The Sacrifice (49 page)

“Do you happen to have that number?”

“It's here someplace, but I can't see anymore. My grandson will be home later. Do you want him to call you?”

“Don't go to any trouble. That's Kendall Garrison in Gaffney?”

“Garrison? No Kendall is a Kidd.”

Scott was thrown off guard. “How old is he?”

“In his early thirties, I reckon.”

Scott realized his mistake. “Oh, Kendall Kidd. I'm sorry.”

“Who's a-calling? I can have my—”

“Thanks.”

Scott put down the receiver. He typed in Kendall Kidd in Gaffney, South Carolina, the peach capital of South Carolina. The name and address popped up. Cousin Kendall was not a figment of the Garrisons' imaginations. Scott pressed the print button.

During the final week of preparation for the mock trial program, the students showed Scott how serious they could be. The sessions bore no resemblance to Scott's concern in Mr. Humphrey's office that he would be stuck in a room of bored teenagers, and the young lawyer began to harbor a secret hope for something better than a mediocre result in the competition on Saturday.

Frank had read the articles Scott assigned and made an effort on Tuesday to be a leader, not a dictator, but it didn't last. Toward the end of a productive practice, Scott told the lawyers to work together while he and Kay coached the witnesses on some final points. Unsupervised, Frank ridiculed Yvette so severely that she began to cry. She tried to fight off the tears, but they squeezed their way to the surface anyway, and she ran out of the room. Scott looked up and saw her go past and suspected what had happened. Kay quickly followed Yvette out the door.

Scott jumped up and went to the corner where the four students had been sitting. Janie was also about to cry. Dustin was glaring at Frank, who was making notes on a sheet of paper as if nothing had occurred. The room was totally silent and every eye was on Scott and Frank.

“Tell me what happened,” Scott said in a low, firm voice.

“She can't handle the pressure,” Frank responded. “She needs to toughen up if she expects to do well on Saturday.”

“No!” Dustin said, his face turning red. “You little jerk. If you do that again I'll—”

“Wait,” Scott interrupted. “Janie and Dustin, go over there with the others and get back to work.”

Janie got up and Dustin followed more slowly. Scott sat down next to Frank.

“What are you trying to prove?” he asked. “The competition is on Saturday, and you're trying to blow up the team.”

Frank scoffed. “She'll be all right.”

“You didn't answer me.”

Frank narrowed his eyes. “I don't have anything to prove.” He stopped suddenly.

Scott knew he had something else to say. “Go ahead. Finish.”

Frank shook his head. “No.”

“Do you want to stay on this team?”

Frank shrugged. “You can kick me off, but it would be a mistake.”

“Why? You're hurting more than you're helping at this point.”

Frank stared at Scott, who met his gaze for several seconds. There was something very dark lurking behind Frank Jesup's eyes. Scott saw it, but didn't understand what he detected. It mocked him without words and dared him to take another step. He involuntarily shivered. Frank saw the movement and knew he'd won the invisible struggle. He smiled slightly.

“Don't worry,” the student said. “We'll pull together. I'll say something to Yvette.”

“You'd better,” Scott replied. But the words came out of his mouth without any authority.

Kay returned with Yvette, who was embarrassed at her outburst and ready to accept Frank's glib apology so that she could put the incident behind her. Scott could see in Dustin's eyes that he was less willing to forgive and go on. They finished the session without further incident. Frank gave his closing argument for the plaintiff 's case in front of the whole group. No one clapped, but Scott was impressed.

The students left, and Scott dropped down in a seat in front of Kay's desk.

“I'm tired. That confrontation with Frank wiped me out.”

“How did you convince him to apologize?”

“I didn't. He did it on his own.”

“That's a good sign.”

“I'm not so sure. Frank does things for his own reasons, and I don't think I know what is really motivating him.”

“He wants to prove he's the best and the brightest. He's very competitive.”

Scott remembered the look in Frank's eyes. “Maybe, but there is something else going on inside his head. Did you ever talk to his parents?”

“I've left two messages with his father, but he hasn't called back. I don't have a number for his mother.”

Scott could get Vivian Jesup's phone number from the file at the office. He made a mental note to give it to Kay. He closed his briefcase, and they walked out of the classroom together.

“How are we going to do on Saturday?” she asked.

“Good. I'd especially like to do well against the team coached by my old adversary from Duke.”

“Does that mean we need to win?”

Scott grinned. “Yes.”

He walked Kay to her car and opened the driver's-side door.

“After our Tuesday and Thursday sessions are over, when will I see you?”

Kay's eyes met his. “I don't know. I'm going to spend most of my time with Mrs. Willston. Maybe the three of us could get together.”

Scott held on to the door. “That wouldn't work. Our threesome is you, me, and Nicky.”

Kay smiled. “You're probably right. I couldn't go too long without seeing Nicky. He's special.”

“He feels exactly the same about you.”

Driving home, Scott didn't dwell on the depths of darkness in Frank Jesup's soul. More pleasant thoughts occupied his mind. The following morning, Scott reported his findings about cousin Kendall to Leland Humphrey.

