The Perfect Game (14 page)

Chapter Thirty-eight

(Friday afternoon, September 1)

As Boyd drove Lauren back to her apartment, they discussed the day's testimony.

“At least Jake donated that twenty-five thousand dollar refund to MADD,” Lauren mused.

“Didn't Candace tell you?” he asked.

“Tell me what?”

“I'm sorry. I thought you already knew. Jake never paid that donation to MADD.”

“What do you mean? I was there when he pledged it.”

“Oh, he pledged it alright. He just never paid it.”

Lauren thought of her own thousand-dollar check that night. The one that had been inspired by Jake's incredible generosity. The one she could ill-afford. She shook her head.

“Do you think Pratt and Fisher believe Jake's innocent?” Lauren wondered aloud.

“There's no way defense attorneys can believe
all
of their clients are innocent. Prosecutors will only take on the surest cases so, realistically speaking, most defendants are guilty. To be fair, I guess defense attorneys must
occasionally
believe their client is innocent. Hell, those guys might actually believe Jake is innocent. He's a very convincing liar; I can attest to that. But the evidence against him is compelling. And Pratt and Fisher don't want to know if he's guilty. It's easier to defend him if they believe that he is not.”

“But he was convincing when you guys talked to him?”

“Absolutely. That was before we had so much evidence against him, of course. But he agreed to talk to us without an attorney present. And he was incredibly relaxed. He certainly seemed adamant that you were guilty.”

“Did you think I was guilty?”

“No, I never believed it, but Wallace entertained the idea for a while.”

“Wallace thought I did it?”

“Not necessarily, but he wasn't willing to rule you out either. He's a very solid detective. He doesn't guess, doesn't operate on hunches, doesn't take into account his personal feelings. He's all about the cold hard facts and the facts ultimately pointed to Jake.”

“When he came to the hospital last October, I thought for sure he was coming to arrest me.”

“You? You never proved to be a viable suspect.”

“Then why'd you search my apartment?”

“Sorry, I thought Candace already told you all this. During the investigation, we established an anonymous tip line. As soon as it launched, we started getting regular calls from some guy who insisted you did it. At first, he didn't have any specifics to back up his accusations, but he kept upping the ante. He said you had confessed your involvement to him. When that didn't work, he called to say you showed him a ring stolen from Liz. Acting on that tip, we got the warrant to search your apartment. You know who the anonymous male caller was?”

“Jake?”

“Yep. After his arrest, we were able to establish that he had been calling into the anonymous tip line from his cell phone after blocking the number. Pretty weird for a guy who claimed to be cooperating with us. Why not call us directly?”

“So they're going to admit those phone calls into evidence?”

“Unfortunately, no. Since the tip line was advertised as anonymous, we're obliged to protect the identity of the callers. But we have more than enough evidence to convict him.” Boyd paused and shook his head in disbelief. “I can't believe you thought we were going to arrest you.”

“I wasn't so sure you guys knew what you were doing.”

Boyd laughed. “I wanted to come notify you myself, but Wallace let me serve the arrest warrant since this is my first homicide case. That was really generous. In a huge case like this, most lead detectives would hoard the glory for themselves. You know, Wallace wanted to become a police detective because his father was falsely convicted for murder.”

“Really?”

“He doesn't talk about it much, but his father did two years of prison time before some cop uncovered the truth and got his dad released from prison.”

“Wow.”

“So, he's a real stickler for facts. He won't identify somebody as a suspect until he is positive about the evidence.”

“What about you? Why'd you become an officer?”

Boyd sighed heavily and Lauren realized she had hit a nerve. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry.”

“No, it's okay. My grandfather was murdered and his killer was never caught.”

“Wow,” was all Lauren could manage for the second time in a matter of seconds.

“My grandpa had a huge heart and used to pick up hitchhikers. Sometimes, he'd go well out of his way to get them to their destination. We think he gave a ride to the wrong person. Somebody shot him, dumped him in the desert, and stole his car and his wallet.”

“And they never caught the guy?”

“Nope. They found Grandpa's car a few days later engulfed in flames down near Tucson. I was twelve years old and I resolved to become a cop and track down the killer. Sounds silly, huh?”

“Not at all.”

