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

you did do, before he could reach climax, was cut your lover’s throat .... “
    Pale, Brett shut her eyes. “Perhaps,” Caroline went on, “you didn’t count on being spattered with his blood. That’s why you made up the story about giving CPR to a man who was semi-decapitated. But you planned the rest of it to look like a robbery. Which is why you took the knife and the wallet, meaning to throw them both away. “But you were stoned, too, and sickened by what you’d done. You panicked and then ran to the Jeep, crazy to get out. But you only got a little ways past the trailhead when you had to stop and throw up.”
    “No!” Brett sat rigid in her chair. “That’s not right—” Caroline made herself finish. “You were caught with the knife and the wallet, with blood all over you. You needed a new story and were in no shape to give one. So you pretended to be so stoned you were a blackout victim, and spent the next eight hours trying to come up with an alibi that covered those facts. “And after all that, the best you could do is a dope dealer who followed James Case to Heron Lake at night so that he could slit his throat over a few thousand dollars.” Brett curled forward, elbows on her knees. “So are you really sure about taking the wallet?” Caroline asked softly. “Maybe James left it in the Jeep. That would certainly be nice. “It would also be nice if the police were barred from using your three different statements—’nothing happened’; ‘he might be at the lake’; and ‘a drug dealer must have killed him’—and even better if they aren’t allowed to testify that it took eight hours for you to give the last one. So I would hope very hard that the first cop didn’t warn you.” Caroline paused for emphasis. “Because if he blew it, and if you’re very lucky, they also won’t be able to use the warrant they got after you sent them to the lake. And that means no blood spatters, no nail samples, and—essentially—no evidence.” Hands to her face, Brett neither moved nor spoke. Quietly, Caroline asked, “Are you listening, Brett?”
    Slowly, Brett looked up at her. She was ashen. “You’d have a clean slate, and all the police would have is you, a knife, and a body. It’s not enough. And even if Jackson Watts thinks it is, you can decide then whether to testify, knowing that whatever you said before can no longer be used against you. “That—at worst—is what I want for you.” Brett seemed to gather herself. “It’s like you’re accusing me.”
    “Not accusing. Demonstrating.” Brett’s voice rose. “I had no reason to do this .... “
    “No motive.” Caroline smiled faintly. “That is a problem with case number one. Which is why that case may never come to trial. “Which brings me to case number two.” Pausing, Caroline spoke to her in a different tone, quiet and compassionate. “Can you stand any more of this? It’s important.” It seemed to bring Brett back to her. “I guess I have to,” she murmured. Caroline settled back. “Case two,” she said, “is manslaughter. But in some ways, this will be even harder for you to hear.” Brett was still, watching her. “It’s very simple.” Caroline’s voice was quiet again. “You never planned to kill him. You got drunk, and then stoned. Quarreled over something. Lost your temper. “You weren’t rational. In a surreal impulse, you simply cut his throat before you even knew what you had done.” Brett’s eyes were open, staring. Gently, Caroline finished. “You may not even remember killing him. Or, perhaps, don’t wish to remember. So you told the police a story you badly need to believe.” Brett averted her eyes. “We never fought—”
    “The knife,” Caroline interrupted. Slowly, reluctantly, Brett turned to her. “What about it?”
    “The knife is critical. If they can trace it to James, or to you, then the case I just described to you may not be the prosecution theory. It may be your best defense. To a
    charge of murder one.” Caroline’s voice became quiet; she reached out,