuries sustained by Judge Shelton and Victoria, it will be impossible to begin the confirmation hearings next week. They need time to recuperate and to deal with insurance and other logistical things that necessarily follow an event such as this. I have asked the Senate leadership and the chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee to delay the hearings until the week after the Fourth of July break. Senator Proctor and Senator Montgomery concur in my assessment. We have agreed that the confirmation hearings will begin the Monday after the Fourth of July.”

President Wallace shuffled his speech together and scanned the crowd. “I’ll be glad to take any questions.”

A female reporter with the AP who was seated in the front row raised her hand.

The president pointed to her. “Yes, Olivia.”

“Mr. President, do the authorities have any suspects at this point?”

He didn’t particularly like Olivia Nelson. She tried to burn him in her reporting every chance she got. But she was one of the senior members of the White House press corps, and that meant she was entitled, on a rotating basis, to ask the first question at press conferences. He had known this question would be asked. But he also knew he couldn’t answer it—yet.

“Olivia, it would be imprudent for me to talk about the investigation at this point. The FBI is following up on every lead, and Director Hughes has assured me that his office will do everything it can to apprehend the person or persons responsible for this attack as soon as possible.”

President Wallace scanned the crowd again. Hands went up everywhere, and pleas of “Mr. President, Mr. President” echoed through the room; it sounded like kindergarteners trying to get the teacher’s attention. He pointed to a male reporter from NBC who sat on the third row, left side.

“Mr. President, will this delay in the confirmation hearings change your strategy in any way?”

The president placed his hands on either side of the podium and tilted his head toward the microphones. “I don’t think it will have any impact on the confirmation process whatsoever. We expect that Judge Shelton will receive a fair up-or-down vote in the Senate and that he will be confirmed.”

President Wallace glanced at Porter, who gave him the sign that it was time to end the press conference. “That’s all the time I have for now. Thank you for your attendance and patience.”

He stepped down from the platform and was ushered through the door behind the platform by Porter and other members of his staff. The
click
ing from the camera shutters resumed and intensified, and a chorus of “Mr. President, Mr. President” rang out until the exit door completely closed.

The Metropolitan Nashville-Davidson County Courthouse, Nashville, Tennessee

“All rise,” the bailiff called out as Judge Blackwood entered the courtroom and assumed his position on the bench. Judge Blackwood’s docket had been backlogged, and it had taken several days to schedule a hearing after Eli’s motion to exhume Jessica Caldwell’s body was filed. But the hearing had finally arrived. Eli, Jill, Tag, and Anna were in their respective chairs from the preliminary hearing. Eli still had yet to change Tag’s appearance to a more likeable one. Randy Dickerson was there, too, looking very important at the prosecution table.

The room was crowded again with reporters and media types. Eli and the others had been accosted in the hallway by a larger throng than at the preliminary hearing. A request to exhume a body was rare, and this was a high-profile case. The combination created nothing short of a media frenzy.

Jordan and Heddy Caldwell were there, too. Eli noticed them when he entered. There was someone else with them today, and Eli recognized him as Reese Finch of McAllister & Finch—Jessica Caldwell’s previous employer. Reese’s appearance hadn’t changed in years: half-lens spectacles, wispy white hair, and a bow tie. Every time Eli had seen Reese Finch he was wearing a bow tie.

“Mr. Faulkner,” Judge Blackwood began. “We’re here on your motion to exhume the decedent’s body. I’ll be glad to hear from you at this time.”

Eli stood and approached the podium that stood between the defense table and the prosecution table. He opened his three-ring notebook on the top of the podium and skimmed his notes as he began.

“Your Honor, we appreciate the court hearing us on such short notice. But the court has scheduled the trial in this case for the third week of August. That is less than two months away, and we didn’t think we had time to delay seeking a ruling on this matter much longer.”

“I’m aware of the time constraints, Mr. Faulkner, and the court is glad to accommodate. But let’s get to your motion.”

Interruptions by Judge Blackwood weren’t unusual.

Eli returned to his notes unfazed. “If it pleases the court, we’re asking for an order that Ms. Caldwell’s body be exhumed so we can obtain DNA testing on the fetus to determine whether the DNA matches that of my client. The state has already obtained a blood sample from my client to compare against skin fragments found under the decedent’s fingernail. So—”

“Do you even know whether the fetus is still available?” Judge Blackwood interrupted. “Most of the time the internal organs are thrown into the incinerator during the autopsy.”

