The Sapphire Brooch (The Celtic Brooch Trilogy Book 2) (77 page)

Only then did Charlotte realize he was putting his reputation on the line for Jack.

Braham poured a cup of coffee and pulled a chair up to the desk, squeezing Charlotte’s knee. She placed her palm on top of his hand and drew small figure eights on the back of his hand with her fingertip. The touch was a tinderbox. Braham shifted in his chair and so did she. She reclaimed her hand, choosing to defer the spark which she knew could quickly roar into a conflagration.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering about,” she said. “Jack came back to find his journal. Did the police confiscate it?”

Braham shook his head. “Edward found the notebook and locked it in the safe. The police found Jack upstairs, dragged him outside, and tossed him into a heavily guarded wagon.”

She cringed. The vision of Jack dragged out by the police and then forced to wear a canvas hood would hammer relentlessly at the edges of her consciousness.

“In the letter Jack wrote, he said he lost the sapphire and was unable to travel again. Do you know anything about it? Did Edward find the brooch?” she asked.

“Jack might have hidden it. Edward said officers tore the house apart while doing a thorough search. When I see Jack, I’ll ask him,” Braham said. “If he believes one of the officers stole it, then I’ll have David and Gaylord get the names of the arresting officers. Once we know who they are, we’ll find the stone.”

“What happens if someone opens it?” Cullen asked.

“The latch is broken. It’s tough to open,” she said. “Most people wouldn’t notice the fine line around the circumference of the stone, and would miss the broken latch. A jeweler, though, would notice both.”

“If a police officer stole the jewelry from an assassin’s room and was caught, he might be implicated. I think he’d hide it until the trial is over.”

Cullen got up and stretched, twisting one way, and then the other. Charlotte compared the two men, their similarities and differences. Cullen moved and spoke with an ease Braham didn’t have. Although she hadn’t known him before the war, she suspected four years of fighting had stolen his spontaneity. Would he ever get it back?

Cullen picked up a paper and handed it to Braham “Do you know where David is today? I’d like him to talk to the people on this list. It includes several newspaper editors.”

“He’ll be back after dark. He doesn’t want to be seen coming and going from here.” Braham pursued the list. “Do you have the motions ready for tomorrow?”

Cullen handed over a stack of documents. “This motion requests General Hartranft remove the hoods because they violate the cruel and unusual punishment clause of the Eighth Amendment. The next document is the writ of habeas corpus to be filed on May 13.”

“And if President Johnson signs an order cancelling the writ?” Braham asked.

“The third document is a petition claiming the President of the United States acted outside the bounds of his constitutional authority by suspending the writ of habeas corpus, and thus violated our client’s Sixth Amendment right to a trial by a jury of his peers.” Cullen frowned. “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen when we file this?”

Braham seemed to consider the question, and then nodded brusquely. “There’ll be an uproar. Can’t be helped.”

“We have to get the hoods removed,” Charlotte said. “It’s…it’s barbaric.”

“The country is angry right now, and there’s no sympathy for the conspirators,” Cullen said.

“I know,” she said, “but General Hartranft is using hoods and heavy iron balls indiscriminately. Some conspirators are hooded, some aren’t. It’s the same with the iron ball. From what we’ve been able to learn, Jack has both. Forcing prisoners to wear hoods is cruel and unusual punishment, and in violation of the Eighth Amendment.” She paused, feeling suddenly helpless, and her throat was tight and scratchy with fear. Her plea emerged as a whisper. “You have to make them understand.”

“We will,” Braham said. “We don’t need all of them, though. We only need five. To convict Jack, they’ll need a majority, and a two-thirds vote brings an automatic sentence of death. We’ll get five to vote for acquittal.”

Braham turned to Cullen “What day will the verdicts be sealed?”

“June 30,” Cullen said. “The prisoners sentenced to death will be told on July 6 and executed on July 7. We have less than eight weeks.”

