Hardy 11 - Suspect, The (33 page)

"About what? These two women?"

"Some of that, yes. But more about the project they were working on. Have you ever heard of the Dryden Socket?"

"No."

"Well, sit tight and hold on." She gave him a succinct rundown of what she'd learned about Caryn's invention, the incredible profit it was poised to make, the problems with the clinical trials, the late reporting, Caryn's threats to expose PII's behavior, the pending FDA approval, the mezzanine loans, Fred Furth and his venture capital group. "And now they would have us believe that this young woman kills herself?" she concluded. "I think Bill Blair is at the very least involved in some kind of cover-up. He wants that socket to get to the market with FDA approval, and he's going to hide the negative test results."

"How's he going to do that? Clinical trials, they're public documents."

"Right. But these results came in after the trials were completed. Technically, they're not part of the approval process. Now apparently they're coming in mostly as questions to PII. 'Could this death or this clot be from the socket?' So if there's no whistle-blower on the inside, like Caryn or this poor girl Kelley, nobody gets to find out about what's going on."

Jeff hesitated, then said, "You're right about one thing. This changes the complexion of things around Gorman. If I put it out and any part of it's true ..."

"It's all true. You can check it all yourself, as I'm sure you will."

"Of course. But if this is any part of your case, with the coverage you're already getting, what I'm saying is it's going to go national in a heartbeat."

"That would be a nice bonus, I admit. Get another version of things out there in the ether. Plus, something else might shake loose. This case needs another suspect in a bad way. What do you think?"

Jeff took most of thirty seconds, a very long time, before he said, "I like it. Up to Caryn Dryden's murder, anyway. But I still can't understand why this girl killed herself. If she was whistle-blowing on this .. . unless someone threatened her somehow. .. but even then .. ."

Gina cut him off. "That's the part I can't figure out either, Jeff. And with my case heating up the way it is, I can't even send investigators out to look. There's no time, and I've got other priorities. But I'm sure there's something here, something big, and it would be an incredible coincidence if it wasn't somehow connected to my case. I just can't see how."

It wasn't until she'd hung up that another thought struck Gina. The cover-up scenario she'd just described so eloquently to Jeff Elliott would benefit anyone who held stock in PII or stood to gain from the timely approval of the Dryden Socket. With Caryn's death, the ownership of all of the family's PII stock, as well as the huge negotiated return on Caryn's $2 million mezzanine loan, would all go to Stuart.

Other suspects, as she'd hoped aloud to Jeff Elliott, might in fact shake loose—Bill Blair, Fred Furth. But if one were inclined to view her client as guilty to begin with, and this seemed to include the whole world at the moment, then she'd just set in motion an investigation that would only give Stuart more, not less, motive.

Her stomach tightened and she fought her way through the cramp with shallow breathing, then shakily stood up to go in, take a shower, and get into her courtroom clothes.

26

A covered but open-to-the-air
corridor extends from the back door of the Hall of Justice, past the jail on the left and the morgue on the right, and ends at a parking lot reserved for police and other official vehicles. Today at 8:15 a.m. the walkway was wet and windswept and Gina was hurrying, head-down, to get to the jail to meet with her client. She nearly walked into the young woman who stepped into her path. "Oh, I'm sorry, I ... Kymberly? What are you doing out here in the cold like this?"

"I tried to see my dad, but they won't let me in."

"That's because it's early for visiting hours. But what are you doing here? Your father said you'd gone back to school."

She shrugged. "School's bullshit." She gestured to the jail. "They're letting you in, aren't they?"

"Yes. But I'm his lawyer." The girl didn't look good. She was in flip-flops, a pair of torn blue jeans, and a camouflage sweatshirt with a hood. Weather? What weather? She hugged her arms to her body. The hollows under her eyes were dark enough to be bruises. Her shoulder-length hair hadn't seen a brush or a comb since she'd last slept, which might not have been recently. "Are you okay, Kymberly?"

"I'm fine."

"What did you want to see your dad about?"

"Nothing."

"Have you eaten anything today? Are you back staying with Debra?"

"Maybe. I don't have to tell you where I'm staying."

"No, that's true. But I need to be able to find you if you're going to testify."

"Who said I was doing that?"

"Didn't your dad tell you about that? You remember. We'll need you if Bethany starts talking about how your dad threatened her."

"She probably won't, though. That's bogus."

"I know, but she might believe that's what happened."

"I doubt it. She's not stupid."

Gina gave up. "All right. But just to support your dad, it'd look good if you were in the courtroom. And then if it came up, we could use you."

"Sure, that's what you guys do, isn't it? Use people. So feel free. Walk all over me if you want."

"I won't do that. I'm trying to avoid having to issue you a subpoena and if you're just there with us, I wouldn't have to." Exasperation played over her features but Gina, trying to stay nice, took another tack. "So. Are you getting enough sleep? You look very tired, Kym."

"So do you."

That was enough. Gina decided to confront the overt antagonism straight on. "Why are you being so rude to me?"

"Because you're screwing up and it's hurting my dad. You ought to quit."

"I offered to do that yesterday. Your dad decided to keep me on."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I believe he's innocent. Most other lawyers probably wouldn't. He seems to think that's important." Gina, much more heavily dressed, nevertheless was starting to feel the chill, and knew that Kymberly must be near freezing. She pointed to the door that led to the jail. "I'm cold standing out here," she said, putting it all on herself. "Let's go inside."

