The Girl From Home: A Thriller (34 page)

Jackie's panic is now ten times worse than before. This is cruel. Using her children as pawns.

“My mother can stay with Emma,” Jackie says. Her voice now sounds shakier than ever. She can't deny that the police are getting to her. Weakening her resolve. “But I need to call her and it's going to take her a few hours to drive up here.”

“Then right now would be a good time for you to start telling us what really happened,” Detective Martin says.

Jackie looks to Agent Murray. She knows better than to think that just because she pretended to bond with Jackie over the motherhood solidarity speech, she actually cares about Jackie's well-being, or that of her children. Still, any port in a storm.

“He's right, Jackie,” Agent Murray says. “This goes away real fast if you just tell us the truth.” She looks to Detective Martin. “Hey, Quincy . . . I don't know if this will fly, but maybe we can talk with Jackie . . . off the record? Just to hear her story. See, if Mr. Caine was really calling the shots, and Jackie . . . you know, was more an aider and abettor type. Maybe she only found out after it was done, even. Then we can give Jackie a sense of how the DA will react to what happened. After that, Jackie can either give us a formal statement, or not. Her choice.”

Detective Martin considers the plan. “If we're going to do that, we need to do it right now and we need to get the full truth,” he says, looking intently at Jackie. “Any BS, we shut it down and you go straight to lockup.”

“What do you say, Jackie?” Agent Murray says. “Tell us what happened here and we can help you assess it. Totally off the record. If you don't like what we think the outcome would be, it'd be like it never was said. Sound fair?”

Fair.
The word rings in Jackie's ears. It has no meaning in this context. It's fair that Rick is dead. That she knows for sure. Beyond that, she's far less certain.

T
here's a second knock on the interrogation room door. Detective McGeorge crosses the room to open the door, and when he does, Alex Miller is on the other side. A Hispanic man wearing a coat and tie is beside him. Jonathan realizes instantly that he's the cop in charge.

“You got two minutes, Counselor,” the boss says. “After that, we're going to book your client, and you can see him at his arraignment.”

Alex addresses the detectives. “Gentlemen, if I only have two minutes, I'd like to use every second of them. Please shut the door behind you on your way out.”

The cops leave the room with unhappy faces. For the first time since his arrest, Jonathan smiles.

Jonathan speaks the moment he and Alex are alone. “Do they record in here? Can they hear us?”

“No. We're privileged. Even in here. That being said, there's no reason for you to say anything. In fact, we're in complete Cone-of-Silence mode. You don't say anything to anyone.”

“Was Jackie arrested?” Jonathan asks. “The cops said she was, but I never know when they're lying to me.”

“I honestly don't know. After I got your text, I called Mark Gershien. He's on his way, but as of about ten minutes ago, he hadn't heard from Jackie.”

“Can you find her, make sure she's okay?”

“Yeah. As soon as I leave you, I'll check to see if she's here. Does she also know that this is a say-nothing-and-invoke-your-right-to-counsel situation?”

That's the question Jonathan has been asking himself since the arrest. “I honestly don't know. They were pushing me hard to turn on her, and I'm sure they're doing the same thing to her. I mean, if she hasn't given me up already. You need to do whatever it takes to keep her calm. Tell her that we're going to get out today, that we won't have to spend the night in jail.”

“I don't know if that's right, Jonathan. The judge might deny you bail. And I know you know this, but even if he imposes bail, how will you post it?”

Jonathan's far less worried about having to stay in jail than he is about failing to secure Jackie's release. He'll be able to tough it out, but fears that being denied bail will push Jackie over the edge—and into the waiting arms of the prosecution. If that happens, he'll never get out.

“Alex, listen to me. You said it yourself. Jackie's best play here is to turn on me. The more pressure she's under, the more likely that's going to happen. So if you want to defend me, what you need to do is tell Jackie whatever you have to tell her so that she remains calm, and that means convincing her that she's going to be home, with her kids, tonight.”

