214 Palmer Street(69)
“Oh, Sarah.” He shook his head and laughed. “You’re too good for this world.”
FORTY-SEVEN
When the trial came to a close, Gavin was convicted on two counts each of first-degree reckless homicide and an additional charge of hiding a corpse. He was sentenced to seventy-four years in prison and twenty-eight years extended supervision.
Seventy-four years. Ridiculous, he thought.
In retrospect he’d have thought the trial would have gone better. It was his word against Sarah’s. He was the chief of police and she was, well, what was she? The brain-addled wife of a privileged guy whose parents bought him a car dealership, that’s who she was. Not even from around here, while Gavin had a lifetime of friends, co-workers, and relatives in the area. The number of people who owed him favors in law enforcement could fill a page.
His lawyer was incompetent, that was the problem. Attorney Brett Hughes, supposedly the best criminal lawyer in the state, had failed him big time. At first Hughes seemed like he’d be the hero in this story, talking smack about the case lacking a motive and Gavin’s impeccable record of conduct.
“Not even a parking ticket,” he’d noted almost gleefully. “And you’re a smart guy, the chief of police. Why would you kill two of your best friends from high school on someone else’s property? I’d like to see the defense build a case around that one.”
Gavin imagined he’d be cleared of the charges and then afterward, the two of them would go out for drinks, toasting his success. Hell, he even planned on picking up the tab.
The situation, which had started out well, quickly went downhill. At some point, Gavin saw an almost defeatist shift in Hughes, a change from wanting to get his client cleared of charges, to talking about reducing the length of his sentence via a plea deal.
That damn prosecutor, Tara Green, now she was a real ball-buster. Somehow, she’d found out he was in possession of the machete, which threw suspicion on his version of events regarding Jeremy’s death. Bert Aden identified it as being the one he’d owned when Gavin and Kirk were in high school. Bert claimed he knew it by the distinctive pattern, but admitted it was possible there existed more than one machete with that appearance. Attorney Green used this to discredit Gavin. “Why would a man sworn to uphold the law, display a murder weapon in his home?” she’d asked the jury. She also harped on the gunshot residue on Gavin’s hands and showed Stephanie Bickley’s photos on a large screen, the silencer on his gun clearly in view.
“Premeditated” was the word that reverberated around the court room. “Prepared” was the word he would have used, something he’d acquired from his years protecting the community, and he wanted a chance to say as much. He had a whole speech planned, but his attorney advised against it. “Let me do my job,” he’d said.
What a putz. Why had he listened to him?
Gavin, given the chance to speak at length, would have brought up other topics as well. Why weren’t Stephanie and Sarah charged with any major crimes? Both of them had trespassed on private property and Sarah had disturbed a crime scene. Seems like there was enough blame to go around, but he was the only one who caught some flak.
The fact that he’d been driving a squad car that night turned out to be problematic as well. The prosecution posited that he was using his position as police chief to circumvent the law. His revised take on it? He’d been about to leave work, but first returned a call to an old friend. Kirk had been frantic, sure that Sarah was at his old house and Gavin, being a good friend, left immediately to help him. He’d been in such a hurry that he hadn’t switched cars. The fact that he was in the squad car was a mere timing issue.
As for the rest of it? In his mind, the alternate version had unfolded like this: Sarah had been in a homicidal rage after finding out that Kirk and Clarice were having an affair. When he and Kirk arrived at the scene of the crime, Sarah was in the bomb shelter having already killed Clarice, whom she’d lured there under false pretenses. After they arrived, she killed Kirk right in front of him, and she would have killed Gavin too if he hadn’t overpowered her and taken the gun away. Then she knocked him unconscious with a crowbar. With enough reasonable doubt and a little help from the guys in the lab, they could have eliminated the gunshot residue issue altogether. Made it inconclusive. The photo evidence could have been cast into doubt as well. It was dark. He could have been holding a flashlight. He presented this version to his attorney, who did lay out the story during closing arguments, but even to Gavin’s ears Hughes’s presentation was less than compelling. It was all in the telling, and the idiot didn’t tell it correctly.
Gavin had kept his temper in check almost until the end, but after the prosecutor maligned his character saying he’d showed no remorse, he’d blown up at Hughes during their next private session.
“Why would I have remorse for something I didn’t do?” he’d demanded. “You need to point that out.”
“Look,” Hughes had said impatiently. “I’ve told you this already. You need to adjust your body language and facial expression if you want to appear sympathetic.” Gavin had years of experience reading people and it was clear: Hughes had given up on him.
And now he was stuck at the Dodd Correctional Institution, a maximum-security facility for adult males. A place he used to send people and now he was the place’s most eminent resident. To make matters worse, Natalie hadn’t come for a visit the day before, as she’d promised. He hoped she wasn’t giving up on him, but then why would she? The two of them were solid. When he’d met her she was working the night shift in a warehouse. With his help, she’d started her own business, a popular fashion boutique. He’d saved her from a lifetime of grunt work and she owed him for that.