Charlotte thumbed through the stack of papers, looking for the file with the commissioners’ bios. She had studied them on the train. “I’ve read all the members’ bios, and I think you should speak directly to General Wallace. He has a brilliant legal mind. But what’s more interesting about him is his reputation is tarnished because of what happened at the Battle of Shiloh.”

“I know Wallace. He’s a good soldier. What happened at Shiloh was a misunderstanding.”

“Which is my point,” she said. “He’ll be able to identify with it when you argue Jack’s been wrongfully accused. But you have to get his attention. Our research indicates he was distracted during the trial, drawing sketches and writing letters. He’s a writer and, in fact, will write a famous book titled
Ben Hur.
If we can find one of Jack’s articles, maybe we can get him to read it.”

“Have you seen Jack’s journal in the safe, Cul?”

“I didn’t pay any attention to what was in there. I’ll look.” Cullen ducked under the desk, shuffled papers for a couple of minutes, and then popped up again with a leather-bound journal in his hand. “Is this it?”

Charlotte nodded. “I bought it for him to use when we made the trip last December. Here, give it to me. I’ll read through it to see if there is anything we can use for an article.”

Cullen handed it to her, and she quickly fanned the pages covered with Jack’s legible handwriting, so different from hers, with rounded letters and wide, looping
ls
. Her throat felt tight, and she slammed the journal closed. “I’ll look at it later.”

Braham squeezed her shoulder and must have sensed she didn’t want to talk about something so intensely private as her brother’s journal, so he changed the subject, saying, “We have to keep in mind this commission is not legally bound to follow the common law rules of procedure. They’ll rely on the laws of war instead. They could deny every motion we make. In fact, we should expect it.”

“Then we’ll feed the press,” Charlotte said. “Perhaps the only way Jack will escape this nightmare is by vanishing into thin air.”

“Let’s give the process a chance first,” Braham said.

“Do you see a morality issue here, Braham? Are we cheating?” Cullen asked.

“We have an innocent client, and unless you find a law we’re breaking, I intend to use every document we have. Nothing we do will impact the four who will hang or the four who will be sentenced to prison terms. In answer to your question, Cul…” Braham sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you find evidence leading you to believe we are, don’t tell me.”

83

Washington City, 1865

T
he next morning
Charlotte rose early and dressed in the Union captain’s uniform she’d brought with her. She expected a full-blown battle with Braham the moment he saw her, and she was prepared to fight dirty if necessary. How dirty? Would she go so far as to lock the door between their rooms? No, but she’d threaten.

She tiptoed down the stairs, avoiding the creaky boards, and stood at attention next to the front door. Braham and Cullen were arguing a point of law. It took a moment for her to figure out why their voices were raised and then she realized they were debating. Braham was arguing his case and Cullen was rebutting, pointing out flawed and irrelevant arguments.

Finally, Cullen said. “You’re ready.”

“Thanks for your help. There’s no other lawyer I’d try this case with.”

Two handsomely dressed men, one in uniform and the other in civilian clothes, strode out of the room, both carrying leather briefcases. Their somber demeanor was one of confidence. There was no doubt in her mind Braham and Cullen would win Jack’s case in the press. Convincing the commissioners of his innocence would take more than a tailored suit and a well-prepared case. The generals would require indisputable evidence, and Jack’s attorneys didn’t have it, yet.

“Good morning, Captain. I didn’t know you were waiting. How can I help you? I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Braham said.

Charlotte smiled inwardly. Braham had left her bed only a couple of hours earlier, and he didn’t recognize her. Confident she could pull this off, she stood a little bit taller. “I came to escort you to the Old Arsenal Penitentiary, sir. Secretary Steward thought you’d need an escort today.”

Braham crossed his arms, cocked his head, and glared. “Even if you changed your eye color, lass, I’d recognize you. You’re not going.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and she took a step forward. “You must have me confused with someone else, sir. We’re providing escorts for all known counsel as a courtesy today.”

