He listens for several moments and then hangs up the phone. Standing from the desk, he says, "Miss Halstead...follow me. I'm going to seat you in an interview room and Detective Denning is on her way in."
I nod and follow the cop through a door that's opened with a code he punches in, and then down to a large room with a conference table. He flicks on the light and points to a seat. "Can I get you some coffee?"
I shake my head. "No, thank you."
"All right," he says as he pulls a tiny card from his breast pocket and gives me a sheepish look as he nods toward it. "I don't normally do this, but Detective Denning asked me to read your Miranda rights."
I just nod, my tongue too thick with fear to say anything.
"You have the right to remain silent..."
--
"You understand, Miss Halstead," Detective Denning says as she sits across from me with her arms folded over her chest and a pissy I-can't-believe-you-woke-me-up-for-this-shit look, "this sounds like nothing more than an attempt by a desperate girlfriend to save her boyfriend."
"I can understand that," I say, wishing that she didn't look so doubtful. "But when you hear my story, you'll believe me."
"Then let's hear it," she says with boredom before flicking a hand toward the top corner of the room. I see a camera there with a red light. "And this is being recorded."
I nod, swallow, and then say, "Ten years ago, Jonathon Townsend raped me."
That gets her attention, as I knew it would, and she sits up straight in her chair. "Go on."
"At least I thought he did. I was sixteen, drugged at a party with Rohypnol, and raped by three men. I remember bits and pieces. A semen sample was taken from me but my attackers were never identified."
She doesn't offer me sympathy, but I expect it's because she either doesn't believe me or she doesn't want to interrupt me.
"Almost a year ago, I was watching TV and I saw Jonathon Townsend on there, and I saw a tattoo he had of a red phoenix on his rib cage. I remember that tattoo...it was the exact one I remembered from my attack."
"So you identified Mr. Townsend as your alleged rapist?" she asks.
"Yes," I tell her. "I was convinced he was one of them. One of the others had the same tattoo on his wrist."
"What did you do?"
"I planned to murder Mr. Townsend," I tell her honestly. "It took me six months to get ready for it. I changed my hair color, had to let some facial piercings close up, worked out and lost some weight. Then I joined The Sugar Bowl and my intention was to meet Mr. Townsend, get him alone, and then I was going to shoot him after I induced him to tell me who my other attackers were."
"So you went to his house and stabbed him instead?" she asks incredulously.
I shake my head. "No, I met Beck North instead, and I eventually told him the truth about JT. He convinced me to give up my murderous plot and to go to the police. We had just decided to do that right before Mr. Townsend was beaten up."
"You know if it's true, that Mr. Townsend raped you, that adds additional motive for Mr. North," she points out.
"It does, but Beck never once considered it. In fact, I actually asked him if he'd help me do it and he unequivocally rejected the idea. He's the one who talked me out of giving up that quest. He knew it wasn't the right thing to do."
"All right," she says skeptically. "So then why did you kill him?"
"He called me the day it happened. I had just gotten out of school and he left me a voice mail. I called him back and he said he had an idea he wanted to run by me. He asked me to come to his house to go over it."
"And you want me to believe you were stupid enough to go to the house of a man who raped you?" she asks skeptically.
"You've been right about one thing in this investigation...Beck wanted JT out of the company. We were very much relying on him taking Beck's offer of five million in exchange for ownership of The Sugar Bowl, and JT could get out of his gambling debt. We wanted him out of the business before I went to the police so it made the transition smoother. I went to JT's house because I was hoping I could help him to see reason that this was a good deal. I wanted him to take that deal, give The Sugar Bowl to Beck, who is a good and decent man, and then I wanted to go to the police and put JT in jail."
"Tell me what happened when you got to his house," she prods me, and by the fact she's not questioning my story up to this point, I have to take that to mean she believes me to some extent.
I take a deep breath, but before I can answer, there's a knock on the conference room door. The same cop who was at reception pokes his head in. "Detective...Beck North is in the lobby, demanding to see Miss Halstead."
