The Last Invitation (67)
“Why be limited to a set of possible punishments?” Retta shifted in her chair. The simple act served as a reminder that she wasn’t trapped in this conversation. She could move, even leave, if she wanted to. “Remember, this is a different justice system. A private one that benefits the victims and recognizes that many people when faced with confinement would say, or do, anything to avoid punishment. How would you prevent that sort of threat to justice?”
Jessa had no idea. Every answer struck her as wrong or illegal or not strong enough. “I . . . You could . . .”
Retta let out a little sigh. “Would you vote to make inculpatory but irrelevant evidence disappear?”
Jessa attached to the irrelevant part. “Yes.”
“Would you manufacture evidence?”
“What type?” The interrogation technique reminded Jessa of law school. She didn’t love being under fire, but she could handle questions. Those gave her a chance to see where Retta might want her to go. She could fake it . . . or redirect the questions to ones she could answer.
“Why does that matter?”
“Do I create the evidence? I don’t understand how this would even work.”
Retta stared at her, as if assessing how much information to provide. “We have members, in law enforcement and laboratories, with the power to impact the formal justice system. Scientists, forensic experts, and others who are sympathetic to our cause. Some judges who will make certain rulings or assist in jury selection in a nontraditional way.”
Jesus. That suggested large numbers of people who could be activated to serve the group’s will. A conspiracy that extended into different disciplines.
Jessa weighed the cons of taking a position. Answer wrong and . . . Hell, she didn’t want to think about the consequences. “If I knew someone was guilty, I wouldn’t, in this parallel system, let a technical violation of the law keep a person from being punished.”
Retta frowned. “Tepid.”
“I prefer to think of the strategy as careful.”
“In this case, the same thing.” Before Jessa could respond to that, Retta moved on. “Could you vote to pressure witnesses, pay them off, or even find witnesses you needed to prove your case?”
She knew the answer Retta wanted now and gave it to her. “Yes.”
“Could you, if you saw no other way, look at someone who had engaged in a series of horrible acts, and say that they had forfeited their right to freedom?”
Jessa thought about Darren and his threats. About some of those case files Retta provided, all filled with abusive men. Killers. Pedophiles. The facts made the answer very easy. “Yes.”
“Could you vote that they forfeited the right to continue their behavior?”
Such careful wording. All the blame fell to the person accused of acting in a certain way. No mitigating circumstances, no questions about fairness or evidence. That leap, huge . . . daunting, tested her resolve. “You mean kill someone? How is that possible?”
“Again, we have people who assist us. Others, for specific acts for which we don’t have a resource, are contacted through sources, are paid, and never know who handed down the sentence or why.”
Hired killers. Could she really mean that? This was more than evening the playing field and eliminating technicalities. This hubris allowed for death sentences. Sitting in judgment of other humans and deciding their fate based on information in a file.
Jessa needed to know more. “But if these other sources get caught—”
“They don’t.”
She thought about Gabby and that new article about the break-in at her house. “But if they, say, were in someone’s home and the owner came home, would they attack or even kill the person? Are you okay with that type of collateral damage?”
For a few seconds, Retta just sat there. She didn’t respond or take the question out of a hypothetical and into real life. Tension pounded on them when she finally spoke. “The most important rule—the number one rule—is to protect the group’s work. What we do is bigger than any nonmember or member, even me. That means recognizing the gravity of the work through confidentiality, secrecy, careful selection, studied decisions, and, if needed, personal sacrifice.”
The last sentence hung between them. They wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice her. She could be signing on as potential fodder for their vengeance machine. Their exit strategy.
Jessa asked the one question she had avoided. “Now that I know about the group, about the actions you take, am I a liability?”
Retta didn’t blink. “Nothing is permitted to threaten the group, and that includes you.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Gabby
Gabby stood at Baines’s front door, waiting for a police escort to arrive. She had a key and could walk right in again, but with all the scrutiny she decided to play by the rules. She regretted that decision when she saw Detective Schone get out of the car.
Any other police officer would be fine, but Gabby was not that lucky.
Gabby had come alone because she didn’t think she needed to hire yet another lawyer to handle yet another part of her life. She already had a divorce lawyer bill equivalent to Kennedy’s future college tuition that demanded attention. One was enough. But the idea of dealing with Melissa Schone one-on-one made Gabby rethink that choice.