The lobby was all glass block and industrial linoleum, as welcoming as a bus station. But it was dry and there was no wind—an improvement. Gina walked over to the plastic bench against the right-hand wall and sat at one end. Kymberly took the other, as far from Gina as the bench allowed.

"So you've taken some more days off school? Do you think that's a good idea?"

The young woman turned on her. "School? What do you care if I'm in school? What am I going to do in school?"

Falling into adult mode, Gina tried to give her a reasonable answer. "Whatever you were doing there before this happened with your mother, Kymberly. You had plans then. Don't lose them over this."

Kymberly rolled her eyes. "Right. Here's the thing, though. How about if I never went to school in the first place?"

"Is that true?"

"Is that true? Is that true?"
Mocking Gina's tone. "Why? Is that such a shock? Nice little Kymmie didn't do what her mommy wanted? What do you think? Like school's going to do me a lot of good, right? I'm going to be a better person? Give me a break. Like all that education made my mom such a sweetheart."

Shaken by this information, Gina barely trusted herself to breathe. She wanted to know more, but knew that if she betrayed that fact to Kymberly, the girl would stop talking. Her expression neutral, Gina looked across at her. "But you wanted to see your dad today?"

"My dad's okay. I wanted to tell him how important it is he gets off on this."

"He knows that."

"No, he doesn't. Not if he's willing to gamble on you just because he likes you."

"What do you mean, likes me?"

"Finds you attractive. How's that? Clear enough?"

"Did you ever think it might be because I'm a good lawyer?"

"How would he know? What've you done good yet?"

Gina opened her mouth but found no words.

Kymberly shook her head. "Just like with Mom."

"What's just like with your mom, Kym?"

"It's the way his brain works. He
decides
he's with Mom, and so he stays all those years, even when she drives him out of the house for weeks at a time and gives him nothing back. He
decides
he likes you, so now he's keeping you on. It's just who he is. Even if you're not doing the job he needs done."

"I'm trying to do that job, Kymberly. I really, truly don't believe he killed your mother."

"It's not
believing,
don't you understand? I
know
he didn't do it."

One of the jail's admitting officers glanced over from where he stood behind the counter. "Everything all right over there?"

Gina held up a hand—everything was under control. Turning back to Kymberly, she said, "What does that mean? You 'know' it. How can you know it more than I do? Is there something specific you should tell me?"

The questions stopped Kym abruptly. She looked first down, then across to the admitting counter, then at last back to Gina. "I just know him. I just know him." Shaking her head as though to clear her thoughts, she said, "You've got to keep him out of prison. He can't go to prison! Don't you understand?
That can't happen
^!
"

Tears welled up and brightened her eyes. Gina reached out to touch her and offer her some comfort, but suddenly she bolted up and, with an anguished sob, broke for the door. Gina, immediately on her feet, got outside only in time to catch a last glimpse of Kym as she disappeared around the edge of the building.

*
    
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In the attorney’s visiting room, trying to shake off her reaction to Kym, Gina heard the knock from the deputy and a second later was standing up, preparing herself to look strong for her client as Stuart appeared at the door. When she saw him, though, she could feel something go out of her, out of the forced animation in her face. "Where are your dress-out clothes?" she asked, her voice sounding hollow and shaky, even to herself.

"Dressing out" was a courtesy afforded prisoners going into trial. They were allowed to wear their own clothes and shoes instead of the orange jail jumpsuit and paper slippers. The idea was to minimize the bias that jail garb creates for a jury. That wasn't the rule at prelim, where there was no jury to be prejudiced. Nevertheless, Gina had over the years tried to dress out her clients as often as she could, if only for the tiny psychic lift it might give them, the nod to dignity. From time to time, her requests to dress out her client for prelim had been granted.

Expecting the same result with this latest request, she'd gone to Stuart's home over the weekend and brought a couple of changes of clothes down to the jail. She'd never received notice to the contrary, so it really hadn't occurred to her that the courtesy would be denied in this case. But here was Stuart now, not just in the typical jail orange jumpsuit, but a red flight-risk jumpsuit, shackled hand and foot.

She seemed to be taking it worse than Stuart, who actually struck a faux-modeling pose for an instant, flashing a smile at her. "I thought I'd go for something bold in red," he said, then shrugged as though it were of little import to him. "I asked the guards when I should change, and they said it wasn't happening."

"Christ." Gina leaned back against the table.

Stuart came and stood about a foot in front of her. "Hey, it's okay."

She looked up at him. "Not really, Stuart." But all the weight of the morning again bore down on her, and she hung her head. "Christ," she said again.

He touched the side of her arm. "You all right?"

Finally, she looked up and met his eyes. "It's just been a monster of a morning. You're going to want to sit down."

Kelley Rusnak hit Stuart pretty hard. Like Gina, he in no way believed that she had killed herself. She had not been depressed when he'd been talking to her. Quite the contrary, she had been outraged, eager to help right a wrong, ready for a fight. There must be more to the story that hadn't come out yet, that would perhaps be discovered at the autopsy. Gina told him about her call to Jeff Elliott, that he was going to try and follow up on the story if he could. That if they got lucky, it could broaden the case away from him; although since Stuart still stood to gain from any Dryden Socket profits, that effect might be mitigated.

"Of course," he said. "You wouldn't want unmitigated good news."

"Don't worry about that." They were both on the hard wooden chairs at the long table, and Gina knocked on the tabletop. "Okay, that brings us to number two. Again, not pretty."

"How many do we got?"

"Four. First was Kelley. Second, these." She opened her briefcase and took out the photos of the Echo Lake cabin that she'd shown her partner in the Solarium just last night.