Detective Denning looks at me and raises her eyebrows. "Do you want to take a break to talk to him?"
I shake my head. "No. He's here to try to talk me out of it."
Denning nods and turns back to the cop. "Tell Mr. North that Miss Halstead doesn't want to see him."
The officer nods, backs out, and closes the door. Denning refocuses on me. "We were talking about what happened at JT's house."
Another deep breath. "He invited me in and we went into the den. He started--"
"Wait a minute," Denning interrupts. "He hadn't recognized you the few times you'd been around each other."
I give a dry laugh. "I hadn't thought so, but apparently he had. He told me that he knew Beck was his brother and he wanted Beck to let him stay in The Sugar Bowl and he'd in turn renounce his rights to the North estate."
"What did you say?"
"That it wouldn't change Beck's mind," I tell her.
"Then what?"
"He got angry...called me a cunt...He came at me, so I reached into my purse and pulled out my gun," I tell her candidly.
She blinks in surprise. "You have a gun?"
"It was my mother's," I tell her. "It's not registered to me. It's in my car and you can have it."
She blinks again in surprise, shakes her head as if she can't believe she's hearing this. "Then what happened?"
"JT was crazed with anger. Didn't care that I was pointing a gun at him. Walked right up to me until the gun was pushing against the center of his chest. He actually dared me to shoot him, and I swear to God, Detective Denning, no matter how much I hated him, I couldn't pull the trigger."
She nods in acceptance of that because she knows JT was in fact not killed with a gun.
"He knocked the gun out of my hand and then forced me back onto his desk. He was choking me with his cast on his broken arm. That's when he admitted that he knew who I was." I pause a moment and take a small breath, swallowing hard against the rotten memories. "Said I was one of the best fucks he'd ever had and would never forget someone like me."
Denning doesn't say anything, but she's now leaning over the table, enthralled with my story.
"Anyway...he was choking me," I tell her, and pull down the edge of my turtleneck so she can see the bruises that remain on my neck over a week after he choked me, although they're mostly faded. "I couldn't breathe...I was dying. I somehow got ahold of the letter opener and I swung at him. It went into his neck and I pulled it out. Then I swung again, I think out of reflex...I'm not sure. I was able to push him off me and he fell to the floor. I watched him die. It didn't take long."
"Why didn't you call the police?" Denning asks. "If what you say is true, it would have been self-defense."
"Would you have believed me, given the fact I went to my rapist's house with a gun and then stabbed him in the neck?"
"There's no telling now, is there?" she counters. "There's no evidence left. Blood spray on your clothes, the weapon...the positioning of where the gun landed. None of that for us to see now."
"I know," I whisper, looking down at my hands.
"What did you do with the letter opener and your clothes?" she asks.
And this is where I determine the interview is over. I am never telling her what happened to those items. "I'm invoking my right to remain silent."
"What?" she asks
in surprise.
"I've told you what you need to know. I've got my voice mail proving he contacted me and the bruises on my neck. If that won't amount to self-defense along with my story, I'll let the chips fall where they may."
"Did Beck North dispose of that evidence for you?"
I say nothing but stare at her with stony resolve.
"Did Mr. Townsend ever admit to you that he raped Caroline North?"
Not answering that one either.
"Did Mr. North help you cover up your crime?"
Silence.
"Did you tell Mr. North what you did?"
Crickets.
"Miss Halstead, if you want me to believe this story, which started out with you telling me Mr. Townsend raped you, why didn't the DNA in your case match up to Mr. Townsend when we put it in the system?"
I look at her sadly and decide to answer in a self-loathing whisper. "I don't know. I think I may have been wrong about all of that."
Shit, fuck, shit, fuck.
Pace to one side of the police reception lobby, turn and pace to the other side.
