The Heavens May Fall (33 page)

“I can’t believe I misjudged him so completely,” Ben said. “I trusted him. I had him in my home as a guest. He ate meals with us—with my daughter. I . . . I just can’t believe it. But why kill her?”

“Maybe Jennavieve was going to break it off,” Lila said. “Maybe that sent Everett over the edge.”

“I’ll get him,” Ben whispered. “I don’t care about the affair. He had no right to take her away from Emma.”

“Now, hold on Ben,” Boady said. “Nobody’s getting anyone here. We’re going to let the law handle this.”

The muscles in Ben’s jaw flexed as he seemed to work through what he now knew about his wife and Everett Kagen.

“Besides, we don’t know that Kagen is the guilty one,” Boady said.

“What do you mean ‘we don’t know’?” Ben gave Boady a beseeching gesture with his hands. “Who else would have killed Jennavieve? It had to be him.”

“I haven’t ruled out your sister-in-law. She had the most to gain out of all this. Or it could have been someone your wife sued and pissed off. Hell, it could have been the angry troll for all we know. Maybe . . .”

Boady stopped talking as a curious notion stepped out of the shadows. The idea of Mrs. Kagen being the killer had never occurred to him. It brought him back to that day in the first trial when Everett dried his emotions every time he looked at his wife. Boady gave a thin voice to those thoughts as they formed in his head. “Maybe she found out about the affair.” The room went quiet as that new possibility hung in the air.

Lila was the one to break that silence. “But Malena Gwin said she saw a man get out of the red sedan.”

“No,” Boady said. He picked up a legal pad full of notes and began throwing the pages back until he found what he was searching for. “Here it is. Her actual testimony was that she saw a man get out of the car. Then she said ‘at least I think it was a man.’”

“That’s right,” said Ben. “I forgot all about that.”

“Is it possible?” Lila asked.

Before they could discuss it further, the bailiff tapped at the door and stuck his head in. “The judge wants everyone back in court in ten minutes,” he said.

Boady tossed his notepad on the table. “I need to clear my head,” he said. “I’m going to find a quiet corner and focus on my summation. I’ll see you all in the courtroom in ten.”

The bailiff let Boady out of the holding cell. Boady then walked through the courtroom and out into the hall to find a quiet space where he could concentrate. Even though it was late in the day, other cases were still being heard on that floor and all of the conference rooms were filled. So Boady made his way to a stairwell and ducked inside. He had to walk up a flight to find a clean step to sit on, but he found one and took a seat.

There he began to catalogue the facts he would hammer home to the judge in his closing argument. He preferred not to use notes, relying instead on mnemonic devices to retain the evidence in the correct order for his presentation. He’d barely gotten through half of the first trial when he heard voices approaching in the stairwell below him. He muttered a curse that his seclusion would be interrupted. The voices grew closer and he thought he recognized Dovey’s.

The door opened and he heard Dovey say, “Step in here for a second.”

“Are you telling me that you lost this case?” It was Anna Adler-King. “You said you had this. It was a lock. Those were your words. And now you’re telling me Ben Pruitt is going to walk?”

“I can’t help it,” Dovey said in a hushed tone. “It’s not my fault that Kagen took the Fifth. He made himself look guilty by doing that. Some things are beyond my control.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you are the kind of person I want to see as a judge,” Anna said coldly. “I went to bat for you, Frank, and this is what I get?”

“Judge Ransom hasn’t ruled yet. He might—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Frank.” Anna had stopped whispering and began to scold Frank Dovey like he was a child. “We both know where this case is going. You need to find a way to turn this case around. You hear me? If you want my support, you need to show me that you can keep your word.”

“How do you expect me to do that? We’re doing closing arguments in five minutes.”

“That’s up to you,” Anna hissed. “The way things stand right now, the report I’m going to give the governor won’t look good for you.”

The sound of Anna Adler-King’s shoes scraping on the grit in the stairwell echoed off the walls as she turned to leave. Boady heard Dovey follow her through the door as well. Boady peeked over the edge of the steps to make certain he was again alone before he stood up and brushed off the seat of his pants.

