Part 13 (1/2)
The schedules of students at Wes...o...b..ook had been computerized two years ago, thanks to the diligence of an intern who happened to be a technical whiz. It took Jack less than ten minutes to find Catherine Marsh's whereabouts. Within an hour, he was standing behind a large oak at the edge of the campus, watching as girls pa.s.sed by in small cl.u.s.ters, bright b.u.t.terflies lighting from conversation to conversation.
Catherine was walking alone, the first stroke of luck since this whole debacle had begun. Sweat broke out on his brow as he willed her to come closer. The sun glinted off the bra.s.s clutch of her knapsack, momentarily blinding him.
He reached out to grab her upper arm. Pressing her up against the tree, his hand clapped over her mouth. Catherine's eyes went wide with fear, then suddenly softened. He let go of her. ”Coach,” she said, smiling, as if she had not overturned the whole bowl of his life.
He swallowed, reaching for reason, but it was the anger that finally pushed one sentence through, rough and rusty as a spike. ”Catherine,” Jack hissed, ”what the h.e.l.l h.e.l.l did you do?” did you do?”
She had never seen him angry before. Well, maybe once or twice, but that usually had to do with a player whose mind was on some stupid guy instead of practice. The bite of his fingers into the bones of her shoulders scared her with one heartbeat, then thrilled her the next. He came here for me, He came here for me, she thought. she thought.
Suddenly, he got himself under control again. ”What did you tell them?”
In that moment, her feelings were a featherbed, downy and inviting. Catherine took a deep breath and jumped. ”That I love you.”
”You love love me,” he repeated, the words sounding all wrong on the twist of his mouth. ”Catherine, you don't love me.” me,” he repeated, the words sounding all wrong on the twist of his mouth. ”Catherine, you don't love me.”
”I do. And I know you love me, too.”
”Anything I've ever said to you or done with you I would have said or done with any student,” Coach said. ”Catherine, you've got to stop lying to them. Don't you see I could end up in jail?”
For a moment, Catherine's heart stopped beating. And then she realized this was a test. A way of safeguarding his heart, until her own was laid bare. She smiled tremulously. ”You don't have to hide the truth anymore.”
”The truth?”
”You know ... how we're going to be together.”
His eyes flashed. ”Before or after I'm tried for a felony?”
”Oh, Jack,” Catherine whispered, and she reached out to him.
He recoiled, unwilling to touch her, unwilling to be touched by her. And this, finally, gave Catherine pause. Even as she called to him, he continued to back away with his palms raised, as if he was no longer seeing a pretty young girl but a poisonous snake that might strike when he least expected.
”Of course she's skittish,” the prosecutor said gently to Reverend Marsh. Loretta Winwood folded her hands on her desk, patient. ”If she wasn't reluctant to testify, I'd be concerned about her motivations. But it's common to have underage witnesses balk. In fact, a hesitant witness on the stand is a powerful piece of evidence in a statutory rape case.”
”But you heard her! She says she made the whole thing up.”
Loretta gave the man a moment to compose himself. Poor guy, to find out just a few days ago that his daughter had been carrying on an affair with a teacher and then today to have her recant in a puddle at his feet. It was at moments like this that she truly understood why attorneys were called counselors. ”Reverend Marsh, do you believe her?”
”My daughter's a good Christian girl.”
”Yes, but she's either lying about this s.e.xual affair ... or she's lying about lying about it.”
Marsh pressed his fingers to his temples. ”I don't know, Ms. Winwood.”
”What reason would Catherine have to make up a story about a consensual s.e.xual relations.h.i.+p that doesn't exist?”
”None.”
”All right. Now, let's a.s.sume that she has been involved in a relations.h.i.+p with Dr. St. Bride, upsetting as that is to consider. What reason would Catherine have to suddenly retract everything she's confessed?”
Marsh closed his eyes. ”To save him.”
