Salem Falls Read online

  "That," Matt sighed, "is heaven. Do it again."

  In her stocking feet, Sydney Houlihan gingerly stepped on the small of her husband's back. He grunted, his face ground into the carpet. Beside them, in her baby seat, Molly clapped. "I don't think this is the smartest thing for her to see," Sydney said.

  "What? Mommy walking all over Daddy? She's a little young for metaphors." Matt grunted as Sydney hit a particularly sore spot. "You know why I married you?"

  "Because I was the only woman who agreed to this kinky stuff?"

  "Because you weigh exactly the right amount."

  Sydney carefully stepped onto the carpet and sat down cross-legged. "So what was it this time?"

  "What was what?"

  "Your back always gets pretzeled when you're stressed out about a case."

  Matt rolled over. "Married you for your ESP, too." He drew his knees up, stretching muscles along his spine. "Gillian's friends were taking drugs the night of the rape."

  "And Gillian?"

  "Said she wasn't."

  Sydney shrugged. "So?"

  "Well, no matter what, it's exculpatory. I have to turn it over to the defense."

  "It doesn't change the fact that she was raped, does it?"

  "No," Matt said slowly.

  Sydney raised her brows. "You think she's lying to you."

  "Ah, hell." Matt got to his feet and started pacing. "I don't know. She said it was her thermos but that Charlie's daughter brought the stuff. And that she didn't drink anything that night because she wasn't thirsty. I can probably get Meg to admit to procuring the drugs when I put her on the stand. But still ... there were five cups there with residue in them--one for each of the girls and one for St. Bride. McAfee is going to be all over this."

  "Maybe it was poured for her but she didn't drink it."

  "Maybe."

  Sydney was quiet for a moment. "Do you think she was lying about the rape, too?"

  He shook his head. "I've got too much evidence. The blood on her shirt, the scratches on his face, the semen."

  She wrapped her arms around Matt's waist. "You never liked sharing your toys."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You're growling because you have to turn over something that hurts your case."

  "But it doesn't," Matt argued. "Sure, it doesn't make Gillian look like an angel ... but I can still get St. Bride convicted."

  Sydney leaned up and kissed his chin. "Don't you feel better now?"

  To his surprise, Matt realized he did. His back wasn't aching, and for the first time all day, he was itching to just get this case to trial already. "That's the third reason I married you," he said, and stamped a kiss on her mouth.

  "Five cups don't mean squat, Jordan," Selena argued.

  "Reasonable doubt. All I have to do is plant the seed."

  "I don't care if you plant a whole frigging tree. You can't say that just because a cup was there that a kid drank out of it. Your car's in the garage. Does that mean I drive it?"

  Thomas looked up from the kitchen table, where he was struggling through a trigonometry proof. "Could you two take this somewhere else?"

  But neither Jordan nor Selena paid him any attention. "If I say that Gillian lied about taking drugs, it suggests that she lied about a number of things. Including this rape."

  "Jordan, listen to yourself! Matt Houlihan could drive a freight train through the holes in that argument."

  "You got anything better?" Jordan snapped. "Because I don't. I have a client who says the victim came onto him, but he can't offer us any more details. I have proof that the victim is into some pretty strange shit, but discrediting her isn't going to acquit Jack. Which means, for God's sake, that if all I have to throw at Goliath is a fucking pebble, I'm going to wind up my arm as best I can."

  "For Christ's sake," Thomas muttered. He started gathering his books and papers together, intent on moving to a quieter area. Like maybe a blasting zone.

  Suddenly, all the fire went out of Jordan. He sank into a chair across from Thomas and rested his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm being an idiot."

  "No argument here," Selena said.

  "It's just that I only have four days, Selena, and then we're standing up in front of the judge. And everything you've turned up in the past week--well, God, it's fantastic. But I went into this assuming that I was trying a simple case--girl says guy raped her, guy has a previous conviction. Indictment, arraignment, trial. And suddenly, every time I turn around, there's something new--this witch stuff, and the drugs, and evidence that doesn't match up. This isn't the case I thought I had." He pressed his thumb and forefinger deep into the sockets of his eyes. "I want a year to prepare. Then the next second, I don't, because at the rate we're going we'll probably find out that Gillian's got connections to the Sicilian mob."

  "Nah. Although I did turn up something about her being a presidential intern."

  "Not funny," Jordan muttered. "I have no idea what to say happened that night."

  "Jack was beaten up badly hours before. You could say he was in too sorry a physical state to commit the crime."

  "But not so sorry a physical state that he couldn't manage to get to a bar and drink himself sick." Jordan shook his head. "I can defuse what the girl says, but I can't refute it. The only pieces of that night Jack can recall are laughable. Ribbons and bonfires and naked teenagers--"

  "Naked?" Thomas squeaked. "Chelsea was naked?"

  "How am I supposed to get a jury to buy that? And then to vote for an acquittal?"

  "That's why you need proof, Jordan," Selena said gently. "Reasonable doubt works most of the time ... but like you said, the alternative you're proposing is so strange that it's still going to be hard to swallow. You need to hand the jury your own evidence, so that they know Gillian was playing witch in the forest that night. And a cup doesn't cut it."

  Thomas stacked his books and headed down the hall. "See you," he muttered. "I'm sure you'll really miss me being in here."

  "I know," Jordan sighed. "But if she took the atropine, it was nearly two months ago. The half-life of the drug is about six hours. It's not like we can get a sample of her blood tonight and still find it swimming around in there."

  "We should have had her blood screened by a private lab right after Jack's arrest. What were we thinking?"

  Jordan met her gaze. "That she was telling the truth."

  Thomas's voice floated down the hall. "You did have her screened," he called out. "In the ER."

  "Routine drug tests don't show atropine."

  "So ... why couldn't you try it again with some fancy test? What did they do with the blood when they were done?"

  "It went off to the state lab with the rest of the rape kit," Jordan explained, and suddenly his jaw dropped. "Holy shit, the rape kit. The known samples they used to type DNA came from blood that was taken that night."

  "And they save that stuff." Selena was already out of her seat. "How fast can you get the judge to sign off on a motion for independent testing?"

  Jordan reached for the briefcase that held his laptop. "Watch me," he said.

  Roman Chu had started Twin States Forensic Testing in a clean room partitioned off in his parents' garage. Having cultivated a reputation for getting things done in a fraction of the time it took the state lab to do them, he generated enough work to pay for his own building, and to hire ten employees who worked miracles for attorneys at the eleventh hour.

  "I appreciate this," Jordan said for the twentieth time.

  After the judge had granted the motion, Selena had secured Gillian's blood sample from the state lab. The prep work had been done during DNA analysis: The blood had been spun down and separated from the cells, the serum frozen. All Roman had to do was run the mass spectrometry. Now, they both stared at the computer, waiting for the results. "I want Cuban cigars," Roman muttered. "Not that crap from Florida you got me last year."

  "You got it."

  "And I'm still charging you for overtime."