The Perfect Marriage(72)

“How old is he? The son.”

“Seventeen.”

“And he’s very sick,” Miller said. “Leukemia.”

“Mr. Miller, do you represent the son too?”

The question seemed to catch Miller off guard. “I guess I do.”

“Guess again, Mr. Miller. It seems to me you have a conflict. If I understand Lieutenant Velasquez here, he’s looking for evidence that might exonerate your client, Wayne Fiske. That suggests to me that you should not be the person arguing that the police not be allowed to obtain that evidence from Owen Fiske. Does his mother want to hire a lawyer for her son, or should I appoint one for him?”

Miller said, “I think she’ll want to pick the attorney.”

“Very well, then. She has until Wednesday morning. Because at that time, I want to see everyone—you, the ADA, and counsel for Owen Fiske—in my courtroom and we’ll thrash this out.”



Jessica understood the logic of what Alex Miller was telling her. He had just returned from the judge’s chambers, had explained what was going to happen on Wednesday morning, and told her that they needed to find a lawyer to represent Owen between now and then.

Needless to say, she didn’t know another criminal defense lawyer, but Alex had that covered too. He recommended a friend of his named Lisa Kaplan.

“She’s very good,” Alex said. “A former ADA.”

After Miller left, Jessica explained the situation to Owen. Just like he behaved in every interaction they’d had since his father’s arrest, Owen took the news that the DA now wanted his DNA without any show of emotion. Almost as if it involved someone else.

“Your lawyer’s job will be to fight the subpoena,” Jessica explained. “If she’s successful, they won’t get to take your blood at all.”

“Why don’t I just give them my blood and get it over with?” Owen said. “It’ll get Dad out of jail.”

“Trust me, this is the right thing to do,” she said. “Dad agrees.”

“Okay,” Owen said, not sounding too convinced.

Jessica had no such mixed emotions. She would walk on broken glass that was on fire to protect her son. Even for the murder of her husband.

She wondered what James would think about what she was doing. She thought she knew the answer. He’d understand. Of everyone, James would understand.



If it had been up to him, Owen would have simply complied with the DNA request. He’d said as much to his mother, but she wouldn’t listen.

That was the problem right there: no one ever listened. Everyone was making decisions about what they thought was in his best interest, paying at most lip service to his thoughts and desires.





25

Judge Martin couldn’t hide a smile. “It’s like déjà vu,” she said.

Wayne sat at the defense table with Alex Miller at his side. Like before, he was in prison garb. Unlike the last time, Jessica was in the gallery. Also different this time was that Lisa Kaplan sat at the end of the table.

Wayne didn’t smile at the judge’s quip. To his mind, there was nothing amusing about what was about to unfold.

Salvesen came to his feet. “The DNA test that the court ordered Wayne Fiske to undertake came back as only a partial match,” he said. “That means that the person who left blood at the crime scene is a blood relative to Mr. Fiske, but not Mr. Fiske. We are here today to seek an order to compel Mr. Fiske’s only child, Owen Fiske, to provide DNA. We believe that Owen Fiske will be a match.”

“Believe or hope, Mr. Salvesen?”

“More than hope. The police can’t be faulted for assuming that the family member who matched the DNA was Wayne Fiske, not his teenage son.”

“Tell that to Mr. Fiske, who has been in prison while all this was sorted out. On that point, why haven’t the charges against Mr. Fiske been dismissed?”

“We’re not yet prepared to do that,” Salvesen said. “His fingerprints at the scene suggest that he might have acted in concert with his son in this crime.”

Miller came to his feet. “I request that the court dismiss the indictment against Wayne Fiske. There simply is not enough evidence to satisfy probable cause for the arrest. In fact, all they have is that the man’s fingerprints were found at the crime scene, but that is easily explained by the fact that Mr. Fiske often met his son at Mr. Sommers’s office. There is absolutely no other evidence linking him to the crime. None.”

“That’s not true,” Salvesen said, now also standing. “He has a strong motive and no alibi.”

Miller was right on cue. “The police don’t know where I was at the time of the murder either. Is there probable cause to arrest me if I had once been in Mr. Sommers’s studio? Because it’s pretty much the same case they have against Mr. Fiske.”

“Careful what you wish for, Mr. Miller,” Judge Martin said with a grin, “but I get your point.”

Wayne could barely breathe. Alex had told him that he thought the judge would likely dismiss the charges, but he cautioned it was a close call.

“Mr. Salvesen, let me ask you this: Is it now the People’s position that the blood at the crime scene was left by Owen Fiske, and not his father?”