“The case is still open. I pulled the file, but there's not much to go on. The fire destroyed any physical evidence that might have existed.”

Lauren didn't know what to say so she patted his hand.

“What about the driver that killed your parents?” he asked. “What happened to him?”

“It was a her. Angela Martin. She was twenty-four years old and it was her third drunk driving arrest, though she liked to remind everybody that this was the first time anybody had ever been
hurt
. She pled guilty to two counts of vehicular manslaughter and got sentenced to two ten-year prison terms, but the judge let her serve them concurrently. She got out of prison after only seven years for good behavior.” Lauren laughed bitterly. “Good behavior. Like a kindergartner who doesn't eat paste.”

She paused for a moment before continuing. “My dad was declared dead at the scene. My mom was still alive when she got to the hospital, but the doctors weren't able to control the bleeding in time. I guess that's why I ended up in emergency medicine.”

“Weird, huh?” Boyd asked softly.

Lauren nodded. “You, me, and Wallace. All chasing the ghosts of our pasts.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

(Tuesday, September 5)

As a matter of routine, the bank records were already on the Prosecution's list of discovery. However, they took on new significance when they learned Bourk had deposited Liz's check on the day before her murder. Boyd spent part of his weekend re-interviewing Cheryl Davis, the bank manager who would be testifying about the Wakefields' bank records.

“Boyd's my secret weapon with female witnesses,” Candace confided to Lauren as they convened back in court on Tuesday morning. “He charms them into a cooperative state of mind.”

Ms. Davis testified that Liz's check to Bourk had cleared the Wakefields' joint checking account on Friday, July twenty-second. Coincidentally, Mr. Bourk used the same bank as the Wakefields. Liz couldn't have known the check would post so quickly.

Candace asked a follow-up question, “Ms. Davis, can you tell us if and when the account was checked online between the dates of July twenty-second and July twenty-third?

“Yes, it was checked one time on those dates. Somebody pulled the account balance on July twenty-third at 6:33 pm and then they clicked on check #1273 to view the details.”

“So, the person who accessed the online system on July twenty-third would have seen check #1273 was a twenty-five thousand-dollar check payable to Ronald Bourk.”

“Yes.”

Pratt did a solid job of muddying the water. “It could have been Mrs. Elizabeth Wakefield who opened the online system of July twenty-third, couldn't it?”

“Yes, it could have been anybody who had the account number and password,” Ms. Davis agreed.

Ms. Davis was the last of the motive witnesses, those called to demonstrate for the jury that the Wakefield marriage was far from the perfect union.

Having established motive, Candace moved on to her time line witnesses. William Dallas was tall and thin with graying hair. Despite the one-hundred-plus degree temperatures outside, he wore a tennis sweater and slacks to court. A neighbor of Jake's, Mr. Dallas testified he saw Jake's red convertible hurriedly exiting the community gates at about seven-fifteen on the evening of July twenty-third. This was important because Jake had told police he left for the airport at six-thirty and the time of death was estimated between seven and eleven p.m.

Under Pratt's careful cross-examination, Mr. Dallas was forced to admit he couldn't be one hundred percent certain the car he had seen was Jake's car. On re-direct, Candace elicited confirmation that the car was the same make, model, and color.

“You'd have to be an idiot to believe another convertible red Porsche Spyder just happened to be in the neighborhood that night,” Candace muttered as they were leaving court that evening.

Boyd was driving Lauren home when she received a phone call from an unfamiliar number.

“I'll come right away,” she said in a trembling voice.

Boyd expressed concern the moment she hung up. “Everything okay?”

“No. That was the nurse at Desert Pointe. My grandmother is being sent to the hospital for chest pain.” Her eyes welled up.

“Which hospital?”

“Scottsdale Shea.”

“I can take you there now.”

“No, that's too much to ask. Just take me home, I can drive myself out there.”

“That makes no sense. Taking you home first is going to cost you too much time in this traffic.”

Lauren reassured herself that Boyd lived in Scottsdale himself. He could drop her off at the hospital on his way home, reducing his own commute time. Having eased her own mind about Boyd, she resumed worrying about Rose-ma.

Boyd navigated quiet side streets in order to make better time. “Is she in the emergency room?”

