By reason of insanity

86

Catherine found out why Quinn hadn't objected about two seconds into his cross-examination.

"Wow," he said, buttoning his suit coat. "Isn't that straying a little far from your field of expertise-making predictions about crimes that haven't yet occurred? You're not a fortune-teller, are you?"

"Objection."

"Sustained."

Quinn smiled. "To your knowledge, did the police find any evidence that my client even knew where Mr. Towns lived?"

"No."

"Any evidence that she had contacted him since college?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"So your theory is that Catherine O'Rourke gets raped in college and then, eight years later, decides to kill her rapist but figures, 'Hey, before I even figure out where he lives I might as well kidnap a few babies and kill a few men I've never met first in order to deflect attention from me?'"

Gates stood, his face red. "Objection, Judge. That totally mischaracterizes the testimony."

"He can answer," Rosencrance ruled.

"When you don't deal with the kind of pain that Ms. O'Rourke suffered eight years ago, Mr. Newberg, it can cause you to do some pretty-" Chow hesitated as if searching for the right word-" desperate things."

"Is the word you were actually looking for more like bizarre or crazy? " Quinn asked.

"Objection."

"Sustained."

"Okay, let's switch gears. Were you aware that Detective Webb, acting as a confidential informant for the newspaper, told my client that Reverend Harold Pryor was a prime suspect and that he had no alibi?"

"I wasn't aware of that, no."

"Assuming that was the case," Quinn said, "does that affect your opinion on whether Ms. O'Rourke was just creating this 'mythical Avenger persona' to divert attention away from what you called her ultimate crime?"

Chow looked pensive, his brow knit. "No. I don't see why that would change anything."

In response, Quinn talked slowly, making sure Dr. Chow understood his point. "If Catherine O'Rourke knew she was the killer and wanted to deflect suspicions by inventing these visions, why didn't she provide a description of Reverend Pryor as the Avenger of Blood when she reported her visions to Detective Webb?"

Chow sat there for a moment, his brain apparently churning through different possibilities. "I'm not sure," he eventually admitted. "Perhaps she believed it would seem too obvious."

"Or perhaps," Quinn countered, "my client is telling the truth."

Quinn chipped away at Chow's opinion for several more hours on Friday, belittling the man's opinion that DID could not possibly have been caused by the rape that occurred during Catherine's college years. Quinn also suggested that the precipitating event Chow was supposedly searching for might have been Catherine's coverage of Anne Newberg's murder trial.

"Did it ever occur to you," Quinn asked, "that Catherine O'Rourke's extensive involvement with and coverage of that murder trial-where another woman took vengeance for years of abuse-might have triggered the manifestation of this alter personality in Catherine's life?"

Chow hesitated, but then answered confidently. "No, I don't believe that's the case."

"But you never even considered that possibility until this very moment, did you?" Quinn pressed.

"That's true," Chow admitted. "But that doesn't change my opinion."

"You've been paid too much to switch at the last minute; is that it?"

"Objection!" barked Gates. Then he mumbled loud enough for the jury to hear, "That's ridiculous."

"Sustained."

As Quinn battled with Chow, Catherine silently battled her own emotions. She still found it hard to believe this was her murder trial, her Vegas lawyer posturing and mocking and drawing objections left and right from the ever-serious Boyd Gates.

The emotion that surprised Catherine most, and the one she had the hardest time dismissing, was a growing attraction to the man who now commanded the courtroom. Catherine had always prided herself in being logical-a skeptical newspaper reporter who knew how to cut through appearances and smoke screens. And Quinn, she reminded herself, was a Las Vegas performer, a showman, a trial lawyer. He seemed to care deeply for her, but it was probably all just an act. Just a lawyer's way of bonding with a client.

Quinn obviously believed that Catherine had killed two men and kidnapped three babies. Bluntly put, he thought Catherine was certifiably crazy. How could he have feelings for her at the same time?

But there was no denying what had happened after court on Wednesday. Sure, Quinn had been comforting a troubled client. But there was more. Catherine had felt the electricity when they touched. She would never forget the way he brushed the hair behind her ear and grazed his fingers along her cheeks. Looking through the slot of the metal door, she had seen something special in Quinn's eyes, a look of pain because he couldn't hold her. Had she just been imagining that? Was this another way her mind was playing games on her, distorting reality by making her believe Quinn was a handsome prince here to deliver Cat from this nightmare, only to be disappointed when he moved on to another client at the conclusion of the case?

"No further questions," Quinn said, staring at the beleaguered witness for a moment before taking a seat. Gates did a quick redirect as the entire courtroom seemed to breathe a little easier, relaxing from the tension that Quinn had summoned for his cross-examination.

"It's nearly 4:00," said a weary Judge Rosencrance when Gates finished. "This may be a good time to adjourn for the weekend."

But Gates apparently did not want to leave the jurors with the words of Chow's cross-examination ringing in their ears. "The commonwealth has one more witness we would like to present today, if possible. Her direct examination won't take more than ten minutes."

Rosencrance sighed and turned to the defense lawyers. Quinn stood. "Your Honor, we'd like to let the jurors get a jump on the Friday afternoon traffic. And we wouldn't mind one ourselves."

The jurors, Catherine noted, looked grateful.

But Gates wasn't through. "As long as Mr. Newberg doesn't drag out this cross-examination, we can do both-hear the witness and get a jump on traffic."

"Okay," said Rosencrance, though her tone said she didn't like it, "call your next witness."

"The commonwealth calls Tasha Moorehouse."

Catherine couldn't believe it. She turned to the door that led to the holding cell. The deputy disappeared through the door and a few seconds later came back, trailed by Tasha. She took the stand, dressed in a nice pair of slacks and a blouse, her face stern and unyielding. She didn't even look in Cat's direction.

Why was Gates calling Tasha to the stand?

Maybe he just wanted her to provide corroborating testimony about Cat's fight with Holly or the day Cat went crazy when Kenny Towns appeared on television. Cat quickly scrolled through her memory of the thousands of conversations she'd had with Tasha, the way she had confided in her cellmate.

Cat couldn't recall a single incriminating statement. And even if she could, she couldn't imagine Tasha turning on her. They were both members of the Widows. Tasha had been on Cat's side since day one.

But Cat's stomach was in utter turmoil.

Why won't she look at me?