By Reason of Insanity (31 page)

Rosemarie could tell by the silence that Marc didn't particularly care for that answer. She thanked him for his time and hung up the phone. The second piece of the puzzle was now firmly in place.

63

Catherine O'Rourke felt herself slipping deeper into depression but couldn't seem to stop it. Everything about jail was designed to depersonalize, humiliate, and desensitize. If it wasn't for Tasha, she probably would have gone totally berserk.

Even visiting hours compounded the despondency. The steady stream of visitors had dwindled to a few loyal friends and Cat's mom and sister. In a couple of days, her family would have to return to Pennsylvania. "We'll come down just about every weekend," Kelsey promised. But Cat knew the realities--money was getting tight. Kelsey had to get back to work. Trips to Virginia were long and costly.

Catherine continued taking her antidepressants. Her psychiatrist assured Cat she would work through this. The worst thing was that Cat had not seen Marc Boland in nearly a week, and Quinn Newberg had quit taking her collect calls. Updates on her case came from the news or other inmates.

Through it all, she wondered and worried. Was there really another Catherine, one responsible for the murder of infants, defense lawyers, and criminals? Why had the visions stopped? If she wasn't the Avenger, who was?

Catherine was a woman of action, but here she sat, helpless, watching the minutes slowly tick by as she waited for her trial date. If she lost and faced a lifetime prison sentence, she would seriously consider taking her own life. If she truly was the Avenger, who would care?

I can't think that way.
But it wasn't that easy. The more she obsessed about the case, the more she isolated herself. And the more that happened, the more depressed she became. She couldn't remember the last time she had genuinely laughed. Cat felt trapped inside a spiral of misery, her mind eroding by the hour.

Even if she won the trial, there would be a significant percentage of Americans who would always believe she was a serial killer. Her best-case scenario was living like O.J. Simpson, enduring the scorn of good people everywhere.

Maybe she could start over again in some remote Latin American country or someplace in Europe. But first, she had to get through today. And then tonight. And then the day after that and the day after that.

Catherine O'Rourke, suspected serial killer. It seemed at times like she could barely remember what life had been like before this nightmare. The sun. The freedom. Friends who believed in her. A promising career.

All gone. And maybe her sanity along with them.

Late Monday afternoon, Quinn suffered one final blow before his scheduled court appearance with Annie. It came as he entered his office building, pushing through a few persistent TV reporters who had set up shop in the lobby.

"Do you have any comment on Claude Tanner's filing in family court?" one of the reporters asked.

"No comment," Quinn said, wondering what the man was talking about. He and Annie had decided to keep the TV off in the condo. He'd never heard of anyone named Claude Tanner.

"Does your client deny that Mr. Tanner is Sierra's father?"

Quinn stopped dead in his tracks, his world suddenly spinning.
Sierra's father?

"No comment," Quinn said more tersely than before. He resumed walking toward the elevator, hoping he didn't look as flustered as he felt.

"Will Ms. Newberg contest his right to custody?"

Quinn whirled and shot the reporter a withering look. "Of course," he said. "I don't know if this man is Sierra's biological father or not. I do know that Sierra's biological father wanted nothing to do with his child from day one, at least until the smell of money apparently became irresistible."

"Were you aware he asked for a DNA test?" asked a second reporter.

"No comment," Quinn said, reminding himself that this was a game he could not win. He turned and walked away.

Waiting for the elevator, Quinn mulled over this new complication. Sierra's father could not have picked a worse time to reappear. The thought of the man swooping in and acting concerned about his child's welfare infuriated Quinn. He wondered if Tanner realized that Richard Hofstetter's estate didn't amount to much. Even if Annie was convicted and disqualified from inheriting the money, Sierra, as second in line, wouldn't be getting rich. The proceeds from Hofstetter's life insurance policy would be used to pay his debts first, leaving precious little for either Annie or Sierra.

If Tanner thought he could waltz into this mess and obtain custody of his daughter without a fight, he had another think coming to him. Short of murder, Quinn would do whatever it took to protect Sierra.

64

Reporters jammed themselves into the limited seats of Courtroom 16D on Tuesday morning, bringing back memories of Quinn's bitter battle to free Annie, which had ended in a mistrial three months earlier.

Carla Duncan walked down the aisle of the courtroom and came over to shake Quinn's hand. "Please reconsider," she said, referring to the phone call Quinn had made rejecting the proposed plea.

"We haven't changed our minds," Quinn said.

Carla nodded and pursed her lips, looking dreadfully solemn. During the phone call, she had explained to Quinn that she would move to revoke Annie's bail if Annie didn't take the plea.

Carla turned and pointed to a man in the third row. He was probably in his thirties, with shaggy dark hair, a stud in his left ear, and an ill-fitting suit. "That's Officer Northrop," Carla said. "He works vice and narcotics and has a few friends on the seedier side of town. He gave me these." She handed Quinn a couple of fresh-looking visas. Quinn's heart did a nose-dive.

Carla gave Quinn a chance to open the visas and scan the pictures of Annie and Sierra, paired with two unfamiliar names and Social Security numbers. She lowered her voice and continued. "If I'm asked about this, I'll deny I said it. But about half the fake ID operations in the city are part of an underground network that provides leads to the cops from time to time in exchange for being left alone. A few times a year, they might come to us with known felons, folks who might fit a terrorist profile, those types of things. A guy named Keshon, who is under subpoena to testify today, put a couple of fake IDs together for your sister the day after Sierra's suicide attempt." Carla nodded toward the visas in Quinn's hands. "He thought the woman looked familiar so he made some duplicate copies, found her picture on the Internet, and then came to Officer Northrop."

