Chasing The Dead

Chapter Nineteen

Friday morning, Grace Canfield met Alex outside the courtroom of Associate Circuit Court Judge Noah Upton, who would preside over Jared Bell’s initial appearance. Grace gave her an up-and-down appraisal, nodding her head and pursing her lips.

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“Uh-huh, what?” Alex asked.

“Since when do you wear your fancy black pantsuit and white ruffled blouse to an initial appearance? That’s what. And am I wrong or are you wearing blush?”

“What on earth are you talking about? I wear black pantsuits all the time,” Alex answered, ignoring the question about her makeup.

“Not the one with the fancy stitched pattern on the jacket lapels that Bonnie gave you for your last birthday, and you were the one who told me that makeup violated your official lesbian dress code.”

Alex folded her arms across her chest, not wanting to admit that Grace was right. When she woke up this morning, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time-happy. Bonnie loved her and wanted to start a family. Last night’s anxiety about whether she would ruin all of that had given way to a morning filled with images of the two of them pushing a baby stroller down the sidewalk on a warm summer day. She didn’t know how long the feeling would last before harsh reality set in again, but she would ride the wave as long as she could. Getting ready for work had felt more like getting ready for a date, so she dressed up and put on a little blush for Bonnie, who giggled and groped her, nearly making both of them late.

“Do we really have to talk about this now?”

“No, but you start coming to work like this all the time and we’re gonna talk about it, because I’m gonna want some of whatever’s put a skip in your step.”

Alex laughed. “Fair enough. What did you find out about our client?”

Grace shook her head. “Nothing that’ll do you any good this morning. I talked to his mother, Diane. She still lives in Goodland, Kansas. She was so glad to hear he was alive that she couldn’t stop crying. When she finally did, she told me they hadn’t heard from him in a couple of years. Said he came home from the war a mess and they woke up one day and he was gone.”

“Did she know anything about someone named Ali?”

“Only that she heard him calling out her name in his sleep, but when she asked him who that was he said he didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“Anything else?”

“We can find out if Jared’s been treated at the VA hospital if he signs this release.” Grace opened a thin manila folder and handed the form to Alex, who slid it into her case file. “I can request his service records, but that takes a while.”

“Not if we can cut through the red tape.”

“Girl, if you got a pair of them scissors, let me have ’em.”

“I don’t, but I met someone yesterday who might. His name is Mathew Woodrell. He’s a Vietnam vet who helps other vets with their problems.”

“Where do I find him?”

“I don’t know. Check with Veterans Affairs. He was in the Eighty-Second Airborne.”

“You don’t have a phone number or e-mail address?”

“Sorry. I only talked to him for a minute. He said he’d just come from the probate clerk’s office. He was trying to help another vet with something. Maybe they’ve got contact information.”

“Description?”

“He’s a little guy, not more than five-seven, short gray hair, has to be in his early seventies at least, and he was wearing a military pin for having served in Vietnam.”

“And he’s white,” Grace said.

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Because white is the default race for white people. If he’d been black, you would have said so.”

Alex raised her eyebrows, blushing. “I. . I. .”

“Never thought about it. I know. Most white folks don’t. Well, that’s a start.” Grace glanced at her watch. “It’s go time.”

“Then let’s go,” Alex said, leading the way into the courtroom and taking her place at the defendant’s counsel table.

Kalena Greene was already seated at the prosecution’s counsel table. She and Alex exchanged good mornings as two deputies escorted Jared into the courtroom, shuffling, his wrists and ankles shackled. He gave her a shy smile. Alex smiled in return, pleased that she’d made a connection, putting her arm around his shoulder for a moment.

“Hi, Jared. Say hello to Grace Canfield. She’s an investigator in my office.”

“Hey,” he said to Grace.

“Hey, yourself,” Grace said. “Alex is the best. She’s gonna take real good care of you.”

“Hope so,” he said.

Alex was struck again by how soft and quiet Jared was, as if he was afraid to raise his voice. She had difficulty imagining him as a killer. Even though he may have killed while serving in combat, he didn’t strike her as the kind of civilian who had slid down that slope all the way to murder.

“How are they treating you, Jared?” Alex asked.

He shrugged. “Okay. Everyone’s pretty much leaving me alone.”

“I hear that. Like I told you yesterday, we won’t be here long. This hearing is mostly a formality.”

“Like the army, huh. Rules for everything.”

“Yeah. Like the army. A couple of quick things before the judge comes in. Have you been treated at the VA hospital here?”

“A few times, mostly when the PTSD got crazy. They gave me some meds and told me to go to group therapy.”

“How’d that work out?”

He looked at the floor. “I sold the meds and skipped the group.”

Alex saw no reason to chide him. He’d have plenty of time for treatment in prison if she didn’t get him out, and if she did win his freedom, that would be the time to talk about getting well.

“I need you to sign this release,” she said, sliding the form toward him and handing him a pen, “so we can get your medical records. We may need the doctor who saw you to testify about your PTSD.”

“Are you sayin’ I could get off because of that?” he asked after signing the release, his signature more of a scrawl because of the handcuffs he was wearing.

“One second,” Alex said, handing the form to Grace. “Hand deliver it and tell them we need the records right away.”

“Sure thing. You know how excited bureaucrats get when someone tells them that.”

Alex raised her eyebrows at Grace.

“I’m on my way,” she said. “I’m on my way.”

Alex turned back to Jared. “Sorry. We may be able to use your PTSD as a defense, but if we’re going to do that, I have to find out everything about you, including whatever happened in Afghanistan that caused your condition.”

He hung his head, closing his eyes as a tremor rippled through his torso, then opening them and shaking his head. He didn’t say anything and Alex didn’t push.