Eli wasn’t easily rattled, even by judges who didn’t know what they were talking about. “The coroner’s report doesn’t indicate that the organs were destroyed during the autopsy, but we have subpoenaed Dr. Stephenson to today’s hearing to clarify that point.”

Eli could hear Randy rise from his chair and pivoted to look at him.

“Your Honor,” Randy said without acknowledging Eli, “the state isn’t opposed to Mr. Faulkner’s motion. In fact, we’re in support of it. We believe that the DNA will match the defendant’s.”

“But we’re opposed to it,” came a voice from the gallery.

Eli and Randy both turned and saw Reese Finch standing in the front row of the gallery.

“May I be heard?” Reese asked Judge Blackwood.

“It’s highly unusual, Mr. Finch, but step forward.”

Reese stepped through the swinging gate in the bar that separated the area of the courtroom reserved for lawyers from the parties in the gallery and approached the podium. Eli stepped away from the podium.

“I’m Reese Finch, with McAllister—”

“We all know who you are, Mr. Finch,” Judge Blackwood said. “Tell me why you’re here.”

Eli noticed that the back of Reese’s ears became red at being interrupted by Judge Blackwood.

“I represent Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell, the parents of the decedent,” Reese said in a wounded tone. He pointed back at Jordan and Heddy Caldwell, who sat in the front row of the gallery. Heddy dabbed lightly at her eyes with a tissue, and Jordan placed his arm around her.

“My clients are opposed to the request of defense counsel to exhume Ms. Caldwell’s body. It will be very traumatic to my clients to have their daughter’s grave desecrated at the request of the very man who killed her.” Reese’s voice rose as he spoke. Now he pointed a menacing finger at Tag. “He’s already done enough. Why can’t he just leave her body alone?”

Eli had heard all he could stand. He approached the podium. “May I speak again, Your Honor?”

“Go ahead.”

“I certainly recognize how disturbing the possibility of an exhumation is to the Caldwell family. I struggled with that before ever filing our request with the court. But the truth is that Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell don’t have the standing to oppose the motion. They are not parties to this litigation. And my client has his Sixth Amendment right to be confronted with the witnesses against him and to be assisted by counsel. To effectively assist Mr. Grissom, I believe we have a right to know who fathered Ms. Caldwell’s unborn baby.”

“And, Mr. Dickerson, does the court understand you to say that the state is not opposed to having the body exhumed?”

“That’s right, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Finch, I’m afraid Mr. Faulkner is correct. You don’t have the standing to oppose the motion. But before I rule on Mr. Faulkner’s request, I’d like to hear from Dr. Stephenson.”

With that, Dr. Stephenson was escorted into the courtroom. He hobbled to the witness chair, was sworn in, and sat down. Eli, Randy, and Reese all returned to their respective seats as well.

“Dr. Stephenson,” Judge Blackwood began. “I have a couple of questions. Were Ms. Caldwell’s internal organs destroyed during the autopsy?”

“No, sir, they weren’t. In a lot of autopsies the organs are destroyed, but in this case the cause of death was strangulation. We opened the uterus and measured the fetus, but otherwise the organs were left intact.”

“Tell me this, Dr. Stephenson. Is it medically possible at this point to obtain a credible DNA sample from Ms. Caldwell’s fetus?”

Dr. Stephenson scratched his head through his flattop and winced ever so slightly before looking at Judge Blackwood again. “Forensic science has come a long way in the last several years, Judge. Yeah, I think so. In fact, I’d say that it is just not possible, but
probable
that reliable DNA tests can be run on a tissue sample from the fetus.”

“If I order the body exhumed, how long do you think it will take your office to conduct the exhumation, obtain the tissue samples, and reinter the body?”

“Let’s see,” Dr. Stephenson said as he began to calculate days in his head. “This is Wednesday, and I think we can have that done by the end of next week.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stephenson. You may step down.”

Dr. Stephenson left the witness chair and exited through the same door he had entered. Eli had leaned back in his chair during the colloquy between Judge Blackwood and Dr. Stephenson but now sat up straight in anticipation of Judge Blackwood’s ruling.

