Presumption of Guilt (8 page)

Dani Trumball, an attorney with New York City’s Help Innocent Prisoners Project, is in critical condition following a crash on Route 9W in Marlboro yesterday morning. Witnesses to the crash described a black, late-model SUV that seemed to deliberately strike Ms. Trumball’s car from behind, pushing it into a nearby tree, before it sped off. Ms. Trumball represents Molly Singer, who was convicted twelve years ago of the murder of her parents, Joseph and Sarah Singer. Singer is serving consecutive tweny-five-years-to-life terms at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility.

He slammed the paper down on the desk. Just like that, he felt a headache bloom behind his temples. He rubbed at them with slow, concentric circles.
Damn.
He’d bumped into Donna at the supermarket last week. She’d told him how she’d pushed this same Dani Trumball to take Molly’s case, how the head of the agency hadn’t wanted to. What would happen now? Would someone else take over or would it be dropped? For such a brief time he’d held out hope for Molly. Hope that she would get a new trial. Hope that she’d be proven innocent. Hope that she would reunite with Sophie. Hope that the melancholy Sophie wore like a shroud would be lifted if Molly were part of her life.

He picked up the newspaper and read the story again. If the witnesses were right, someone had wanted to hurt the lawyer. Even kill her.

Who would want to do that?

Someone who stood to lose from something the investigator was working on.

But surely there would be other investigators at the woman’s agency who would carry on her work.

Unless they knew she was the only one there who wanted to go forward with that work to begin with.

In addition to his headache, Finn was now having trouble breathing. He knew who had to be behind the attempt on Dani Trumball’s life—and he knew that he himself had helped set it in motion. Finn had told only one person about Donna’s intervention on Molly’s behalf, and about how the agency hadn’t wanted to take her case—until Dani Trumball had pushed them to do so.

In a kind of daze, he picked up the phone and dialed the county executive’s office. When Frank Reynolds answered, though, the daze was gone. Finn was screaming at him. “Are you insane? Are you—what
are
you? You’d help
kill
a woman, all so you could sabotage Molly? Sophie’s your granddaughter. You’re supposed to care about
her
, at least.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You told him!”

“Calm down, Finn. I don’t know what this is about.”

“You told him Ms. Trumball was the only one who wanted to take Molly’s case. He must have figured if she were removed from the picture, no more questions would be asked.”

Frank didn’t speak for a moment, then quietly said, “You saw the newspaper today. That’s what this is about?”

“Yeah, I saw it. What did you think? That I’d never find out?”

“Son, that’s crazy. I swear to you, Finn. I never told anyone.”

Finn didn’t believe his father for one moment. He slammed down the phone.

The headache was worse. If he didn’t lie down now, it’d blossom into a full-fledged migraine, and he’d be utterly disabled all day and night, curled around the pain in a pitch-dark room, helpless as a baby. He left the office and headed up to his bedroom. The kids were in school and Kim was, thankfully, at the gym. He stepped into the master bathroom, swallowed three Advil, and then ran hot water over a washcloth. After shutting the bedroom curtains, he lay down and placed the warm cloth on his forehead.

Before long, the pain began to subside. A minor miracle.

After less than an hour, Finn got up from bed, straightened the flowered bedspread Kim had insisted upon, and which made him cringe every time he looked at it, and returned to his office. The business’s account books were open on his desk, ready for him to send out the monthly invoices. He tried to concentrate but couldn’t push away thoughts of Molly. At first, he’d let his father convince him Molly was guilty, and he’d given in to his father’s insistence that he testify at her trial. The guilt gnawed at him like a parasite, eating away inside him.

He heard the front door slam, then heard Sophie’s footsteps stomping up the stairs to her bedroom. When she was younger, she’d rush into his office upon her return from school, eager to tell him about her day. Now she barely spoke to him. He hoped it was normal. Raging adolescent hormones turned the most rational of children into foreign creatures, mortified by their parents’ very existence. When he drove her and her friends anyplace, he’d see her try to shrink into the car’s seat, as though she could will herself to be invisible. It was almost comical to watch, but he knew better than to laugh.

He remembered his own adolescent embarrassment when his friends were around his parents and wanted to believe that was all Sophie was going through. Yet there seemed to be more to it than that. He left his office and walked upstairs to her room, knocked on the closed bedroom door, and opened it before she responded.