Dovey was in a hot seat. But with closing arguments about to start, he had no options, at least none that Boady could see. As Boady walked back to the courtroom, he contemplated what he might do if he were in Dovey’s shoes. Every option came back to the same problem—the trial was over. Dovey had no rebuttal witnesses. He had no further investigation. Kagen had pled the Fifth and was off-limits. Even if Dovey could figure out a way to get to Kagen, he had no time.

Boady smiled at the thought that Dovey’s judgeship hinged on the outcome of a case that everyone knew the man had lost. Boady normally didn’t take enjoyment in the downfall of others, but Dovey was a political animal, and political animals deserved no sympathy in Boady’s view. And now Dovey was cornered, with his world collapsing around him. Boady reminded himself, as he walked into the courtroom, that cornered animals are the most dangerous animals of all.

Chapter 57

Boady didn’t have time to share with Ben what he’d overheard in the stairwell. He’d barely made it to his table when Judge Ransom entered and called the trial back to order.

“Is the State ready to proceed with closing argument?” the judge asked.

“Your Honor, I’d like to be heard on that before we continue.”

Here we go
, Boady thought.

“Your Honor,” Dovey began, “as you may know, this case has received a great deal of attention in the community, especially given the nature of who the deceased is. She and her family have been the cornerstone of some of this state’s most important charities.”

Ben leaned over and whispered into Boady’s ear, “What’s he doing?”

Boady whispered back, “He’s panicking. Anna has his nuts in a vice and she’s squeezing. He can’t afford to lose this case.”

Dovey continued. “I would also point out that the procedural posture of this case has been . . . well, a little unusual, to say the least. Because we had two separate trials, some of the testimony necessary for this Court to render a just verdict came several weeks ago. Also, with this Court’s ruling that none of Mr. Kagen’s previous testimony is admissible, well, that makes matters even more complicated. I believe it would be appropriate to permit the parties to submit their summation in writing, give us time to marshal our facts and put them in a more-coherent form before you rule. Maybe have them submitted by the end of the week?”

“What?” Ben Pruitt’s voice carried well beyond the defense table. “What’s he doing?”

Boady put a hand up to shush his client. He leaned into Ben’s ear. “It’s a stall tactic.”

“No kidding,” Ben whispered back. “But I can’t go back to jail again. We’ve won this thing. It’s not fair.”

Ransom looked perplexed. “Mr. Sanden, would you like to be heard on Mr. Dovey’s request?”

“One second, Your Honor,” Boady turned back to Ben. “He knows he’s lost the case. I heard him. He and Anna were arguing about it during the break. She’s pissed and she’s ending her support for his judgeship if he doesn’t pull a rabbit out of his hat. He needs time to find that rabbit, so he’s asking for written submission to get time to figure something out. That’s all this is about.”

“Mr. Sanden?” the judge repeated.

Boady stood up. “Your Honor, there is no legal precedent supporting the State’s request for written summations. Mr. Dovey is doing a rain dance in the hopes of creating his own rain delay. It’s improper, and I would ask that we proceed with closing arguments here and now.”

Judge Ransom’s face took on a look of genuine curiosity. “Mr. Sanden,” the judge said, “are you saying that I’m prohibited from letting the State do a written submission? Because I agree, I know of no case that says I have to allow it. But at the same time, I’m not aware of a case that says I can’t. If you are aware of such a case, I’d be interested to hear about it.”

“No, Your Honor, I am not aware of a case saying that it can’t be done. But I don’t believe that this is about wanting to do a written submission. I believe that this is about stalling the outcome of this case. I think—”

Dovey jumped to his feet. “Your Honor, that’s an outrageous accusation. I demand an apology. As an officer of the court, I—”

“Mr. Dovey!” Judge Ransom shouted back. “Take your seat until the Court addresses you.”

Dovey stood, glaring at Boady for a few seconds before taking his seat. Boady stared back and thought he saw a flicker of panic in Dovey’s eyes, a brief spark of recognition that Dovey knew that Boady saw through him.