“Mr. Faulkner, I’m going to grant your request and order that the body be exhumed. The coroner’s office will be directed to obtain samples to be sent to the state crime lab and samples to be sent to a lab of your choosing.” Judge Blackwood then focused on Reese Finch and the Caldwells. “Mr. Finch, I know that isn’t what your clients wanted to hear, but I think the law requires me to do whatever is necessary to ensure that Mr. Grissom receives a fair trial.”

Judge Blackwood returned his attention to Eli and Randy. “Anything further, gentlemen?”

“No, sir, Your Honor,” both Eli and Randy replied almost simultaneously.

“All right, then. The court will adjourn.”

Judge Blackwood banged his gavel, and the bailiff commanded, “All rise,” as the judge left the courtroom. Eli could hear Heddy Caldwell crying softly in the gallery behind the prosecution table.

Eli turned to Tag and Anna. “Jill has some research she needs to do while we’re in town. Can I come out to your house while I wait for her? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Anna and Tag exchanged a look before Anna nodded at Tag.

“Sure,” Tag replied. “In about an hour?”

“That would be great. I won’t stay long, I promise. See you then.”

The Grissom residence, Brentwood, Tennessee

Approximately an hour after the court hearing, Eli arrived at the Grissom residence and Anna greeted him at the front door. She escorted Eli to the den, where Tag waited.

Anna couldn’t refer to their house as a home. It had become nothing more than a place to live. But it was a very rich and lavish place to live—the den had high ceilings, a hand-carved marble mantel, and the finest of imported furniture.

Anna would have traded it all if it would have made her marriage to Tag stronger and better.

“I thought the hearing this morning went well,” Eli said. He parked on the leather sofa while Tag settled into one chair and Anna into the other. Eli had left his suit coat in his car and had loosened his necktie.

The television was off, so other than Eli’s voice, the room was strangely quiet. It wasn’t often that Anna didn’t have some audible noise in the house—the television, the stereo, or something else—because there usually was very little conversation between her and Tag to fill the void. But today there was something different about the quietness. Instead of something to be avoided, it seemed rather peaceful.

“What do you plan on doing with the DNA results?” Tag asked.

Anna knew Tag was concerned about the results but would never tell Eli that he was or why.

Eli crossed his right leg over the left at the knee. “In the movies or on TV, you might hear a lawyer refer to it as plan B. When all of the hard evidence points toward your client, you look for someone else at whom to point the finger. Based on what you told me the other day, the fetus’s DNA
can’t
match your DNA. We would then have someone else to point our finger at—even if we don’t know who it is. That’s plan B.”

“What’s plan A?”

“Plan A is to prove you didn’t do it.”

“I like plan A better.”

“Me, too,” Eli said. “But that’s not why I wanted to come by and talk to you.”

Anna noticed some nervousness in Eli’s body language. She had never seen that in him before. He had always appeared very confident. Eli’s nervousness garnered her attention.

“I feel led to talk to you about something,” Eli began. “And it may seem odd coming from me, your lawyer. But I’ll just come right out and say it. Do either of you know whether you would go to heaven if you died?”

Tag appeared startled. He flung a glance at Anna. “That’s an odd question. I’m sure that we both will. But what does that have to do with my case?”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with your case. As a Christian, I believe that I should talk with other people about whether they are Christians or not. And I wanted to talk with you about it as well. That’s all.”

“Well, don’t worry about us,” Tag assured Eli. “We’re Christians.”

“How do you know for sure?”

Anna sat quietly, her vision fixed on Eli. Her heart began to race. There was something about the way Eli spoke. His words had a different tone to them from what she had heard from him before. They weren’t carefully measured. He didn’t sound like a lawyer. She knew when she had talked with Eli before that he was genuine and honest and cared. But this was beyond mere professional concern. He seemed more like a friend who was worried about her and Tag’s well-being, but there was nothing wrong with them, was there? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tag change position in his chair.

“I don’t understand,” Tag said. “Know what for sure?”

“How do you know for sure that you’re going to heaven if you were to die?”

“Isn’t everybody?” Tag shot back.

“Not exactly,” Eli responded. “Only those who have accepted Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior.” He shifted his gaze back and forth between Anna and Tag.

Anna studied Eli. Now he looked comfortable and at ease…confident in what he said.

“Have each of you done that?”

Eli’s words were direct and unavoidable. His question caused a chill to run along Anna’s spine. The inside of her mouth became dry and she couldn’t speak, even if she’d wanted to. Her hands grew clammy. She rubbed them together and hoped that neither Eli nor Tag noticed.