Loretta nodded. ”One reason it's against the law to have intercourse with people under the age of sixteen is because minors are so susceptible to manipulation. What your daughter just told me-well, I see it a lot, Reverend Marsh. Unfortunately, these girls are are in love. And once they triumphantly tell the world and the object of their affection is carted off in cuffs, they suddenly wonder if that was such a good idea.” in love. And once they triumphantly tell the world and the object of their affection is carted off in cuffs, they suddenly wonder if that was such a good idea.”
”Can ... can you force her to be a witness?”
”I can force her to sit on the stand, but if she won't testify, she won't testify. That's why so many of these cases never make it to trial.” She closed the file in front of her. ”If Catherine tells the jury this affair existed only in her imagination, I can't impeach her with her prior statements to the contrary. We have some incriminating evidence ... but nothing as strong as Catherine's testimony. And I'm sorry to say that means Jack St. Bride will most likely be acquitted-and will most likely seduce another underage girl in the future.”
Marsh's face mottled pink. ”He'll burn in h.e.l.l one day.”
This was a gray area in the law. If Catherine had been lying today about never having s.e.x with St. Bride, it wasn't really exculpatory evidence ... which meant her confession didn't have to be turned over to the defense ... which meant that Melton Sprigg would not know that Catherine was unwilling to testify against his client. ”h.e.l.l would be fine,” Loretta said. ”But there might be something a little more immediate.”
”A plea bargain?” Jack said. ”Doesn't that mean they're running scared?”
The attorney shook his head. ”Most cases that go to court ... well, ten percent are sure wins for the county attorney, and ten percent are sure losses. But the bulk of the cases-eighty percent-fall smack in the middle. Prosecutors offer pleas all the time, because they ensure a conviction.”
”So what am I, Melton? The ten percent that wins or the ten percent that loses?”
”With you, the odds are more like five percent on either side, ninety in the middle. Rape trials, Jack ... a lot of the time, it comes down to one person's word against another's. Conviction or acquittal could hang on whether the jury had a good breakfast that day.”
”I'm not taking a plea,” Jack said. ”I won't admit to something I never did.”
”Well, just hear me out, then, all right? Because my job description says I have to read it to you.” Melton handed him the fax. ”They're willing to reduce the charge to a misdemeanor s.e.xual a.s.sault. Eight months in jail, no probation. It's a good deal, Jack.”
”It's a good deal for someone who's G.o.dd.a.m.ned guilty!” Jack cried. ”I never touched her, Melton. She's lying.”
”Do you think you can convince twelve jurors of that? Do you really want to play that kind of Russian roulette?” He lifted Jack's mug and took his napkin from underneath it, then drew a line down the middle with his pen. At the top he wrote PRO PRO and and CON CON. ”Let's look at what happens if you go to trial. Best-case scenario? You get acquitted. Worst-case scenario? You get convicted of a cla.s.s B felony. You get sent to the state penitentiary for seven years.”
”I thought the sentence was three and a half years to seven.”
”Only if you get paroled, Jack. And to get paroled, you'd have to complete the s.e.x offender treatment program there.”
Jack shrugged. ”How hard could that be?”
”You're not going to make it through day one unless you're very forthcoming about every aspect of your s.e.x offense. Which means you have to walk in there and tell them you have a thing for little girls.”
”That's bulls.h.i.+t,” Jack said.
”Not if you're convicted. In the mind of the parole board, you've committed that offense. Period. And you don't get paroled until you're amenable to treatment.”
Jack dug his thumbnail into a scar on the table. ”The plea,” he managed to say. ”What's the pro?”
”First, you're serving eight months, period. If you spend every second screaming you're innocent, they're still going to release you after eight months. Second, you're serving time at the county jail, the Farm. You're outside, working. It's a whole different ball of wax from the State Pen. You finish your sentence and you go on with your life.”
”I'd still have a conviction on my record.”
”A misdemeanor,” Melton pointed out. ”You can get it annulled after ten years, like it never existed. A felony s.e.xual a.s.sault charge-well, that's with you for life.”
To his horror, Jack felt tears climbing the ladder of his throat. ”Eight months. That's a h.e.l.l of a long time.”