“She must be. They were transporting her by ambulance.”

He pulled into the circular drive of the ER. Lauren flung the car door open before the car had even reached a complete stop.

Lauren paused outside the open car door. “Thanks for the ride. I'll see you in the morning.” She shut the door and rushed into the ER lobby. She identified herself to the receptionist, who led her back to one of the trauma bays.

Her grandmother looked tiny, wrapped up in soft white blankets on the hospital bed. She was hooked up to a pulse oximeter, cardiac monitor, and automated blood pressure cuff. She smiled weakly when Lauren entered. “Here's my favorite doctor. How are you, dear?”

“I'm fine, Rose-ma. More importantly, how are you?”

“Oh, nothing worth reporting. Just a little discomfort in my chest and the Desert Pointe staff insisted upon sending me here. By ambulance no less! I'm feeling much better now. It was probably just heartburn.”

“Better safe than sorry, Rose-ma. I'm so glad you're okay.”

“Enough about me. How are you? I hope you haven't been working too hard. I always worried about the way you girls went without sleep, so distracted by homework and sports and boys. Do you remember the time Liz dreamed her alarm went off in the middle of the night and she got up, showered, and got herself ready for school? I found her eating breakfast at two o'clock in the morning!”

Lauren remembered. “Her dream was so convincing she argued with you about the right time for fifteen minutes before she noticed it was still dark outside. The hubbub woke me up and we all had some o.j. before going back to bed.”

They were laughing at the memory when the receptionist returned. “Excuse me for interrupting, but there's a gentleman asking for you.” Boyd was lurking in the hallway beyond the curtain.

“Detective Boyd, come on in. Do you remember my grandmother?”

“Of course I do,” Boyd said as he stepped into the room. He briefly took Rose-ma's small hand in his large one. “It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Rose. It's good to see you looking so well. You gave Lauren quite a scare.”

“Well, Lauren scares easily.”

Blood warmed Lauren's cheeks as Rose-ma and Boyd shared a laugh at her expense.

Boyd turned to Lauren. “I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to let you know I was here. I'll wait in the waiting room until you're ready to go and then give you a ride back to your place.”

“Thank you, but that's unnecessary. You should head home. I can catch a cab…” Lauren was interrupted by the clanging alarms of her grandmother's cardiac monitor.

Instinctively, Lauren flew into action. She hit the code button located on a nearby wall and started CPR. “Tell a staff member I need a crash cart stat,” Lauren directed to Boyd. She continued chest compressions as the room quickly became a flurry of activity around her. An ER doctor began calling out orders. He was preparing to shock her grandmother's chest with the defibrillator. Lauren stopped chest compressions as he shouted, “Clear!”

The physician was still tending to Rose-ma. “Get the family members out of here.” Lauren and Boyd were hustled unceremoniously back to the lobby, Lauren listening intently for the distinctive monitor sounds that would indicate Rose-ma's heart had resumed beating. She didn't hear them.

Her muscles were trembling from the rush of adrenaline and she paced the waiting room. Boyd stood nearby, respectfully allowing her time to herself.

Moments felt like hours, but finally a nurse emerged from the treatment area. She invited Lauren into a private triage room. Boyd came along without waiting for an invitation and squeezed Lauren's hand supportively as they took seats.

“The doctors were able to restart your grandmother's heart. They've taken her into emergency surgery where they'll work to insert a stent to restore the flow of blood to her heart. The doctors are doing all they can, but the cardiac enzymes were extremely elevated, indicating a significant cardiac event. At her age, the anesthesia alone can be a considerable risk. You should prepare for the possibility she may not survive the surgery. I recommend you ask the rest of the family to meet you here. The surgery will take at least an hour. The surgeon will come out to talk to you when it's over.”

Lauren felt numb as she and Boyd returned to the waiting room. She pulled out her cell phone, but was harshly reminded she had no family left to call. Instead, she called Stone at work to let him know she wouldn't be in for her shift that evening. “You should get going, Detective Boyd. This is going to take awhile. I'm sure you have better things to do than babysit me.” She found herself wondering about his home life, a topic she knew very little about.

