By reason of insanity

73

"Do you consider yourself a medium, Ms. O'Rourke?"

"No. Not really."

"And yet you just happened to know information about the crimes committed by the Avenger of Blood-information that the police had not released to anyone?"

"I had visions," Catherine said. "I saw the crimes happen in my visions."

"Visions," Quinn repeated, just like a skeptical prosecutor would.

Catherine frowned, as if she hadn't expected him to play the part so enthusiastically.

"Did you happen to see the face of the Avenger in these visions?"

"No. His face was obscured."

" His face. So you could tell the Avenger was a male?"

"Actually, no. I couldn't see the face at all."

"How tall was the Avenger?"

"I don't know-average height?"

"What distinguishing features did the Avenger have?"

"I don't know, Mr. Newberg. These were visions, not police sketches."

"But they provided enough detail for you to know, for example, that Paul Donaldson had a gash on his head?"

"Yes, but that was different."

"You saw him bleeding from that gash on his head; isn't that correct?"

"Yes," Catherine admitted reluctantly, "but I didn't know it was Paul Donaldson. I'd never even met the man."

"Yet somehow," Quinn said, leaning forward, "Donaldson's blood and your saliva ended up on the same paper towel in a trash can at your neighbor's house?"

"I never met the man," Catherine insisted.

"How do you explain the paper towels that the police found in the neighbor's trash containing his blood and your saliva?"

"Somebody set me up," Catherine said, sounding defensive.

"How do you explain the methohexital found in your neighbor's trash-another setup?"

"Yes."

"But if somebody decided to frame you, why would they plant incriminating evidence in a neighbor's trash can, where the police might not even find it, as opposed to your own trash can?"

Catherine didn't blink. "Maybe someone on the investigative team did it."

"And planted a strand of your hair on the seal of an envelope sent by the Avenger as well?"

"I don't know."

"Accusing the police of framing you for murder is a very serious thing, Ms. O'Rourke." Quinn sharpened his tone. "Do you have one shred of evidence to suggest that anybody on the Virginia Beach police force holds a grudge against you and would want to cover up the crimes of a serial murderer by framing you?"

"No."

"Then what could possibly be the motive for setting you up?"

"I don't know."

"Speaking of motive, Ms. O'Rourke, are you aware that Mr. Donaldson was accused of rape but was found innocent?"

"Yes."

"And the other victims of the Avenger were either accused rapists, attorneys who represented accused rapists, or the children of such persons?"

"I'm sorry," Catherine said, her tone weary. "I don't understand the question."

"Fair enough. I'll withdraw it. But let me ask you this-have you ever been raped?"

The question seemed to shrink Catherine, her self-esteem wilting before Quinn's eyes. "Yes," she said softly.

"What was the man's name?"

"Kenny Towns. I knew him in college."

"Was he a former boyfriend?"

"Yes."

"Were there others involved as well?"

"Possibly."

Quinn lowered his voice to match Catherine's tone. "What exactly did he do to you? How did it happen?"

The examination was staged, but the pain on Catherine's face was real. She looked down, her voice growing even quieter. "I don't want to say, Quinn. I get your point."

Quinn thought for a moment about stopping, but there would be no calling time-out on the witness stand. Catherine had to understand how hard a prosecutor would push. "Is it fair to say the pain is still very real, Ms. O'Rourke?"

Catherine sighed, then apparently decided to keep playing along. "Rape never goes away, Mr. Newberg."

"Was Mr. Towns ever convicted? Was he ever even prosecuted?"

"No. I never reported it to the police."

"Do you hate him, Ms. O'Rourke? Do you hate Kenny Towns?"

Catherine lifted her eyes and drilled them into Quinn. "Yes, I despise him."

"You hate him because he's a rapist. Because he violated you and because nobody ever held him to account-isn't that true, Ms. O'Rourke?"

Catherine answered with a stare. The pretend world of cross-examination had burned away in the smoldering anger of unresolved hurt. "I said I don't want to do this anymore."

"This is not a game, Ms. O'Rourke," Quinn responded. "Answer the question."

"It's not a game for me either, Quinn," Catherine said. She stood, nearly knocking her chair over backward. " Rape is not a game." Catherine's face was flushed in anger, her eyes piercing Quinn through the glass. "He violated me, Quinn. He drugged me and forced himself on me and then probably went out and rounded up his friends so they could have a turn. He bragged about it. He made me the laughingstock of the fraternity."

Her body sagged. "I know you're just trying to make a point, but I'm sick of this whole thing. Sick of sitting behind bars while Kenny Towns is out there living as if nothing happened."

She turned away from Quinn and retreated to the door behind her chair. She knocked on the door and waited for the guard.

"Catherine, sit down," Quinn said. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to see what you're up against."

"You made your point," Catherine said. "I've got to think about it."

The guard came and ushered Catherine out, leaving Quinn alone in the small booth, staring at the empty chair of his troubled client.

"That went well," Quinn said.