Read Online The Final Judgment by Richard North Patterson - Free Book Online Page A

you?” Brett’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think so .... All that I remember was staring at the knife. Nothing seemed to go together.”
    “Later, why did you tell them to look for James at the lake’?.”
    “It was the way I just described it—the guy who picked me up said someone might be out there, hurt, and it was like I saw James dying. I was still so confused.” Brett looked pale now. “I know how that sounds .... “
    “Did he give you the warnings then’?.” Brett’s throat worked; Caroline was not certain that she had heard the question. Then Brett softly answered, “I don’t remember warnings then. Later, I do-with the two of them and the tape recorder.” Caroline fell quiet, thoughtful. Brett turned to her, as if awakened by the silence. “Why does any of this matter?” She sounded less curious than tired. It was as if Brett had lost her bearings, so that no event had more weight to her than any other. For a moment, Caroline wondered how much to tell her. But Brett was bright and, beneath the whipsaw of emotions, Caroline sensed her resilience. “It’s a matter of police procedure,” Caroline answered. “The first cop probably should have given you the warnings before you told him where to look for James. Which means that a decent lawyer may be able to keep your entire statement out of evidence—” Brett stood abruptly. “But I want to say what happened—”
    “How,” Caroline cut in, “do you really know what happened.”?” Brett looked startled. “What do you mean?”
    “That drugs and alcohol do funny things to memory. What happens is that there are blanks, which you may never fill in. So people end up confusing primary memory—what really happened—with secondary memory. Which is what they wish to remember, or hope they did. Or simply believe is logical.” In the gloom of the bedroom, Brett began pacing. “It almost sounds like you don’t want me to remember.”
    “What it sounds like,” Caroline answered with cool emphasis, “is a warning. Not to remember, with the best of intentions, things that never happened. Because they may hang you for it.” Brett spun on her. “How?” Caroline stood, walked over to Brett until they were
    face-to-face, and gently grasped her shoulders. She felt so fragile, Caroline thought. Brett looked up at her in weary surprise; something in Caroline’s face seemed to keep her there. “Brett,” Caroline said softly, “you don’t know me at all. But I want you to listen to me, please, for a few more minutes, however hard it may be. Because I’ve been doing things like this since you were a little girl. And whoever handles this case—if there is a case—will need you to think clearly.” Brett gazed up at her. “You won’t do it?”
    “I really shouldn’t.” The look on Bret’s face, fearful and abandoned, made Caroline grasp her tightly. “We’re related. I think that makes this harder than we realized. For both of US.” Brett turned away. Gently, Caroline guided her back to the chair. When she sat across from her again, Brett was silent, fighting for composure. Damn him, Caroline thought. Damn him. Her headache had turned to nausea. Since her father had called, she realized, she had not eaten. “Let me explain,” she said slowly, “what the police case is. Because I already know. “There are two cases, actually. The first is premeditated murder. In that case, you decided to kill James well in advance. But he was much larger and stronger. So you took him to an isolated place—a lake at night—which you knew and he didn’t. You brought the knife and told him it was for the bread and cheese. You encouraged him to drink wine and then smoke dope, knowing that it made him sluggish. And it was you, when making love, who got on top of him ...” Brett’s mouth was half open; she looked stricken. Caroline forced herself to continue. “You never heard the sound of an intruder. The dope dealer story is preposterous. You never went swimming.” Caroline paused, took a breath, and finished. “What