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Authors: Carla Norton
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graves.”
“I’m telling you, I do not know any other girls. I only took one. Just Tilly. Just mine.”
Pierson sits very still, watching him.
“I’m sorry I took her, okay? I know it was wrong, okay? But I never hurt her. I mean, not really. Not like you think.”
Pierson sighs. “Well then,” he says finally. “So a plea is our best bet.”
“But if a trial could—”
“A trial will just give them an opportunity to grandstand. Think about it. Tilly Cavanaugh is a prosecutor’s dream.”
“But I told you, I took good care of her. I did. Good food, lots of water, a toothbrush. And vitamins. Really, no kidding, I did. I even gave her vitamins.”
“Right,” Pierson scoffs, studying the papers in his lap. “This is some sweet confession you handed them. You admitted that you kidnapped her. You described how you kept her locked up in your basement. Unless they screw up on a monumental scale, they’ve got you tied up and served cold. We’re talking child abduction, false imprisonment, and multiple counts of forcible rape, at minimum.”
“But you don’t understand. When I, when she…” His eyes tear up. “She was my precious little girl.”
Pierson grunts. “Listen, the DA is lining up a list of charges that will put you away for at least a hundred years. How sympathetic do you think a jury is going to be? A trial just gives the DA’s office a chance to grab headlines. They’ll make you out to be the Monster of Jefferson County.”
The lawyer keeps on talking, but his words have sparked an idea, and now Randy Vanderholt is thinking hard. He’s thinking about Duke, the man that his girl Tilly secretly called “Mister Monster.” He’s wondering if Duke had something to do with those other missing girls.
Because Duke sure seemed to know exactly what he was doing. So easy. So relaxed. Like he’d practiced everything before. And it was weird that Duke had pegged Randy for what he really was, first thing, when no one else ever did. “Takes one to know one,” Duke had said.
Pierson is still talking, but Vanderholt is barely listening. He rubs his jaw, worrying about how much danger he might be in, trying to work how much he might suffer later. He’s weighing his fear of Duke against his fear of spending the rest of his life in prison. It’s a lot to try to figure out, and he’s not good at this sort of thing, and the harder he tries, the blurrier his thinking gets.
“Um, I’m under suicide watch, right?” he blurts.
Pierson frowns, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. “You are, of course.”
“So, um, no one can get to me now, right? I mean, I’m safe here, right?”
Pierson leans forward. “What are you saying, man?”
Randy licks his lips. “This is, um, confidential, right? Attorney-client privilege, all that?”
“Of course. Why?”
He checks the door, clears his throat, and lowers his voice. “There’s another guy, okay?”
Pierson’s eyebrows shoot up. “An accomplice?”
Randy sees the eagerness in the attorney’s face and senses leverage. He sits forward. “But the guy’s tricky, okay? He’s smart.” His eyes check the door again. “And dangerous.”
“Yeah, okay, so what’s his name?”
Randy rolls his tongue around his mouth. “A deal, right? I can get a deal?”
“If you’re telling the truth, yes.”
“So, uh, how does that work, exactly?”
“I’ll set it up with the prosecutor just as soon as we know the charges.” Pierson puts his hands on his knees and leans forward, intent. “So tell me about this guy. What’s his name?”
Randy sucks his teeth, thinking. “Here’s the thing … His name, uh, I’m not for sure about that.”
“You’ve got an accomplice but you don’t know his name?” Pierson snorts. “Don’t jerk me around.”
“His name is, you know, like a street name.”
Pierson shoots him a skeptical look. “You’ve got to give me more than that.”
“I’ll give it all to you, I can ID him,” Randy adds
“I’m telling you, I do not know any other girls. I only took one. Just Tilly. Just mine.”
Pierson sits very still, watching him.
“I’m sorry I took her, okay? I know it was wrong, okay? But I never hurt her. I mean, not really. Not like you think.”
Pierson sighs. “Well then,” he says finally. “So a plea is our best bet.”
“But if a trial could—”
“A trial will just give them an opportunity to grandstand. Think about it. Tilly Cavanaugh is a prosecutor’s dream.”
“But I told you, I took good care of her. I did. Good food, lots of water, a toothbrush. And vitamins. Really, no kidding, I did. I even gave her vitamins.”
“Right,” Pierson scoffs, studying the papers in his lap. “This is some sweet confession you handed them. You admitted that you kidnapped her. You described how you kept her locked up in your basement. Unless they screw up on a monumental scale, they’ve got you tied up and served cold. We’re talking child abduction, false imprisonment, and multiple counts of forcible rape, at minimum.”
“But you don’t understand. When I, when she…” His eyes tear up. “She was my precious little girl.”
Pierson grunts. “Listen, the DA is lining up a list of charges that will put you away for at least a hundred years. How sympathetic do you think a jury is going to be? A trial just gives the DA’s office a chance to grab headlines. They’ll make you out to be the Monster of Jefferson County.”
The lawyer keeps on talking, but his words have sparked an idea, and now Randy Vanderholt is thinking hard. He’s thinking about Duke, the man that his girl Tilly secretly called “Mister Monster.” He’s wondering if Duke had something to do with those other missing girls.
Because Duke sure seemed to know exactly what he was doing. So easy. So relaxed. Like he’d practiced everything before. And it was weird that Duke had pegged Randy for what he really was, first thing, when no one else ever did. “Takes one to know one,” Duke had said.
Pierson is still talking, but Vanderholt is barely listening. He rubs his jaw, worrying about how much danger he might be in, trying to work how much he might suffer later. He’s weighing his fear of Duke against his fear of spending the rest of his life in prison. It’s a lot to try to figure out, and he’s not good at this sort of thing, and the harder he tries, the blurrier his thinking gets.
“Um, I’m under suicide watch, right?” he blurts.
Pierson frowns, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. “You are, of course.”
“So, um, no one can get to me now, right? I mean, I’m safe here, right?”
Pierson leans forward. “What are you saying, man?”
Randy licks his lips. “This is, um, confidential, right? Attorney-client privilege, all that?”
“Of course. Why?”
He checks the door, clears his throat, and lowers his voice. “There’s another guy, okay?”
Pierson’s eyebrows shoot up. “An accomplice?”
Randy sees the eagerness in the attorney’s face and senses leverage. He sits forward. “But the guy’s tricky, okay? He’s smart.” His eyes check the door again. “And dangerous.”
“Yeah, okay, so what’s his name?”
Randy rolls his tongue around his mouth. “A deal, right? I can get a deal?”
“If you’re telling the truth, yes.”
“So, uh, how does that work, exactly?”
“I’ll set it up with the prosecutor just as soon as we know the charges.” Pierson puts his hands on his knees and leans forward, intent. “So tell me about this guy. What’s his name?”
Randy sucks his teeth, thinking. “Here’s the thing … His name, uh, I’m not for sure about that.”
“You’ve got an accomplice but you don’t know his name?” Pierson snorts. “Don’t jerk me around.”
“His name is, you know, like a street name.”
Pierson shoots him a skeptical look. “You’ve got to give me more than that.”
“I’ll give it all to you, I can ID him,” Randy adds
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