“Hey, no hellos?” he asked.

Sophie lay on her bed, her arms thrown over her forehead. She remained silent.

“Something wrong, sweetie?” Finn looked around her room, still a child’s room, with pale-pink walls and pink-and-green gingham curtains. An oversize stuffed giraffe sat in one corner, and a shelf over her desk held dolls she’d collected over the years. The walls were adorned with posters of Justin Bieber and the boy band One Direction.

Slowly, Sophie moved her arms down, then looked up at Finn. “I hate her.”

Finn knew she meant Kim. At times, he couldn’t blame her. “What did she do now?”

“Now? What could she do now? She’s locked up, where she belongs.”

Finn didn’t understand. Had Kim been arrested? He went over to Sophie’s bed and sat down on the edge. “What are you talking about?”

“My mother, the murderer,” Sophie said, her voice filled with disgust. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillow. Finn could hear soft cries. Undoubtedly her friends, or their parents, had seen the paper, reminding everyone of the murder that had taken place in their quiet town twelve years earlier. She’d been taunted at school, he figured. It wasn’t the first time, but it hadn’t occurred in a long while. He lay down next to Sophie and put his arms around her slim body. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to do this. She was poised on the edge of childhood, ready to take the leap into becoming a young woman.

“I don’t believe Molly murdered her parents,” he said softly to his daughter.

Sophie turned onto her back and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. “But you were against her at the trial.”

“How did you know that?”

“I know a lot. Kids talk.”

Finn wrapped his large hand around Sophie’s. “I spoke about things Molly had told me. I thought then it was the right thing to do, but I was wrong.”

“Dad?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Do you think there’s a murder gene?” Sophie’s voice seemed strained.

“Of course not.”

Sophie turned to him, leaned into him, and buried her face in his chest. “Sometimes I’m afraid of my thoughts about Mom.”

Finn knew she was now talking about Kim. The only mother she’d ever known, she’d called her “Mom” from the beginning. “All kids hate their parents at one time or another. It’s natural.”

“But I don’t hate you.”

Finn laughed. “You will. Trust me. When you get a little older and you don’t like all the restrictions I’ll put on you.”

Sophie picked up her head and looked at Finn. “Like what?”

“Well, like you can’t date any boys till you’re at least twenty-one.”

She punched him in the arm. “Oh, Daddy, you’re so silly.”

They laughed together and relief washed over Finn. It had been a long time since he’d heard Sophie laugh. He gave her a kiss on the top of her head, then headed back down to his office.

Opened on his desk was the newspaper with its story about Dani Trumball. The relief he’d felt moments before dissipated, replaced by a tightening in his stomach. He had to do something for Molly, something he should have done many years ago.

C
HAPTER

14

T
ommy’s face blanched when he saw Dani in the hospital bed, tubes going everywhere into her body, her face and arms covered with bruises. An orange glow from the setting sun streamed through the one window in the single-bedded room and cast its light over her. On every surface in the room stood bouquets of flowers, their sweet fragrance replacing the antiseptic odor of the corridors. He trudged over to Doug, sitting at her bedside, and held out his hand.

“I’m so sorry. Tell me what I can do for you.” He knew those were empty words, the murmured condolences of everyone when in fact they were helpless to do anything.

Doug shook his head. His eyes were puffy and rimmed in red.

“She’ll be all right, won’t she?” Tommy asked.

Doug looked up at Tommy. “The doctors put her in a coma.” His voice cracked at the word. “Said they had to, because of swelling in her brain.”

Tommy sat down in the chair next to Doug’s. “I had a cousin they did that to. He came out of it fine. Good as new, at least after a while.”

“They won’t know whether there will be any impairment until they take her out of it.” Doug picked up Dani’s hand and dropped his head to his chest.

“She’s a tough broad, Doug.”

A thin smile stretched Doug’s lips, and he nodded. “She’s got a few broken ribs, too, but that’s all. I saw pictures of the car. It’s a miracle it wasn’t worse.”

Tommy took in Doug’s rumpled clothes and stubble. “You been home yet?”

“I don’t want to leave her.”