The young cop sitting duty watches me warily, and I'm sure I'm making quite the spectacle. Mumbling obscenities to myself, constantly pulling my phone out to check the time, even though there's a plain wall clock just behind the reception desk.
I'd woken up and saw Sela wasn't in bed. Didn't even need to call out her name or search the apartment. I could tell by the stillness in the air and the dread pushing down on my chest she'd made a run for the police station to confess. I immediately called her cell but she didn't answer. I then called Doug and told him to meet me at the Sausalito Police Department. I was sure that's where she was.
I'm so angry at her right now I should just leave her here to rot. I should after she refused to speak to me. But I suppose the damage is done and now I have to figure out how to not only get myself out of this mess but get Sela out as well.
Shit, fuck, motherfucker, fuck.
The door to the station opens and I see Doug walking in, looking very different in a pair of dark jeans, a UCLA sweatshirt, and hiking boots. His hair is flattened on one side, and that tells me he rushed out of his home as soon as I called him without even bothering to use a comb.
I jerk my chin to the outside and give him a pointed look. He gets the message, that we need to talk in privacy, and heads back out. Before I follow him, I look back to the cop. "I'm going to be standing just outside. I need to talk to Detective Denning when she's done."
He nods at me, looking completely mystified by the events that occurred this morning. I'm sure he's never encountered someone walking in before to confess to murder.
Doug is waiting for me a few paces from the door, leaning back against the pale red brick exterior of the building. It's not quite seven A.M. and the early morning rush-hour traffic is starting to pick up, but for now we're alone on the sidewalk.
"You said on the phone that Sela came here to confess to killing JT," Doug says to start the conversation.
I nod, and I'm sure Doug knows the look of irritation on my face is not for him. "Yeah...She's in there right now spilling her guts. I tried to talk to her but she wouldn't see me."
"Did she do it?" he asks, and I can tell by the tone of his voice he doesn't expect me to admit anything, but I can't hold anything back now.
"Yes," I tell him bluntly, and he physically jerks in surprise, pushing off the building.
"She killed JT?" he asks. "And you didn't think to tell me this as a defense to the charges against you?"
I give him an exasperated look, wondering if this man has ever felt the power of love or the need to protect the way I have.
"I was sort of banking on the fact that I didn't actually do it would save me," I tell him dryly. "Handing Sela over was not an option."
"Tell me what happened, and I need the full truth so I can figure out options at this point," he says, and there's no missing the chastisement in his voice.
Taking a deep breath, I give him the short version of the story. "He called Sela to come over to his house. Wanted to get her help in convincing me to let him remain in The Sugar Bowl. He got angry when she wouldn't and came after her. Was choking her. She got the letter opener and stabbed him in self-defense."
Doug's lips flatten out in a look that says, That's the most ludicrous, unbelievable story that I've ever heard.
"Just do something to help her," I snap at him.
"Beck, I can't represent Sela," he says, and this surprises me. "My duty is to you, and that's a conflict to represent her. But tell me everything from the beginning so I can figure out if this helps you in any way."
"Doug," I snarl at him in frustration. "I don't need help. Sela does. I need you to do something."
And yeah...that last little bit was begging on my part.
He nods at me, holds a finger up, and digs into his pocket. Pulling his phone out, he flips through the contacts and dials someone. When the call is connected he says, "Kerry, Doug Shriver. I've got someone down at Sausalito PD confessing to murder with a self-defense element and is going to need a sharp attorney."
He listens for a moment and then turns to me to ask, "Assume money is not an object?"
I shake my head. "I'll pay whatever the fees are, as well as bail."
Putting his mouth to the phone, he says, "You hear that? Good. See you soon."
When he disconnects, he shoves the phone back into his pocket and says, "You know that story didn't sound plausible. That's going to be hard for her attorney to work with...JT getting that angry with her in his own home and trying to kill her just because she refused to help him out."
I blow out a heavy breath, scratch at the back of my neck, and look at him intently. "Yeah, well, there's more to it."