“Good detective work. Are you sure Mrs. Garrison didn't recognize your voice?”

“Yes, I used my salesman voice.”

“Really? Let me hear it.”

“Okay, but it will cost you a $500 set of kitchen knives.”

Mr. Humphrey chuckled. “I'll pass.”

“What should I do next about Kendall?” Scott continued. “I thought about calling him but couldn't come up with a plan of action.”

Mr. Humphrey thought for a moment. “If you don't want to talk to him, the next option is to talk to those who know him. Coworkers, family, the police.”

“Police?”

“Do a criminal record check on him. If it turns up positive, the local authorities might be willing to talk with you.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to meet with Lester before next Monday?” the older lawyer asked.

Scott nodded. “He is coming in on Friday. It's a review session unless something turns up with Kendall. Since there is no plan for Lester to testify, I just want to make sure he understands what is going to happen.”

“Do you want me to be there?”

“No, sir. That won't be necessary. Have you looked over the new jury pool?”

Mr. Humphrey patted a thin stack of papers on the corner of his desk. “It's on my list for this afternoon. I'll dictate a memo of my recommendations.”

Upstairs at his computer, Scott accessed a public-record database for South Carolina. He typed in Kendall's name and requested criminal convictions within the last ten years and didn't get a hit. Then, he realized he typed in Garrison, not Kidd. Correcting his error, he tried again. The server searched for several seconds then came to life. There was a list that ran to the bottom of the screen. Kendall had been a bad boy and a worse man.

Scott leaned closer. He quickly counted seven misdemeanors and two felonies. The misdemeanors included several drunk and disorderly convictions, two DUIs, a petty theft, and selling a stolen gun. The two felonies were more sobering: an assault with a deadly weapon charge that resulted in five years in prison followed by a serious drug charge involving cocaine. If Kendall was about thirty years old, he had spent three-fourths of the time since he was eighteen behind bars.

Several of the charges had been filed in Union County, South Carolina. Scott dialed the phone number for the sheriff 's department and asked to speak to one of the detectives.

“Griffin, here,” a gravel-voiced detective answered.

Scott introduced himself. “I'm interested in information about a man named Kendall Kidd. Do you know him?”

“Are you his lawyer?” the detective responded with obvious interest.

“No. I represent a juvenile in North Carolina, and Kidd's name has come up in the investigation.”

“I'm interested in information about him myself,” the detective replied. “There is an outstanding warrant for his arrest. We've been looking for him since the first of the month.”

“What are the charges?”

“He shot up a black church outside Rock Hill. No one was killed, but he wounded a man in the leg.”

Scott swallowed hard. “Was anyone else involved?”

“Unknown at this point. Kidd was picked out of a photo lineup by several people who were present at the scene. What are the facts of your case?”

“The same, only no injuries. Do you have a picture of him on file?”

“A drawerful. We photograph him every time he's arrested.”

“What color hair does he have?”

“White.”

“White?”

“Yeah, dyed as white as snow, but underneath it's black. I've arrested him several times since he was a juvenile. When we catch him, we're going to try him under the three strikes statute and put him away for good.”

“A life sentence?”

“Without parole.”

“Will you let me know if he's arrested?” Scott asked. “It may be that he should be the one charged in my case here in North Carolina. My client's going to trial on Monday, so call me anytime.”

Scott gave the detective his phone number at home and the office.

“We'll catch him,” the detective replied. “But maybe not in time to help you.”

Scott reported his findings to Mr. Humphrey. The older lawyer was leaning back with his feet on the corner of his desk when Scott came into his office, but by the time Scott got to the information about Kendall Kidd facing a life sentence under the recidivist statute, he was sitting straight up in his chair.

“What do you think?” Scott asked when he finished.

“It's dynamite. We've just got to figure out a way to get it into evidence.”

Scott nodded. “Kendall either fired the shots or encouraged Lester to do so. In either case, he's on the scene with Lester helping him break through any resistance to violating the law and jeopardizing the lives of others.”

“Kendall's relationship with Lester is a lot like me and you.”

“What?” Scott asked in surprise.

“Kendall is mentoring Lester in hate crimes; I'm trying to help you learn how to survive in the courtroom.”

Mr. Humphrey rubbed his hands together. “I'd love to cross-examine Kendall about his prior criminal record. Of course, it would be even better if he's convicted of this latest offense. The similarity is beyond dispute.”

“And the jury wouldn't have any problem accepting the argument that D.A. Davenport should be prosecuting a hardened criminal like Kendall, not an impressionable teenager like Lester. But that's a fantasy case. Kendall Kidd isn't available for cross-examination or convicted of a church shooting.”

Mr. Humphrey leaned back in his chair. “Don't jerk me back to reality yet. I allow myself a few daydreams about cases. If we could write a script for the next few days, I'd recommend a scenario in which Kendall is caught speeding on his way north through Blanchard County. A routine license check turns up the outstanding warrant in South Carolina, and he's arrested. That way he'd be available for transport from our local jail on Monday morning.”

Scott grunted. “Maybe in fiction. I'm still in the real world.”