16 Souls

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Present Day — September 14

Hyatt-Regency Hotel, Denver

The insistent banging on the hotel room door had fit uneasily into a complex dream involving byzantine collections of criminal defendants and a jury that had reacted to everything she said with derisive laughter. Judith’s brain finally sorted out which reality to pay attention to, and she sat bolt upright in the plush bed, the banging instilling a flash of fear.

She slipped on one of the hotel robes and moved to the door, checking the peep hole before turning the doorknob, incredulous to find a haggard Marty Mitchell standing on the other side looking like a refugee.

“What on earth?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t sleep?”

“It’s beyond that.”

She sighed. “Come in. Sit.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred to her that letting a distraught male into her bedroom in the middle of the night when she was clad only in a robe was a risky decision, but she dismissed it with a silent laugh.

“Marty, I need my sleep. I was up until one working on the closing argument. What time…” she glanced around at the clock on the nightstand. “Jeez! Three fifteen.”

There was a small round table between the bed and a bench seat under the window and he settled onto the window seat, his eyes red and wide.

“I figured it out, Judith.”

“Figured what out?”

“Richardson has been laying a huge trap and I fell right into it.”

She sat opposite him on the only chair, the table to one side, tempted to say that of course Richardson had been trying to lay a trap, but she could see that would be useless in calming him down.

“Tell me why you think that?”

“That criminal statute! The way the damn thing is written, it’s a Catch 22! He got me to say that I knowingly decided to land, and tomorrow he’ll tell them that it was the speed that means I condemned someone to death.”

“Marty, you said very clearly that you did not make any such decision.”

“No, no, no! Don’t you see? He’s already twisted everything up! The jury will believe that the only way I’d be innocent is if I followed the company’s dictates and slowed down. I’m screwed!”

“I’m ready to fight that interpretation. Yes, he’s going to make that argument, but all we need is one juror to think it through.”

“I want you to put me back on the stand!”

“Marty, I can’t do that.”

“Can’t you go to the judge? I have more to say… I can clear this up!”

Judith sighed, running her hand through her unruly hair after catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror looking like a Medusa. She stared at the rug, letting her mind deal with the interlocking geometric patterns woven into the carpet before meeting his eyes again.

“Marty, I think I know you well enough now to know you seldom if ever panic. Yet here you are, in the middle of the night, essentially panicking.”

“I’m sorry… I’m really sorry, Judith, but…”

“I’ve got a very strong closing for morning, Marty.”

“I thought if I could re-take the stand I could make them understand.”

She got up and moved to the small refrigerator, tightening the loose tie on the robe before taking out a chilled bottle of water.

“You want one?”

He shook his head.

She unscrewed the top and sat again.

“Marty, no lawyer likes to admit this, but you were right when you called it a game. But it’s a serious game, with serious rules, and in the end, it’s designed to get as close to a correct decision as humanly possible.”

“They don’t understand, Judith!”

“I think they will! But I cannot put you back on the stand unless there is new evidence, and there isn’t. We already proved the existence of the car on the runway… that was huge, Marty! Huge! It validated everything you said.”

She took a swig of the water and put the bottle on the table, then moved the chair forward and reached out, taking both his hands in hers, looking him in the eye.

“You promised to stay with me, Captain. Remember?”

“I am. I’m here.”

“But I need your courage as well.”

A tear had begun to roll down his face, and he turned in an attempt to hide it as she gave his hands a small shake.

“It’s going to be okay, Marty. I’m not supposed to say that… it’s unprofessional to speculate… but it’s going to be okay.”

His eyes were pools of anguish and pain, a watery window into his tortured soul.

“I’m scared, Judith,” he said at last, inhaling sharply as the admission left his lips, “…and I have no one else to tell.” The words were spoken so softly they barely registered. He snorted suddenly and looked at the ceiling. “Getting ready to kill myself on Long’s? I wasn’t a bit scared. But now… I’m… terrified. Far worse than in the cockpit that night.”

Mentally Judith stuffed a sock in the face of her better judgment and rose from the chair, sitting next to him then, pulling him to her, folding her arms around him until he leaned into her at last, his head resting on the fabric of the robe pulled tightly over her breasts as the silent tears morphed into body-racking sobs.