"Such as?"
"JT raped her ten years ago," I tell him. "She had been drugged and only recently realized who he was when she saw him on TV. She was going to go to the police because DNA was taken in her case, but we wanted him out of The Sugar Bowl first. We had a plan we were trying to follow."
"Wait a minute," Doug says holding up a hand. "JT raped both Sela and Caroline?"
"He was a sick fuck, what can I say?"
"But his DNA didn't hit with her rape," he points out.
"Yeah, well that sort of threw us for a loop in court yesterday," I grumble. "I haven't really had a chance to talk to Sela about that, but the most logical explanation is that the DNA taken off her was from one of her other attackers. Her memory is spotty from being drugged."
"Attackers?" Doug asks with disgust.
"Three of them. She thought JT was the one who left the sample behind, but clearly she's wrong. It had to be one of the others."
"Any chance she's wrong in her ID of him?" he asks hesitantly, but it's something I've asked myself already and I know damn well Sela's wondering the same thing.
I shake my head and tell him adamantly, "No. She clearly remembers his tattoo from that night and it's distinctive. But more than that, he recognized her. As he was choking her, admitted he remembered her from that night. Up until then, we thought JT just didn't recognize her. She had darker hair when they first met a few months ago, but apparently we were wrong."
"So he came after her because of that," he posits. "He couldn't take the chance of what she'd do."
"I'm sure he even figured out we were trying to get him out of the business to clear the way to go to the police," I tell him. "He knew it was all crumbling down. The gambling debt, me offering a buyout he could barely refuse, and Sela coming into his life again were no coincidence. Honestly, I could even make the argument JT lured her there with the intent to kill her."
"Now that is something I can finally wrap my head around," he agrees.
"So it's a good defense, right?" I ask, coming around full circle to the reason I called him here. I get he can't represent her and he has what I'm guessing is a very good attorney on the way. But I need to know.
"It's her word against his," Dou
g says. "What evidence does she have to prove what she's saying?"
"She doesn't," I admit heavily. "The letter opener and clothes she was wearing are gone."
He holds a hand up. "I don't want to know any more about that. That makes me a potential witness against Sela."
Shit, fuck, shit.
This has gotten so goddamned complicated, I'm terrified that there's no way out for either of us.
"Beck," Doug says softly to get my attention. "Sela confessing is not going to make the charges against you go away. You know that, right?"
I nod my acceptance. "I didn't figure it would. It's why I told her not to do it."
"Well, Kerry Suttenson is a fantastic lawyer. One of the best. She'll do all she can to help Sela. Now I'll certainly make a motion to have the charges against you dismissed, but it's a one-in-a-million shot."
Before I can respond, the station door opens and Detective Denning sticks her head out and looks at us. "Mr. North, Mr. Shriver, let's talk and I'll fill you in on what's going on."
We follow her in, where she leads us to a small office that has her name in brass on the outside of the door. We walk in and I'm surprised to see ADA Hammond there, looking polished and like the cat who just ate the canary.
We shuffle into the small space when Denning motions us inside. She doesn't follow us in but rather pulls the door shut so we are left alone with the district attorney.
"I just wanted to let you both know that Miss Halstead is being booked right now on first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit murder," she says brusquely. "I'll be amending the charges against Mr. North to also include conspiracy."
"What does that mean?" I ask, turning to Doug, who doesn't look surprised by this news.
But before he can answer me, Hammond says, "Your girlfriend's cute, Mr. North...thinking that by confessing we'd drop the charges against you. All that tells me is that you were both in on it together, but even if you weren't, we'll let a jury figure it all out."
I open my mouth to tell that bitch to bite me, but Doug lays a restraining hand on my forearm, which silently tells me to shut the fuck up.
"Miss Hammond, I'm going to enter a temporary appearance as Miss Halstead's attorney, just until her attorney can get here. I'd like to see her immediately and I'll stay with her until Kerry Suttenson can arrive."