The courtroom was just down the hall. Teddy entered and sat on a bench in the back row. But he wasn’t exactly seated in the courtroom. It was more like an observation room completely enclosed by glass. Speakers were built into the walls so that the public could hear the proceedings. Teddy had read about this courtroom in the newspaper when the building first opened. The court consisted of two tables for the attorneys and the judge’s bench, each furnished with speakerphones. Beside the judge, a platform took the place of the witness chair and a thirty-six-inch Sony television monitor replaced the defendant. The entire proceedings occurred via TV and over a telephone conference call. The defendants spoke to the court from a holding cell in the basement of the roundhouse five safe blocks away-the cell rigged with a camera and telephone as well. Economic and safety concerns that went with the transportation of prisoners were no longer relevant issues for the taxpayers.
Teddy glanced about, realizing he was the only one in the observation room. He looked through the glass, watching the judge talk to a defendant and listening to their conversation over the speakers. While the judge relied on the speakerphone, he noticed the attorneys held the handsets to their ears. The process seemed straightforward enough. When the prosecutor began speaking to the judge, Teddy opened his coffee, leaned below the view of the bench and sipped through the steam. He was trying to suppress the memory of seeing Darlene Lewis’s mangled body bound to the dining room table, but he couldn’t make it. The look on her face as she was murdered remained crystal clear. And the shock was beginning to give way to fear. At some point tonight, he would have to face Oscar Holmes without the benefit or distance of television. He’d have to talk to him in person. Maybe even shake the madman’s hand.
Someone entered the room behind his back and he turned. It was ADA Carolyn Powell.
“They’ve bumped us up,” she said, taking a seat beside him. “Unless the judge takes a break, we’re next. Andrews wants to fast-track Holmes out of the roundhouse and get him into a cell, for his safety as well as everyone else.”
“Where are they taking him?”
“Curran-Fromhold,” she said. “They know you’re coming. Everything’s set.”
Teddy nodded. “Has the house been cleared?”
“The body’s out, but Vega thinks we should keep the place under seal. I agree. There may be a reason to go back once the science is in.”
“What about the family?” Teddy asked.
“They’re in no shape to spend their holiday at the house in Chestnut Hill. Besides, any funeral arrangements will be delayed because of the autopsy. After they make the ID, they’re heading back to the mountains. It’s not much more than an hour’s drive.”
The attorneys in the courtroom behind the glass were rising from their tables.
“Come on,” Powell said, motioning him toward the doorway. “The entrance is at the other end of the hall.”
Teddy gulped down what was left of his coffee, ditching the empty cup in the trash and following her out of the room.
By the time he was seated at the table in the courtroom, the jolt of hot caffeine hit him square in the eyes and Judge Vandergast had explained how to use the telephones. Teddy picked up his handset, pressed the appropriate button as directed, and turned toward the TV. The camera in the holding cell was locked on a shot of an empty steel chair. Over the phone, Teddy could hear the sound of chains rattling in the background. They were getting louder, moving closer. Then the backs of two cops in uniforms came into view, blocking the shot as they shackled their prisoner to the chair. After a moment, the cops backed out of the shot and everyone in court got their first look at Oscar Holmes.
The lighting was poor, but Teddy could see the forty-year-old man twisting in the chair and pulling at the handcuffs and leg irons. Oscar Holmes was a giant-six-feet-five, two hundred and ninety pounds. His body was loose and round, his short-cropped hair a dull brown. The circles beneath his eyes appeared jet-black, his skin as unnaturally pale as Teddy had ever seen. No matter what the standard, Holmes was an odd-looking man. A nightcrawler out of central casting. The kind of man who tried to keep his appetites secret and spent too much time in the dark digging holes to bury them in.
Someone in the cell told Holmes to settle down and handed him a telephone. The restraints were too tightly drawn to bring the handset to his ear so the big man leaned forward. As he bent down, his forehead blocked the camera lights and his colorless eyes vanished in deep shadow. The effect was terrifying.
Judge Vandergast didn’t even blink, explaining to Holmes what would be accomplished tonight and asking the man if he understood the rules.
Holmes nodded and groaned, tugging at the chains again.
Then the judge turned to Powell. The charges were read, and Holmes was cited with the tortured murder of Darlene Lewis, eighteen years of age, from Chestnut Hill. Although details of the arrest and crime scene were excluded for the most part in favor of a dry reading of the statutes involved, the horror and gore were substantial enough that they easily crept through the back door. Teddy was just thankful that any mention of the word cannibalism had been left out, knowing full well it would come up next week at the preliminary hearing. That would be the time when the district attorney’s office would be asked to demonstrate that they had enough evidence to send the case to trial. Three weeks after that, if the judge agreed, and Teddy was certain that he would, Holmes would be formally arraigned.
Judge Vandergast turned back to the TV and once again asked Holmes if he understood.
Holmes nodded a second time. “Yes, I do,” he said, his words blurred by a gravelly voice mixed with despair.
The judge paused as if the weight of the charges were sinking in. He leaned back in his chair and removed his reading glasses. Teddy could hear Holmes’s breathing over the phone and thought his client might even be crying. No one said anything as the judge wiped his glasses off with a handkerchief, slipped them back on, and reached for his calendar. This was the world Judge Vandergast lived in eight hours a day. Teddy tried to compute the number of cases the man heard in a week. Probably hundreds, he thought, working the room with grace and professionalism but thank God for weekends and holidays and any day he could get off.
“Bail isn’t an issue,” the judge said, paging through his calendar. “How about next Tuesday? We’ll schedule the preliminary hearing for ten o’clock. Judge Reis is available. I think we’ll give this one to him.”
The judge turned to Teddy with a practiced calm; they were in the eye of the storm tonight, not fighting the heavy winds and swirling sea that lay beyond. Teddy couldn’t help but wonder what Judge Reis may have done to deserve this one.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” he said. “But I was hoping for a delay of a week or two in order to evaluate my client’s mental competence. I’ve just come from the crime scene. Given the circumstances, it would seem to be a relevant issue in the case.”
“Maybe so,” the judge said with a twinkle in his eye. “Only it’s not an issue tonight.”
Teddy cleared his throat. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
He glanced over at Powell as she agreed on the date and everyone wrote it down. It was obvious from the look on her face that she hadn’t expected him to say anything at all. Because of the weight of the crime and his lack of experience, she seemed surprised by his attempt to stall.
Powell got up from her chair, still eyeing Teddy as she gathered her papers. Then Judge Vandergast switched the TV off. Once the screen went blank, once the image of Holmes vanished into the night and they were safe, only then did the judge rise from the bench, claiming he and the court would require a brief, thirty-minute break.