The Night Swim(77)

In his only statements to the media, when Scott Blair was first charged, Mitch Alkins said this case was an important step toward showing women that their right to say no is inviolable.

What message will it send if Scott Blair is acquitted? I tried to ask Mitch Alkins that question in the hall outside the courtroom after today’s session. I didn’t get an answer. He pushed past me and headed to his office, where I hear his team is in crisis mode. The case seems to be slipping away from him.

I drove past K’s house today. The blinds were down. There was a big sign on the lawn telling people it was private property and asking them to stay away. It is heartbreaking to think about what K and her family are going through as she decides whether she has the strength to endure a grueling cross-examination by Dale Quinn. Her parents would be well aware of the terrible implications of her decision. Put simply, if K doesn’t take the stand, then the trial is over and Scott Blair wins.

This is Rachel Krall for Guilty or Not Guilty, the podcast that puts you in the jury box.





45



Rachel


Rachel gave her breakfast order to the waitress without looking at the menu. She’d been staying at the hotel long enough to know the options by heart. She drank a mug of coffee while reading the Saturday edition of the Neapolis Gazette, which she’d taken from a newspaper rack in the lobby.

The front page featured an enormous photograph of Scott Blair being hauled out of the Olympic-sized swimming pool on the day that he was arrested. His muscular arms were cuffed behind his back. He wore his stars-and-stripes Speedo and a matching swimming cap. Drops of water ran down his skin.

The headline said: “Blair Trial May End on Monday.” Rachel didn’t have to read the article to know its point. Without Kelly’s testimony, Scott would be free.

“Good morning, Rachel.”

Detective Cooper’s blond stubble looked darker in the atmospheric lighting of the hotel cafe. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a sports jacket zipped over it. He sat opposite Rachel without asking, just as the waitress arrived with her glass of orange juice and acai bowl.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” said Rachel. “Scott Blair is about to get off. Surely, the entire police department is out looking for evidence to save the day.”

“It only works that way on television. The sex-crimes unit investigated this case for months and they already handed over whatever evidence they could find. The case rests on Kelly Moore.”

“It shouldn’t have to rest on whether a teenage girl will allow herself to be traumatized and humiliated again on the stand,” Rachel argued.

“Unfortunately,” said Detective Cooper softly, “that’s how the system works.” He called over a waitress and gave his order of eggs, over easy, on whole-wheat toast with a coffee.

“Mitch Alkins would like to meet you,” he said when the waitress had gone.

“So he sent you to bring me to him?”

“He knows that on Saturday mornings I’m out early checking my boat, which is docked in the marina right across the road from your hotel. He asked me last night if I’d stop by and see if you’re still interested in talking to him.”

“How does Mitch Alkins know so much about your weekend sailing routine?” Rachel asked, her eyes focused on his as she took another sip of coffee.

“Before this town became a glorified retirement village, it was small enough that just about everyone knew everyone. As it happens, Mitch is also my cousin,” he said. “And he’s a late riser. I’ll check if he’s ready to see you. That is, if you’re okay to meet him?”

Rachel nodded. She’d been wanting to talk to Mitch Alkins for days. She was hardly going to pass up the opportunity.

While Detective Cooper ate his breakfast, Rachel checked her phone for messages from Pete. He texted her to say there were over eight hundred emails in the podcast inbox following the latest episode. If there was any message from Hannah, he’d let her know straightaway, but he warned that it would take time for him to trawl through them all.

Cooper’s phone beeped as the waitress cleared away the dishes. He read the text, looking up at Rachel cryptically.

“Mitch is up early after all,” he said. “He says we should come now. My car is parked across the road at the marina. I’ll drive you there.”

They drove through the light Saturday morning traffic. Detective Cooper’s left elbow rested casually on his open window. His golden hair was tousled by the wind. Rachel could see the shadow of a gun in a shoulder holster inside his gaping jacket.

“I thought Alkins would be at his office,” said Rachel in surprise when she noticed they were driving out of the city limits and into a rural area to the north of Neapolis.

“Didn’t I mention that he’s working from his home?” said Detective Cooper. His voice was strangely contemplative. “It’s not much further.”

They drove past a strip of luxury homes on the gated estate where the Blair family home was located in its own compound. There was extra security detail at the entrance. Rachel presumed it was to keep away the protesters who jeered at Scott Blair every day when he came into court.

Detective Cooper veered off the main road five miles later. He turned down a narrow road filled with potholes that ran inland around a peninsula. At one point, the road came close enough to the cliff that Rachel could see waves crashing against boulders in the ocean as they drove by. The area was wild and uninhabited. It was hard to imagine anyone living there—let alone Mitch Alkins. Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She eyed her door. It was locked. The window was shut, too. It was all operated by the central locking system on the driver’s control panel.