“Okay,” Alex replies, but he sounds unsure whether he can pull it off.

*  *  *

Before Jackie can respond to Agent Murray's off-the-record proposal, there's a knock on the door. It's loud enough to indicate urgency.

Jackie's relieved to have the distraction. From the look on Detective Martin's face, she can see that he doesn't share that sentiment. He obviously thinks Jackie is this close to cracking, and this unwanted intrusion is going to set back all his good work.

An older Hispanic man, wearing a sports jacket and tie, pokes his head into the room. “I need to see you guys,” he says.

“We'll just be a minute,” Detective Martin tells Jackie. “I suggest you use this time to consider what you want the rest of your life to look like.”

As soon as they've left, Jackie allows herself a deep exhale. She's completely scared out of her mind. This is not the life she imagined. Sitting in a police station, wondering whether Jonathan is going to give her up. Contemplating the rest of her life behind bars.

She flashes on an image of the cops outside this room talking, and what she imagines they're saying is that Jonathan has already taken the deal. Whatever they want him to say, he's willing to go along with it, as long as they understand he had nothing to do with Rick's murder, and it was all her.

She shakes her head. No. Jonathan won't do that, she tells herself. But now it feels like she's whistling past the graveyard. Maybe he already has.

The door opens again, and it's the same Hispanic guy with the sports jacket. Behind him is a familiar face: Mark Gershien.

Mark pushes past his escort, taking the seat next to Jackie, where Agent Murray sat during her speech about the responsibilities of motherhood. “Are you okay?” he asks.

Jackie looks to the door. Detective Martin and Agent Murray have crammed into the entrance behind the other cop. She thinks Detective Martin looks hopeful, as if Jackie might decline her lawyer's help.

“A little privacy, please?” Mark says.

“Jackie, is this man your lawyer?” Detective Martin asks.

“I just said that I was, Detective.”

“Let's hear it from her, Counselor,” the cop in the sports jacket and tie says. “Mrs. Williams, my name is Lieutenant Alvez. I'm in charge here. Is Mr. Gershien your lawyer?”

They all wait for Jackie to cast the only vote that matters. Even Mark looks at her like the result is in some doubt.

“Yes,” she says softly, barely above a whisper.

“Okay. Now that that's settled,” Mark says, “you all need to give me a few minutes with my client, please.”

Detective Martin doesn't budge. “You're making a big mistake, Jackie. Very big,” he says.

“I'm not going to ask you again, Detective,” Mark snaps. “You get out right now, or I swear I'm going to get a court order and haul your ass out of here.”

Detective Martin first glares at her lawyer, and then slowly moves toward the door, slamming it hard behind him.

*  *  *

As soon as the door closes behind Detective Martin, Jackie asks her lawyer, “Did they arrest Jonathan, too?”

“Yes. That's how I knew to come down here. Jonathan texted Alex, and Alex called me.”

Of course, that's right, Jackie thinks. She's so out of it that she didn't even remember that she hadn't called Mark. She hadn't even told the police she'd retained a lawyer.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

“I'm scared. Really scared.”

Mark nods. “I'd be worried if you weren't.”

“You need to call my mother. They said that Robert, my son, can stay alone because he's eighteen, but they're going to put my daughter, Emma, in . . . I don't know what they called it, but some type of children's welfare agency. They said that because Emma's only sixteen she can't stay alone with Robert. A neighbor can watch her after school—or one of her friends' parents even—until my mother comes, but I don't want her . . . under arrest, too.”

Jackie begins to break down. She can't help but compare how freely the tears flow now with how difficult it was for her even to feign crying after Rick died.

Mark puts his hand on top of Jackie's. “I'll call your mom and I'll make whatever arrangements are needed for your daughter. Try your best not to worry about them, so you can focus on what's going to happen with you today.”

“Thank you. Really, Mark, thank you so much.”

