“They did what he ordered them to do.”
“Did the doctors tell you that?”
“No.”
“Did you ever hear your father give such an order?”
“He’s too smart for that. He was always telling me how much he loved me and how it hurt him to have to hospitalize me. He made certain that there were witnesses. He may be evil but he’s also very clever.”
“Or very caring, Miss Kohler, or very caring. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
“He made me look like a fool,” Vanessa told Ami, who was seated across the table from her in the jury room following the noon recess.
“Brendan is an excellent attorney. He knows that you have only Carl’s word that the Unit exists.”
“What about the murder of Dr. French and his wife?”
“Brendan doesn’t believe you or Carl. He thinks that Carl killed the Frenches and that you’re covering for Carl.”
“Carl saved your life. What does he think about that?”
“He thinks that your father’s security people came to my house looking for you and Carl killed them and my police guards. That explanation fits Brendan’s theory of the case.”
Vanessa shook her head. “We don’t have a chance, do we?”
“I’m sorry, but I told you that this would happen. You’ve been in a mental hospital and your father is a national hero. You’re very open about your hatred for him. That gives you a strong motive to lie or distort the truth.”
“Still no word from Hobson?” Vanessa asked.
“No.”
“I knew I’d never beat him. He always wins.”
Vanessa closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Her pain was so visible that it hurt Ami, but Ami knew of no way to stop the pain. They had lost, and Vanessa and Carl Rice were going to go to prison for a long time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
After Ami Vergano rested her case, Brendan Kirkpatrick began the prosecution’s case by questioning Dr. Ganett and the other men who’d been taken prisoner at the hospital. Shortly before noon, Judge Velasco recessed court until two.
The prosecutor was feeling a little down when he walked into the Multnomah County district attorney’s office on the sixth floor of the courthouse. He usually felt elated after a great cross-examination, but his demolition of Vanessa Kohler had been too easy. Her irrational belief in General Wingate’s mythical secret army was a product of hate and a deep-seated mental illness. Beating up on someone who was irrational and sick was not something he relished.
“Mr. Kirkpatrick,” the receptionist called out. “I have an important message from Mr. Stamm about your bail hearing. He wanted me to make sure you got it as soon as you came back from court.”
Jack Stamm, the Multnomah County district attorney, was Kirkpatrick’s boss. Brendan took Stamm’s note from the receptionist. His brow furrowed with confusion as he read it. He was tempted to go to Stamm’s office and ask for an explanation of the instructions, but the note was very clear. It ordered him to do as he was told without question.
Brendan walked down a narrow hallway that began at the reception desk and ended in a large open area that housed the workspaces of the deputy district attorneys and their staff. General Wingate was waiting in the conference room. Two Secret Service men were guarding the door. They searched Brendan and his briefcase before letting him in.
General Wingate’s pale blue eyes fixed on the prosecutor the moment the door opened. Seated beside him was Bryce McDermott, the General’s political adviser. Mr. McDermott had returned to the conference room as soon as Vanessa was through testifying, to brief the General on what Carl Rice and his daughter had said. At the end of the table was a compact, muscular man wearing a leather jacket that was open enough to give the deputy DA a clear view of a large handgun. The man’s eyes were on Kirkpatrick as soon as he entered the room.
The General still wore his gray-streaked hair in a military cut. He had on a white silk shirt, a solid maroon tie, and the slacks from a charcoal-gray suit. The suit jacket was folded neatly over the back of a chair.
Wingate looked upset. “Bryce tells me you were pretty rough on Vanessa.”
“It’s my job to win this bail hearing, but I can assure you that I didn’t enjoy myself.”
The General sighed. “I know you’re just doing your job, but I hurt whenever Vanessa hurts. Do you have children, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
“No,” Brendan answered. His expression didn’t change but he felt an ache in his heart. He and his wife had started talking about a family shortly before she died.
“They’re amazing, but they play havoc with your emotions. Every little thing they do brings you either ecstasy or pain. Sadly for me, Vanessa’s actions over the years have brought me little pleasure. Still, I can’t stand to see her suffer.”
“Then I’m sorry to tell you that I need you to testify.”
“Surely that’s not necessary after the job you did examining Carl and Vanessa. What possible questions could the judge have about their sanity? He’s got to realize that Vanessa is too irrational to release on bail.”
“General Wingate, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years in practice it’s that you never assume a judge or jury is going to act in any particular way. I’ve seen the most bizarre decisions made in this courthouse, and the only thing I know for sure is that you always cover you ass.
“Besides, I need you to tell the judge why you had your daughter brought to your home and what happened when Rice broke in. And I think it’s essential that you deny Rice’s allegations about this secret army he claims you ran when you were with the AIDC.”
The General turned to McDermott. “What do you think, Bryce?”
“I agree with Brendan. The press is all over the courtroom. They took down every word Rice and your daughter said. We need to defuse this thing. If you don’t answer their accusations, the media is going to speculate about why you’re keeping mum. Let’s put this bullshit to rest, right now.”
Wingate sighed again. “You’re right. I’m just not happy about sitting across from my daughter and saying things that will reinforce her belief that I’m trying to destroy her life.”
“I understand completely, and I’ll try and make this experience as painless as possible,” Brendan said.
“I don’t suppose Mrs. Vergano shares your sentiments?”
“No, sir, I don’t believe she does.”
Brendan Kirkpatrick and General Wingate pushed through the courtroom doors surrounded by the General’s bodyguards and followed by Bryce McDermott. Suddenly, the back benches were flooded by the glare from the television lights and there was an explosion of sound from the corridor. Then the doors swung shut and the General walked to the witness box, back straight, eyes forward, as if he were on parade. When he drew even with his daughter, he paused to send a sad smile her way. Vanessa met the smile with a look of pure hatred. Wingate’s smile faded and he shook his head sadly.
As soon as the bailiff swore him in, the General took his seat in the witness box.
“Have you ever been married?” Kirkpatrick asked as soon as he had walked Wingate through his educational, military, and business history.
“Yes, to Charlotte Kohler, a wonderful woman.”
“What happened to her?”
Wingate dropped his eyes. “She died in a car accident.”
“When did this happen?”
“In the mid-sixties, when Vanessa was still in middle school. Her mother’s death hit her very hard.”
“You’re referring to the defendant, Vanessa Kohler?”
“Yes.”
“Is the defendant the only child of your marriage?”
“Yes.”
“How would you characterize your relationship with your daughter?”
“We were close until her mother died. Then she got it into her head somehow that I was responsible for the automobile accident that killed Charlotte. She was in her teens, a very vulnerable age. Our relationship became strained.”