Judge Pistone declared a recess, departing without any indication whether Mason's questions had undermined the judge's confidence in the prosecution's case. Jordan laid her head on the counsel table, clasping her hands behind her neck, swatting away Mason's hand.
Samantha Greer testified about the homicide investigation, including the physical evidence recovered from the murder scene, concluding with Jordan's surprise visit to police headquarters to confess. Ortiz kept his questions short and Samantha's answers followed suit, giving her testimony precision and credibility.
"Do innocent people confess to crimes, Detective Greer?" Mason asked her, rising from his seat. It was the first time he'd cross-examined Samantha. During their time together, his cases and hers had not intersected, as if the love gods were giving them a demilitarized zone for their relationship.
"Sometimes, Mr. Mason," she said, allowing a hint of a smile to escape the corner of her mouth, sensing the charade they were playing. "It happens."
Mason stood at one side of the lectern the lawyers used for questioning, leaning his elbow on the edge. "You've been doing this a long time, Detective. Why do innocent people confess to crimes they didn't commit?"
"There can be many reasons," she answered. "Some people want attention, some are mentally handicapped."
"Some people are coerced into confessing, true?" Mason asked.
"Not by me, Counselor."
"Of course not. I didn't mean to imply that you would, but someone in a position of trust or authority could coerce an innocent person to confess. That's happened, hasn't it?"
"I suppose it has," she admitted.
"Some people confess because they're scared or exhausted, or they black out and think they might have committed the crime and not remembered. Isn't that right, Detective?" Mason asked, setting aside their past, pushing her to lay the foundation for his attack on Jordan's confession.
"I can't speculate about all the reasons, but none of those things happened here," Samantha said, taking off her gloves to jab back. "The defendant walked into police headquarters voluntarily, in complete control of her mental faculties, and announced her desire to confess. She was informed of her rights, declined to have an attorney present, and she confessed."
"What about children?" Mason asked, ignoring Samantha's devastating answer. "Why do kids confess to crimes they didn't commit?"
"I don't know," Samantha said, dismissing the question.
Mason picked up a manila file he had placed on the lectern. "Do you remember giving a lecture on confessions at the police academy last year?" Mason asked her. Harry had given a lecture on the same program before he retired, and gave Mason a copy of Samantha's paper. Mason had set Samantha up, and she had obliged by playing the role of the tough cop, too certain of the defendant's guilt to consider other possibilities. Normally, he relished these moments as much as Ortiz enjoyed his videotapes. This time was different.
"Yes," she answered, losing the glow from her performance.
"You wrote-and I quote- Be careful with a child's confession. More than anything else, kids just want to go home. They'll admit to almost anything because they figure their parents will make it all go away. Did I read that correctly, Detective?"
"You did."
"Isn't that what Jordan Hackett wanted, to go home? Did you consider the possibility that she confessed so her parents would take her back and make it all go away?"
"The defendant isn't a child. She's an adult."
"Who grew up with parents who called her damaged goods and a liar until they threw her out of the house. Since when does being an adult make that any easier to take?"
Samantha edged forward in the witness stand. "People like that commit murder all the time, Counselor. They become violent, like the defendant."
"Jordan Hackett isn't the only member of her family you suspected of committing a violent crime, is she, Detective?"
Samantha sighed, pursing her lips, realizing the trap she'd walked into. "No, she isn't."
"Who was the other person?"
"Trent Hackett," she said, forcing Mason to drag it out of her.
"What violent crime did you suspect he committed?"
"He tampered with the elevator in the Cable Depot, causing it to crash. He was the building manager and had access to the elevator controls."
"Who was Trent Hackett's intended victim?" Mason asked, boring in as Judge Pistone sat upright in the still courtroom.
Samantha said, "You were. We suspected that Trent was trying to prevent you from investigating the defendant's claim that he had raped her."
"Arthur and Carol Hackett didn't believe Jordan's claim against her brother and they're both alive. Gina Davenport believed it and she's dead. I believed it and Trent Hackett tried to kill me. That's what you thought, isn't it, Detective Greer?"
"Yes," Samantha answered, glaring at Mason, forgetting their past.
"No further questions."
Chapter 24
Blues on Broadway was a throwback to piano bars and gin joints that flourished during Kansas City's jazz heyday, before night clubs and restaurants became mini-theme parks for corporations more concerned with demographics than getting down with the sound. A rectangular bar struck from mahogany stood in the middle of the floor. An ebony grand piano on a low riser with room to add a trio, plus black-leather-lined booths bathed in blue shadows tossed from pinpoint spots buried in the ceiling, said this was a place to kick back and listen.
It was early Saturday morning and the last paying customers had tumbled out the door. Mickey was tending bar for Mason and Harry, who were perched on stools listening to Blues pick riffs off the piano. The notes clung together, fell apart, and found each other again, like subatomic particles.
"Putting Dr. Gina's murder on Trent was the smart play," Mickey said. "I mean Pistone was going to bind her over no matter what you did," he told Mason.
"Pistone did the only thing he could do-order Jordan to stand trial and let the jury decide. Blaming Trent was a chump's play," Mason said, "but it was the only one I had."
"I don't get why it was a chump's play," Mickey said. "It fits with the evidence and gives the jury a way out."
Harry tapped his empty bottle on the bar and Mickey replaced it with another cold one. "It's like this," Harry explained. "Blaming Trent for killing Gina gives Jordan another motive for killing Trent, not that she needed one. First her brother raped her, then he killed the one person who believed her story and was going to do something about it."
"Then all we have to do is figure out who killed Trent," Mickey said. "Why is everyone acting like the dog died?"
"Because," Blues said, running his knuckles across the keys, "I'm betting on one killer, not two. The murders are tied together by the killer's rage. Throwing Gina through the window and slam-dunking Trent into the computer monitor takes a whole lot of poison. So far, Jordan is the only one that fits that description."
"So, where do we start?" Mickey asked.
No one answered. Harry nursed his beer. Blues tapped out a string of chords, not finding the melody he wanted. Mason leafed through Dr. Gina's book, The Way You Do the Things You Do, stopping at the chapter about her daughter's suicide, reading the opening paragraph twice.
"Gina's daughter, Emily, was born in St. Louis," he said, looking up from the book.
"And I was born under a lucky star," Mickey said. "So what?"
"She was born in the same hospital as Jordan, only a week earlier. Gina says her hard labor was a sign of things to come," Mason said. "Take a look," he told Harry, sliding the open book in front of him.
"I take your word for it," Harry said, finishing his beer, Mason feeling stupid, forgetting about Harry's eyesight.
Mickey picked up the book. "I don't," he said, reading the chapter to himself.