By reason of insanity

109

They met at the Barnes amp; Noble bookstore located on the edge of Colonial Williamsburg, across the street from the College of William and Mary. Rosemarie suggested they go for a walk-a quiet stroll down the tree-lined Duke of Gloucester Street, a cobblestone road that took visitors back more than two hundred years. For Cat, it also had the effect of taking her back just eight years, to her senior year in college, adding another layer of stress to an already confusing day. If the quaint colonial setting was supposed to be relieving Cat's anxiety, it was not working.

After walking a few minutes and telling Rosemarie how great it felt to be out of jail, Cat got down to the point of her visit. "I saw the murder of Richard Hofstetter Jr.," Cat said. "It felt like I was sitting right in the Hofstetters' living room." She was still wound tight as she remembered the ghostly figures, images burned into her mind. "I saw Hofstetter and Annie argue."

Cat looked off into the distance. The trees cast shadows across the street while late-summer tourists traveled in small packs, their noses glued to their guidebooks, figuring out what attraction to see next. Cat couldn't even remember when life had seemed so simple.

"Annie pulled out a gun and started threatening Hofstetter with it," Cat continued. "She backed him down, made him kneel and beg. He was on his knees when she pulled the trigger. That's when the vision faded-exploded, really. The last thing I saw was Annie dropping the gun, putting her hands over her mouth, and screaming."

Cat paused. Just recounting the vision had drained her energy and constricted her chest. She glanced at Rosemarie as they walked and couldn't quite read the psychiatrist's expression. "Quinn wasn't even in the room," Cat said. "He didn't shoot his brother-in-law."

She had been wrestling with the implications the entire drive to Williamsburg. Quinn was innocent! How could she keep that information to herself? She had to do something.

But if freeing Quinn meant that Annie went to jail, how could Cat possibly tell anyone other than Rosemarie? Quinn would hate her for exposing his sister to serious jail time, for separating his niece from her mother. Cat needed Rosemarie Mancini's advice, and as usual, the psychiatrist was one step ahead.

"I know all that," Rosemarie said. "But this was undoubtedly part of Quinn's plan all along. I don't think he ever intended to let his sister stay in jail. He wanted to give the second jury a chance to do the right thing at trial, but if they didn't, he was ready to take the blame. When it became obvious that putting his confession on the table would also help him nail Marc Boland, he played his ace early."

Cat was stunned that Rosemarie seemed to take this all in stride. "He told you this?" Cat asked.

"He didn't have to. I was Annie's psychiatrist, remember?" Rosemarie looked up at Cat as they walked. "You, I could never completely figure out. But Annie was an open book. She killed her husband, Catherine. It happened exactly the way Annie described it in court.

"But Quinn always covers his bets. I knew he had something radical planned. I saw it in his eyes when I talked to him about Sierra, about the need to break the chains of abuse that get passed from one generation to the next. I knew he had a plan he wasn't telling me about, an ace in the hole.

"Did you notice how carefully he crafted his own confession?" Rosemarie continued. "If he had made it appear too much like self-defense or defense of others, Carla Duncan would have been suspicious. She would have seen it as a contrived attempt to make sure nobody went to jail for the murder. But by saying he shot Hofstetter after the man dropped his knife, Quinn guaranteed he would end up taking Annie's place in jail."

Rosemarie motioned toward an ancient brick building on their left, rimmed by a graveyard on the side and back. "St. Bruton's Parish," Rosemarie said. "It was on the tour I took yesterday. Want to peek inside?"

Cat shrugged. Not really. She had seen the church a few times during her college years. But Rosemarie had already veered off to see if it was open. Finding it locked, she banged loudly on the thick wooden door.

"A shame," she said. "It's really peaceful in there."

"So you're thinking I shouldn't say anything?" Cat asked, trying to get the conversation back on topic.

"Have a seat," Rosemarie said, plopping down on the front steps of the church. She dusted off a place next to her, and Cat reluctantly sat down. Filled with tension, Cat wanted to keep moving. Besides, she needed answers, not a counseling session.

"The answer to your question requires you to understand the purpose of these visions-does it not?" Rosemarie paused, but only for a moment, not really expecting Cat to answer. "I don't think we'll ever know for sure why God chose you as His messenger, but He did. I know the visions sometimes felt like a curse, but look at the results: they exposed a serial killer, restored the Carver family, helped recover the Milburn baby, and saved Quinn Newberg's life. That's hardly a curse."

Cat had been thinking some of these same thoughts recently. Somehow, the visions that had landed her in jail had also helped bring two killers to justice. The visions were still a mystery, unlike anything Cat had ever experienced, but the timing of the visions and the uncanny results were strangely comforting. And the visions seemed purposeful to Cat, not like the random paranormal activity or the "scientific" telepathy theories she had studied. Cat's visions were something different. Something good.

"You've read the book of Daniel," Rosemarie continued. "Did you notice that Nebuchadnezzar called God the 'revealer of mysteries'? God hasn't changed." Rosemarie turned and looked at Catherine. "We can't always understand God's reasons or methods, but we can learn to trust what He reveals to us. Your first three visions were to help others. This last vision, Catherine, might be God's gift only to you. Maybe you're not supposed to use it to set Quinn free. Maybe God is just showing you something about Quinn's character, telling you it's okay to follow your heart.

"Don't get me wrong; I don't condone the way Quinn misled the court about Hofstetter's murder. But Quinn made a choice. He decided to use a false confession to trap both Marc Boland and Richard Hofstetter Sr. He decided to trade his own freedom for the freedom of two women he loves. And he helped a third reclaim her mother. The thing is, if he had to do it again, I'm sure he'd make the same decision."

Cat didn't respond. She had never been very comfortable talking about matters of faith. Now Rosemarie was digging up Cat's feelings toward Quinn and tossing them into the stew as well. She sat there next to Rosemarie in silence as the tourists paraded past: old men with shorts and black socks, children in strollers, couples holding hands.

It was a strange place to have a spiritual moment, but Cat couldn't deny that something significant was happening. It certainly wasn't a leap of faith-more like an insight or realization, the way Cat felt when the pieces of a news story fell together. God had been pursuing her. Trusting her with these visions. Loving her enough to show her these things. Maybe it was time to listen.

Maybe it was time to start returning that trust.

Rosemarie looked down the street and smiled at a kid who had buried his face in a chocolate ice cream cone. She stood and brushed off the back of her pants.

"You ready to head back?" she asked.

"Sure."

Since the street was closed to motor traffic, the two of them shuffled along in the middle of the road, dodging horse manure, feeling the gravel crunch against the cobblestone under their feet. It was Rosemarie who spoke first.

"You know I don't like to preach to my patients," she said.

Catherine turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," said Rosemarie. "Maybe a little. But there's this Scripture verse about Jesus that says, 'No one has greater love than this, that he should lay down his life for his friends.' Think about that-it's the most noble thing a person can do, putting his own life on the line for someone else. And in Quinn's case, it was something more-a ten-year-old boy finally discovering the courage to act.

"Love him for it, Catherine, but don't try to take that away."