“Let me explain how this is going to play out, so there are no surprises. I'm going to tell the police that you're invoking your right to silence. That means the questioning is going to stop, and they're going to process you. Don't be scared. It's just fingerprinting and a mug shot. Don't smile in it. Just look straight ahead. Then you'll be arraigned. It might take a few hours, but I'm certain we'll see a judge today. The arraignment is by video. You'll be in a courtroom in this building, but the judge, he's going to be in New Carlisle. All you do at the arraignment is say ‘not guilty' when the judge asks you to enter a plea. That's it.”

“Am I going to get to go home after that?”

“I hope so. I'll ask for bail. Now, it's possible that the prosecution is going to argue that you be held without bail. The judge might agree because this is a murder case. But you have no prior arrests, and strong ties to the community—you grew up here, right?”

“Yes. And my children go to school here.”

“Good. That also will work in our favor. What can you afford in terms of bail?”

“I don't know . . . Not very much, and what little we do have I was saving for the kids' college.”

“You're not spending it, Jackie. You're only
posting
it. You get it all back as long as you show up at trial. How much is your house worth? Ballpark?”

“Five hundred thousand. Less, I think.”

“Any mortgage?”

“Yes. I don't know how much.”

“How about your parents? Do they have any assets?”

“My mom. She owns a house in Baltimore without a mortgage. I don't know how much it's worth, but it's a nice house. It was my grandmother's.”

“Okay. We'll see what the judge imposes. Normally all you have to do is post collateral equal to some percentage of the bail amount.Between your house and your mother's, we'll likely be able to do that—if he permits bail, that is.”

Even with her lawyer's caveat, it's the first bit of positive news Jackie's heard today. Maybe she's going to get out of here.

H
aving no idea where Jackie is frightens Jonathan much more than his cell mates in lockup. Jonathan assuages his concerns by telling himself that female prisoners are held in a separate area, but like before, he can't rule out the more sinister explanation that Jackie's already cut a deal to cooperate and is comfortably back in her home.

He's in captivity for more than three hours. The other prisoners chat among themselves, but Jonathan doesn't engage them.

When a name is finally called by one of the guards, it's not Jonathan's. The man who answers to it is escorted out of the cell and through a double door that has no signage. After no more than five minutes, a second name that is not Jonathan's is called, and that man repeats the drill.

The first man never returns to the cell, which Jonathan takes to mean that he made bail. Of course, it might not mean that. For all Jonathan knows, there's a postarraignment cell waiting for those unfortunate souls who are denied bail or unable to post it.

When it's finally Jonathan's turn to go through the double doors, he sees that they lead to a courtroom. It's less grand than Jonathan had imagined. This place reminds him of a third-grade classroom.

As he has every prior instance he's been thrust into a new space, Jonathan searches for any sign of Jackie, and like all the times before, she's nowhere to be seen.

Alex Miller is already positioned behind the podium. The guards deposit Jonathan beside his lawyer, at which time Alex breaks from whatever he's reading to address his client.

“You know the drill, right? You say nothing other than ‘not guilty' when the judge asks you to enter a plea.”

“Okay,” Jonathan says. “What do you know about Jackie?”

“She was arrested, too, but she hasn't been called yet. Mark Gershien is here.” Alex points to Jackie's counsel, who's sitting in the third row. Jonathan hadn't noticed him before when he scanned the gallery looking for Jackie. “Mark told me that Jackie was holding up all right,” Alex continues. “She's concerned about her kids, and Mark made arrangements for Jackie's mother to come up. So, it's all good.”

Good?
Jonathan thinks. It's most certainly not all good.

In the place where the judge would otherwise sit, behind the bench, is a large monitor. Video cameras are positioned at the counsel table, focused on the two of them. Jonathan turns to see that a similar camera is atop the prosecution table.

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says, apparently realizing Jonathan's confusion. “They do this all now by videoconference. The judge is in a courtroom in New Carlisle, and that's where the trial in this case would be held. To avoid the time and expense of transporting people for a short arraignment hearing, they do it this way.”