“You got to take care of yourself, if not for you, then for Jonah.”

“Katie’s taking care of Jonah.”

“How’s Jonah doing with this?”

“I haven’t let him see Dani yet. It would be too frightening for him. I told him she was traveling for a case.”

Tommy nodded, and then for a long moment the two of them just looked at Dani, battered and tiny amid her tangle of tubes and wires. “I’m gonna find whoever did this,” Tommy said. “You can count on it.”

Doug turned to him. “Do you think it’s because of the case she’s working on?”

“Has to be.”

“But why? She’s just one of dozens of lawyers at HIPP. If she doesn’t handle it, someone else will. What did whoever did this think he’d accomplish?”

“You know, Bruce didn’t want to take this case at first. Dani talked him into it.”

Doug nodded. “She believes in this girl. No, woman. I guess she’s no longer a girl. So what’s Bruce going to do now?”

“We met this morning. Everyone wants to keep going. Melanie will take over the lead until Dani’s back on her feet.” Tommy looked back at his friend, lying still in her bed. He got up from his chair and leaned over the railing, his face inches from Dani’s. “We’re gonna get her out. I promise you,” he whispered to her. He straightened up to leave and said good-bye. As he got to the door, Doug called out to him.

“Just be careful, Tommy. Tell everyone to be careful.”

Always be careful. That had been drummed into the agents at the FBI, and it was no different at HIPP. Be careful. But how do you protect yourself from the unknown? Someone wanted Dani off this case and had sent a strong message; that much was clear. It was the “who” that had him stumped.

Before Dani had gotten into her car to make the trip back to the city, she’d called him. “We’ve got to look harder at the jail,” she’d said. “See if you can find Joe Singer’s business partner.” There hadn’t been time for much discussion. She’d said she’d fill him in when she got to the office. But she never arrived. If Dani was true to form, she’d jotted down notes of her visit with Molly’s trial lawyer. She always liked to do it while it was still fresh in her mind. Those notes would be in her car, now in the police impound, evidence in a potential attempted murder. He’d have to wait until the car had been gone over completely before he could get Dani’s briefcase.

Tommy wended his way through the hospital corridors and out to his car. It was already starting to get dark, a reminder that the shortened days were bringing them closer to winter. Some of his FBI buddies had retired to Florida, spending their time on the golf course instead of shoveling driveways while freezing their butts. Their biggest worry was getting to the restaurant in time for two-for-one drinks, not whether their friend would survive an attempted murder.

He found his car in the parking lot and started his drive home, where his wife waited for him. If it were Patty lying motionless in a hospital bed, he’d be inconsolable. She’d been by his side for more than twenty years, and without her he’d be lost. It was hard enough dealing with Tommy Jr. off at college, the first of his five children to leave the nest. Time seemed to be flying by now, as if the passing of days sped up as he aged. Before long, all of the kids would be gone, his once noisy home silenced with their absence. How could parents bear that? He’d left the FBI to spend more time with his kids, and it was the best decision he’d ever made. Seemed unfair that they would turn around and leave him and Patty, going off to college or getting married. Married? It seemed surreal to Tommy. His dark hair was peppered with gray but he still felt like a kid himself. He prided himself on his fitness, often challenging his sons to basketball games and holding his own against them.

He pulled into his driveway, and as he walked in the door, the smell of garlic wafted in from the kitchen. With the television blaring in the living room, Patty didn’t hear him as he snuck up behind her, placed his arms around her waist, and nuzzled her neck with a kiss.

“Great, you’re home,” she said, leaning into him. “Dinner’s just about ready.” She turned around to look at her husband. Her voice grew quieter as she studied his face. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“She should be okay, I think. But the docs put her in a coma. You remember, like Cousin Eddie.” Tommy went to the refrigerator and pulled out a cold beer, then sank into his chair at the head of the kitchen table. He’d played the optimist with Doug and now continued it with Patty. But he knew Dani’s injuries were serious. Sometimes the unexpected happened. Doctors never gave guarantees. He’d always accepted the risks that came with his jobs, but lawyers weren’t supposed to be in jeopardy. If Dani’s car had missed the tree, it would have gone over an embankment. Instead of seeing her battered and ghostlike, but still alive, he’d have been at her funeral.