“If I may, Your Honor,” Boady continued. “I am not saying that the Court cannot grant Mr. Dovey’s request. I am arguing that the Court should not grant it. Not only is it disingenuous, but there’s a man’s freedom at stake here. I submit that Mr. Dovey can see the writing on the wall and wants one last chance to find a savior for his case before the record closes. Not only that, but my client, a man wrongfully convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, will be forced to wait for his freedom to be restored to him, while Mr. Dovey engages in this fantasy. That, Your Honor, would be a travesty. Mr. Pruitt should not have to spend one more night locked up.”

Judge Ransom sat back in his chair. Dovey started to stand, but the judge put up a hand to stop him. He stroked his chin as he contemplated a decision. Then he leaned back up to his bench. “Mr. Sanden, I’m inclined to grant the State’s request. Mr. Dovey has a right to present his case to its fullest extent.”

Boady could see Dovey, in his periphery, breathe a sigh of relief.

“But,” the judge continued, “the State’s written submission will be due tomorrow, not the end of the week. Mr. Dovey, you can e-mail your written submission to me by noon. Mr. Sanden can reply by 2:00 p.m. Any rebuttal from the State will be here by 3:00. I’ll have my decision filed by the end of the day tomorrow.”

Boady looked at the clock on the wall. It was after 4 p.m. Just twenty-four hours until Ben would be free. He knew the verdict that Judge Ransom would deliver. Hell, everyone in the courtroom knew that Ben would be acquitted, but because of Frank Dovey’s political ambitions, they would have to wait.

Then a thought struck him, and he rose. “Your Honor, I move that the Court grant Mr. Pruitt a furlough pending the verdict.”

Dovey hit his fist on the table as he rose. “Absolutely not, Your Honor.” Dovey yelled his objection. “This man is a convicted murderer. You cannot release him from custody—”

“Mr. Dovey!” Ransom’s voice boomed. “You will maintain decorum in my courtroom. I will not tell you again.”

“But, Your Honor,” Dovey said in a pleading tone. “I cannot allow this man to be put back on the streets.”

“Mr. Dovey, this is not your decision to make,” Judge Ransom said. “I can grant a furlough if I see fit. You’re the one who wants to delay this trial for written submissions. I’ve granted that request, but I feel that justice demands that I follow my conscience and my judgment on Mr. Sanden’s request as well. I’m going to grant the defendant’s motion for a furlough.”

Dovey looked over his shoulder to where Anna Adler-King sat in the gallery. It seemed to Boady that he was seeking some reassurance he would not be held accountable for Judge Ransom’s decision to release Ben. If that was what he was looking for, he didn’t get it. Anna Adler-King stood and walked out of the courtroom.

Ransom adjourned the trial for the day, and Boady, Ben, and Lila sat motionless as the courtroom cleared. Once they were alone, Ben leapt at Boady and hugged him so fiercely that Boady thought he might lose consciousness.

“What just happened?” Lila asked.

“We won,” Boady said.

“But he didn’t issue his verdict,” Lila said.

Ben spoke. “He furloughed me. If he was going to find me guilty, he wouldn’t furlough me.”

“Congratulations, Lila,” Boady said. “You just won your first murder case.”

Ben’s knees seemed to give out and he fell back into his chair. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “I mean . . . I hoped and I prayed for this, but in the back of my mind . . .” Ben’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t wait to see Emma again.”

“And I can tell you that Diana can’t wait to bring her back here from Missouri. They’ve been down there longer than we had planned. By the way, we didn’t tell Emma anything about what was happening in court. We wanted to wait until . . . well, until today—until we got you freed. Now, let’s get you processed out of jail.” Boady reached for his coat and began emptying the pockets. “It’s a bit colder today than when they arrested you. You’ll need a coat.” Boady handed his coat to Ben.

“No, I can’t,” Ben said. “You need it.”

“I can go buy a new one. I have that two hundred grand in my bank account, just waiting to be spent. I can take the skyway to Macy’s—won’t even have to step outside.”