Braham snatched his slouch hat from the coat tree, frowning. “The third member of Mr. Mallory’s defense team will be down shortly. You can escort him. Good day, Captain.”

Charlotte backed up to the door and spread her hands, guarding the entrance. “Okay, I surrender. But please, let me go today for the arraignment. Jack will ask me later to describe the first day. You
have
to let me. I promise I won’t ask again.”

Braham glanced at Cullen, who had his fist pressed over his mouth, but failed to hide the smile peeking out on either side of his fist. Braham paused for a moment, and his frown deepened. “I’m not trying to be mean, lass, but—”

Cullen walked to Charlotte’s side in front of the door as if to join her in her plea. “It won’t be a full day of court, Braham. Let her go see her brother.”

“Never expected you to abandon me, Cul.” Then Braham’s expression lightened a little. “Seeing Jack so disheveled might make you worry more.”

She wrapped her hand around the porcelain doorknob, smelling victory. “But it might make me worry less.”

“Here’re the terms then. You cannot signal Jack with a cough, sneeze, whistle, or whatever childhood signals you have in your repertoire. There’s too much at stake. I won’t introduce you. You’ll sit in a corner and remain silent. Do you agree with these conditions? And will you give me your word?” He narrowed his eyes obviously watching for any tells signaling she was lying.

If she gave him her word, she’d have to honor it. Could she? Jack could recognize her sneeze in a group of five hundred people. Could she keep from sneezing or sighing or clearing her throat? If she couldn’t, she’d better stay home, which was unacceptable. Without trust, she and Braham had nothing but great sex. “Yes,” she said, taking a resolute breath, and then she experienced a shudder of annoyance over having to submit to his conditions in order to go to court.

He shoved his briefcase into her hands and stomped out the door. “Be useful, then. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

The carriage pulled up as they exited the house. As a senior officer, he climbed in first. She sat on the bench opposite him, studying his mood. His feathery brows were knitted in concentration. Over the last several months she had seen him dying, angry, depressed, forlorn, defeated, abused, aroused, tensed, and playful, but never this singularly focused. He was brilliant and formidable, and the most passionate man she had ever met. Without a doubt, he and Cullen would possess the best legal minds in the courtroom. Having the trial transcript gave them an advantage, but it was their ability to comprehend complex legal issues and apply them to the present situation that revealed their true genius. Her faith in both men was absolute.

They rode in silence down Pennsylvania Avenue, circled the Capitol to Delaware Street, and turned down the hard-packed, dirt road toward the penitentiary. The closer they came to the prison, the more fear knotted every limb and squeezed her chest, making it hurt to breathe. She was no stranger to fear. She’d been in a battle, faced Grant, gone into Castle Thunder, and run through the burning streets of Richmond. Any one of those experiences she’d prefer to face rather than the danger she now faced with mouth dry and heart pounding. There was so much at stake. If she were caught, all three of them might end up incarcerated. Then it would be up to David to blast his way inside to rescue Jack. She wiped her palms on her wool trousers, second-guessing her decision.

Braham took her hand, squeezing it lightly. “Don’t forget to breathe, lass. Focus on why you’re here. If you feel faint, bite your tongue or pinch your arm. We’ll only be there a short time. I’ve got to represent Jack. If I’m worrying about you, I can’t give him my full attention. If you don’t think you can handle it, the driver will take you home.”

She squeezed his hand in return. “You always know when I need a word of encouragement. I don’t know how you know, but you do.”

“I see it in yer eyes.”

“I didn’t know my anxiety showed.”

“Only to me,” he said.

Braham sat back in his seat and stared out the window, tugging on his chin thoughtfully. The corner of Cullen’s mouth tucked in, a small, secret expression indicating he knew more than he was willing to say. She had seen a similar look dozens of times over the last several days. Once Jack was out of prison, she would demand an explanation. Pressing Cullen now for one was pointless. During the hours they’d worked together, she’d learned he was as stubborn as Braham.