Every time Marlene said his name, Huttington reacted like he was being struck with a whip. "No, I don't want to know," he pleaded.
"We found a fetus, Kip. A baby. Her baby. Your baby, Kip."
Earlier that morning, they'd all gathered around the hole to watch Charlotte Gates remove the last of the sand and gravel from the corpse. The anthropologist had immediately taken the body to the Sawtooth coroner's office. A couple of hours later, she called Marlene. "We have a positive identification of Maria based on dental records and fingerprints."
"Fingerprints?" Marlene asked. "She was that well preserved?"
"Amazingly, yes. Jack Swanburg was able to rehydrate her hands by soaking them in a saline solution and got several usable comparisons," Gates said. "Her parents took Maria to get fingerprinted at the sheriff's office when she was five. It was part of a program for identifying missing children. And barring any injuries, fingerprints remain the same when you get older, they just get larger. So these will stand up in any court."
"Thanks, Charlotte, you guys did a great job," Marlene said.
"I appreciate that and will pass it on," Gates replied. "But don't you want to hear the clincher?…Maria's father, you, and Lucy were all right, Maria was pregnant. We found a well-preserved fetus, about three months into gestation. I'm sending tissue off to the lab for blood work and DNA analysis."
"We'll need a DNA sample from Huttington," Marlene shot back.
"Right on, and then we'll analyze them to see if they match," Gates said. "I'll bet Dan Zook will love the idea of presenting that to a jury."
Zook had indeed. He now picked a paper up from his desk and handed it to one of the state troopers. "This is a warrant from Judge Linda Lewis to obtain hair, skin, and blood samples from Mr. Huttington. When we're finished here, would you be so kind as to arrest and escort him to the hospital, where the medical staff will obtain the samples?"
"My pleasure," said the trooper.
"But it's not really necessary, is it, Kip?" Marlene said, picking up the photograph and holding it up for Huttington again. "You know we gotcha. No need to go through the humiliation of some nurse plucking your pubic hairs for testing."
"I, ah, no…" Huttington started to say.
"Shut up, Kip!" Barnhill shouted. "Not another word. This is a bunch of-"
"Kip, you tell him to shut the fuck up unless you're looking forward to that hot shot to hell," Marlene snarled. "And just so you understand the magnitude of what you're facing here, you heard Dan say two counts of murder, right, Kip? One count is for Maria. The other is for the fetus. Dan may not be able to make it stick because the courts do not currently recognize the rights of a fetus. But it's certainly not going to go over well with a jury when it considers the death penalty, and there's plenty of slam-dunk charges to get you strapped to that gurney."
Barnhill started to protest again, but Huttington kicked the trash can hard enough to send it and its contents across the floor, where they landed at the feet of the attorney.
"No more, Clyde, no more. Just sit there," Huttington said, pointing at Barnhill.
Huttington looked at Zook. "I take it I'm not already in jail because you wanted to talk to me," he said.
Zook shrugged his shoulders. "Essentially I'm here in case you want to discuss truthfully answering a few questions, and jumping through some hoops for me at future court dates. It might save you from the death penalty, but no guarantees of course. First, let's do this right. Officer, would you please read this man his Miranda rights."
The trooper pulled a small card from his shirt pocket and began to read from it. "You have the right to remain silent," he began. "Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…"
"I'm his attorney," Barnhill said.
Zook winced as if he was sorry he had to break the bad news. "I don't think you're going to be in a position to represent anybody, unless it's yourself…and you know what they say about people who represent themselves."
The prosecutor looked at the other trooper. "In fact, I think we're at that point where you'll want to escort Mr. Barnhill here into that other office I showed you earlier. Read him his rights, too, and see if he wants to make a statement. Then you are free to take him to the county jail."
Zook looked apologetic again. "I'm afraid it's going to be a little crowded down there and you'll probably be sharing a cell with a number of other guys," he said. "Seems that Sheriff Ireland went to the Unified Church compound yesterday trying to serve a search warrant to look for Mr. Huttington's car. Apparently, not everybody was a good churchgoer and some took exception to him being there, so he locked them all up. It's so crowded over there, I hear, they're probably only just now getting to make that phone call to their lawyers."
"This is an outrage," Barnhill blustered as the second trooper clamped a big hand on his arm and pulled him to his feet.
"Yes, it is," Zook said. "Everything about you and Mr. Huttington is an outrage to anybody with a shred of decency. Now get him the hell out of my sight. I believe Mr. Huttington may want to talk to me in private."
Two hours later, Marlene emerged from the District Attorney's Office, looked up at the spectacular Idaho sunset, and yawned. A sedan pulled up in the drive and Fulton got out.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, Clay, I'm great, just tired," she said. "And it's a long drive to Boise. But take me to Butch, would ya?"
Fulton nodded and opened the passenger door. "Your chariot awaits, Athena."
Marlene laughed. "Hmm? Wasn't she the goddess of justice?"
"She was indeed, Ms. Ciampi, she was indeed."
28
All conversations stopped when Karp entered the courtroom with Mikey O'Toole and Richie Meyers on Monday morning. He looked over at the gaggle of ACAA reps, including some members of the panel who had railroaded his client, as well as Zusskin and Larkin. They were all eyeing him like alley rats keeping track of the terrier prowling through their hood.
Karp considered whether he should feel sorry for them. But in less time than it took him to blink his eyes, he'd reached his decision. Hell no, he thought, they made this bed of nails. Lie in it.
The Sunday Idaho Statesman had blared the headlines all across the front page, announcing the raid on the Unified Church in Payette County that had uncovered the clandestine grave of a murder victim from the University of Northwest Idaho. Of course, the real news was the subsequent arrests of Kip Huttington, Clyde Barnhill, Rufus Porter, Benjamin Hamm, and several members of an Aryan gang in connection with the murder of Maria Santacristina. Police were still searching for John Porter, who they "wanted to question" in connection with the raid.
Another nearly as breathless sidebar story reported that a Basque terrorist wanted by Spain for a bombing more than twenty years earlier had been killed in a shootout with the Payette County SWAT team at the Unified Church compound. Jose Luis Arregi Katarain had been identified by fingerprints sent to Interpol by Sheriff Steve Ireland.
"We believe that he may have been training members of neo-Nazi terrorist organizations," Ireland said at a press conference. "He fought like a man possessed, but my boys got him in the end. Afraid he's pretty shot up. Not a pretty sight."
Later, when he was called by reporters and told that some of the other white supremacists arrested at the compound denied the presence of Katarain, Ireland scoffed. "Well, what the hell do you expect them to say. 'Oh, hello, we've been playing army with Osama Frickin' bin Lay-den'? They may not have even known his real name."
Of course, Karp knew the real story. He'd turned in early Saturday night feeling a little run-down and fighting a splitting headache that radiated from the back of his neck. The pain had finally subsided when he heard the door of his hotel room open and a minute later felt a warm female body slip beneath the covers and snuggle up against him.