“You can stop trying to get rid of me. I'm not going anywhere until we know your grandmother is all right. But you can do something for me.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Will you please stop calling me Detective Boyd? I feel as old as Wallace when you do that. You can call me Ryan.”

“I'll try.”

“Do you want to get some dinner?”

Lauren shook her head. “There's no way I could eat right now.”

“Why don't we go down to the hospital chapel?”

Lauren exhaled audibly. “I don't really trust God anymore. He's let me down so many times already.”

Lauren saw no judgment on Ryan's face, only compassion. “Then come with me and I'll pray enough for both of us.” He led her down a series of hallways until they reached the chapel, which was devoid of other visitors. It was a small room with wooden pews filling the majority of the space. The faux stained glass windows were illuminated by backlit light bulbs, no matter the time of day.

Boyd crossed himself as they entered and Lauren followed suit, realizing he was Catholic himself. Somehow, this revelation comforted her. He steered her to the front pew, both of them kneeling in the aisle before taking their seats. Ryan bowed his head and shut his eyes. Was Lauren willing to confide in God? She decided to try.

Heavenly Father, I beg you, please don't take Rose-ma from me right now. I know I'll have to let her go at some point, but not yet, not right now. Without her, I will have nothing. I would be lost. I know I haven't been the most faithful of servants. I'm trying to renew my trust in you. I know I can't make my faith contingent upon you answering this prayer, but please don't take her from me. I may not deserve your grace, but Rose-ma does. She's the most faithful person I know.

Tears flowed freely down Lauren's face as she imagined a world without Rose-ma. Ryan wrapped his arms around her and let her cry until she could cry no more. Afterwards, they returned to the waiting room to await news from the surgeon. Ryan's cell phone rang several times. Most times, he hit the ignore button and returned the phone to his pocket. But on one occasion, he murmured to Lauren, “Sorry, I have to take this.” He retreated to the corner of the room to take the call in relative privacy. Lauren could not resist the urge to eavesdrop, but he spoke in subdued tones and she couldn't make out much from his end of the conversation.

Soon he returned to the seat next to her. “Sorry about that. It was work.”

“If they need you, you should go.”

“I'm not leaving here until the doctor comes out to talk to you. Anyway, it was nothing urgent. They always call me when they have trouble with the computer system. We have a whole IT team, but I'm the only one that seems to know how our system actually operates.”

“You are truly a jack of all trades—investigator, chauffeur, spiritual advisor, computer technician.”

He smiled. “Master of none.”

They sat in impatient silence. The cardiac surgeon finally emerged and greeted both of them as if he already knew them. This happened to Lauren frequently these days and probably to Ryan as well. He introduced himself as Dr. Randall and invited them back to a private consultation room. Lauren feared the worst.

“The good news is your grandmother survived the surgery. We were able to insert the stent and re-establish blood flow to the posterior descending artery. The bad news is it took us quite some time to revive her. We aren't certain of the extent of oxygen deprivation to her brain. We won't know about the impact upon her cognitive functioning until she wakes up.”

“Can I see her?”

“Yes, but remember she's still recovering. We won't know for sure what we're dealing with until the anesthesia has fully dissipated.”

Lauren turned to Ryan. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

Rose-ma was sleeping peacefully. Lauren squeezed her hand. “Rose-ma? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, dear, of course I can. I had trouble with my heart, not my ears,” Rose-ma said as she slowly opened her eyes. “I've just seen Liz.”

“No, Rose-ma,” Lauren said, somewhat embarrassed by Rose-ma's confusion. “Liz isn't here anymore, remember? You've had surgery, but everything went well. You need to focus on getting better now, okay? I love you.”

“
Oui, oui.
Don't worry about me, dear. I'll be fine. Liz sent a message for you. She asked me to tell you that you have always been her favoritest sister. I scolded her poor grammar, but she insisted I had to say it just like that. She said you would understand.”

The hairs on Lauren's arms stood up. After their parents had died, Liz had taken to cheering Lauren by saying, “Always remember, you're my favoritest sister!” Initially, Lauren would protest, “That's because I'm your only sister,” but eventually they reached an unspoken understanding about the true meaning behind the silly phrase. Underneath it all, they would always have each other.

Lauren was left to wonder if her grandmother's recovery was the result of medicine. Or something more.