It took all of Quinn's willpower not to react. He felt a stunning sense of betrayal. The bond hearing was going to be hard enough just based on the fact that they wanted Sierra to leave the Schlesingers and move in with him. But this. He opened the visas again and stared at the forlorn look on Annie's face. This was devastating. "I'll talk to my client," Quinn said.

Carla returned to her counsel table, and Quinn sat down next to Annie. He placed the visas on the table. "You've got some explaining to do," he said.

Big tears formed in Annie's eyes as she stared at the visas. "If I were going to use them, I would have been gone by now." Her voice was thick with emotion. "I was scared. I got them the day after Sierra's suicide attempt. I didn't know what to do. I just knew I couldn't lose my daughter."

Quinn wanted to tell his sister how stupid she'd been. He had a sudden urge to let her have it right then and there, to let her know how incredibly difficult she was making this case, to emphasize how much this would cost them. But Annie was already devastated--Quinn could see it in her slumping shoulders and the tears spilling from her eyes.

"We can't win this hearing now," Quinn said softly. "If we even try, Carla will poison the potential jury pool with this evidence that you were trying to flee the country. The issue of Sierra's suicide will come out in all its glory--"

"Quinn." Annie placed a hand on his arm. "I'm ready to go to jail until the trial. Just promise me that you'll take care of Sierra."

"I told you I would," Quinn said. "You should have just trusted me."

A few minutes later, Judge Strackman took the bench.

Carla rose to speak first. "As the court knows," she began, "this hearing was originally scheduled for the court to approve a plea agreement. However, in the interim, the defendant has apparently had a change of mind and--"

"Is that true?" Strackman turned a menacing look toward Quinn.

Quinn stood, once again regretting the dollars his firm had put into the coffers of Strackman's last opponent. "Yes, Your Honor."

Strackman hesitated and frowned, as if he couldn't believe his ears. "I'm sure you and your client have your reasons, Mr. Newberg, but it seems to me that Ms. Duncan was being exceedingly generous. This is, after all, a case you nearly lost the first time around."

"I'm aware of that, Your Honor," Quinn replied, choosing his words carefully. "However, there are other considerations impacting our choice."

Strackman frowned even more deeply but apparently decided not to push further. It would be bad form for a judge to publicly bully a defendant into taking a plea. "If that's your client's decision, Mr. Newberg, then let's set a new trial date."

"Before we do that," Carla Duncan chimed in, still standing, "the state would like the opportunity to address the matter of Ms. Newberg's bail."

"For what reason?"

"The terms of the bail agreement have been violated," Carla Duncan explained. "Sierra has been staying with Quinn and Anne Newberg at a Signature Towers condominium owned by Mr. Newberg. Moreover, we have recently discovered evidence that Ms. Newberg poses a substantial flight risk."

"Mr. Newberg," Strackman said, his face reddening, "the court was very clear about the terms of your client's bond."

Quinn took a deep breath. "May we approach?" he asked.

The judge nodded, and the lawyers trudged to the judge's bench.

Strackman put his hand over the mike, and Quinn launched into his explanation. Sierra Newberg had attempted suicide. When she was released from the hospital, she needed to stay with her mom. Quinn motioned toward Dr. Mancini in the first row and explained that she would be glad to testify about Sierra's need to stay with Annie. "If she testifies," Quinn said, "I'd want to do it in your office with a sealed record. I'm not willing to have my psychiatric expert discuss Sierra's suicide attempt in front of the entire world."

Quinn took a quick breath before addressing the fake visas, but Carla Duncan interrupted.

"I sympathize with Sierra," Carla said, moving even closer to the judge. "But when the court sets bond, it cannot do so on the basis of family members who need time with an accused felon. Half the women in jail have children who desperately need them. Plus, Your Honor, as I mentioned, we have very strong evidence that Ms. Newberg was preparing to flee the jurisdiction."

Strackman leaned forward, all ears, as Carla told him about Annie getting a fake visa for herself and Sierra.

The judge turned his icy stare on Quinn. "Is this true?"

"Like any mother, Annie's first reaction was to protect her daughter. Yes, my client obtained false IDs. But that was last week. She didn't use them. She realized that it was best to work within the system."

"Return to your seats," ordered Strackman. "You've made this easy."

Quinn didn't move. "With respect, Your Honor, if you are prepared to rule against Annie on the basis of violating a bail agreement, then we'll just revoke her request to remain free on bond. I don't want all this incriminating evidence talked about in open court where it will poison the jury pool."

"Return to your seat," said Strackman, his face unyielding. "Your client should have thought about that before she got this fake ID."

For the next several minutes, Quinn simmered while Strackman set up his ruling on the bail issue. He had Carla Duncan recite the evidence she was prepared to produce about Annie's violation of the terms of her bond and her procurement of fake visas. He asked Quinn if he disputed any of the statements, and Quinn told the court he didn't dispute the factual accuracies of the statements. Based on those stipulations, and without even mentioning Sierra's attempted suicide, Strackman ruled that Annie had violated the terms of her parole and would have to remain in jail pending trial.

"It's okay," Annie whispered to Quinn. "I'll be all right."

"I'd like to try this case before I leave the bench," said Strackman. "But the only open dates I've got are during the last few weeks before my retirement. What if we started the trial on August twenty-first?"

"I can make it work," Carla Duncan said.

Unfortunately, Quinn's calendar looked open on the twenty-first as well, unless . . .

Just yesterday, Marc Boland had obtained a trial date in Catherine O'Rourke's case. Boland and Boyd Gates had played a game of legal chicken, both claiming they wanted a speedy trial--Boland because he wanted to prove his client's innocence and get her released from jail as soon as possible; Gates because the case was "open and shut." Gates boasted that the commonwealth could be ready to try the case later that week.

The court had taken the lawyers at their chest-thumping word and set the trial for August eighteenth, just a few months out. Quinn seized on that now.