A Blood Thing Page 9

  Tyler had been nodding through all of that. “I do. I mean, I can.”

  “Mr. Kane, I need to believe that you really understand what’s going on here. This is very important. Take your time and really think about it, please.”

  “Okay.”

  Tyler lowered his head. And kept it lowered. After nearly a full minute, the whispers began.

  Finally, Judge Finely said, “Son?”

  Tyler looked up and said, “I’m still thinking.” After a nudge from Addison, he added, “Your Honor.”

  It looked to Molly as though Finley almost smiled. “I appreciate that, Mr. Kane. And now that you’ve had some time to consider, what do you think? Do you fully understand what’s happening here?”

  Tyler nodded. “I do. I really do. I know I’m not smart, Your Honor. Everybody else is way smarter than me. But I understand what you guys think I did. You think I killed a lady. I didn’t, but you guys think I did.”

  Finley listened.

  Tyler continued. “And I know why we’re here today. So you can tell me what you think I did, and I can tell you I’m not guilty. I already said that, and I’ll say it again. I’m not guilty. And trial? I understand that, too. That’s where we make you guys see that I didn’t do it. If we win, I can go home. If not, I’ll go to prison for a long time.”

  Finley nodded. “Go on, Mr. Kane.”

  “What was the third thing?”

  “Whether you can talk with your lawyer and help her defend you.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, I’ve talked to her a couple of times already, and we get along great. She’s nice, and she’s really smart. She asks questions, and I answer them. She says I’m being helpful, so there’s your answer right there, Your Honor.”

  Finley thought a moment, then said, “You can have a seat now, son.” Tyler sat as the judge directed his gaze toward the prosecution’s table. “Mr. Phillips?”

  Assistant State Attorney Reed Phillips rose to his feet in his precisely tailored suit. “Your Honor, if the defense isn’t claiming a competency issue, the state has no problem with that. But we wouldn’t want the claim to be raised later.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t, Counselor. But you’re aware, of course, that the issue of competency can be raised at any time. In fact, if the defendant somehow becomes incompetent to stand trial at any time, Ms. Addison would be ethically bound to raise the issue with the court.”

  “Of course, Your Honor.” Even from twenty feet away, Molly imagined she could hear Phillips swallowing uncomfortably.

  Addison, still standing, said, “We’ll stipulate to my client’s current competency to stand trial, Your Honor, if the court agrees with our assessment on this issue. Capacity to commit the offense, of course, is another matter, and the defense reserves the right—”

  “We’re not talking capacity here, Ms. Addison,” Finley said, “just competency.”

  Addison nodded and fell silent. Phillips was still standing, mostly, it looked to Molly, because he wasn’t sure whether he should sit.

  Finley rubbed his chin and regarded Tyler. Finally, he said, “The defendant has convinced me of his competency to stand trial.” More murmuring in the courtroom. “Now, what are we thinking about bail?”

  In the gallery, Molly sat forward.

  “Your Honor,” Phillips began, “the charges against the defendant couldn’t be more serious. The heinousness of the crime is evident. The facts of the crime indicate that it was preplanned, premeditated. Everything about it suggests that the defendant presents a very real threat to everyone around him. The state asks in the strongest terms that bail be denied. Thank you.”

  The man and his expensive suit folded neatly back into his chair at the prosecution table.

  “Your Honor,” Addison said, “for a variety of reasons, most of which are no secret to the court, my client is not your run-of-the-mill defendant. He—”

  Judge Finley interrupted. “Should he therefore be given special treatment, Counselor?”

  “Of course not, Your Honor. What I’m saying is that there are special circumstances here that mitigate in favor of granting bail.”

  “I’m listening,” the judge said, though from Molly’s view in the gallery, that looked far from certain.

  “To begin, he’s the brother of the sitting governor, as you know. And no, he deserves no special treatment for that reason, but I think he does merit special consideration.”

  Finley said, “Are you requesting that he be sequestered in jail for his protection until trial? That seems reasonable under the circumstances.”

  “Not exactly, Your Honor. I’m saying that his familial relationship with the governor makes him unusually recognizable, especially after all of the media coverage of his arrest. Someone as well known as he is would have a very difficult time getting far without being recognized, were that person to jump bail . . . which Mr. Kane would never do, of course.”

  The judge nodded, almost imperceptibly, and Molly decided that he might have been listening after all.

  “My client also has certain . . . limitations, which we have already discussed here, that would make it hard for him to function for long on his own, were he inclined to try such a thing. He’s never been outside of Vermont other than in the company of his family. He lives with his sister, and they allow a graduate student to live in their house in exchange for her assistance in helping Tyler when he needs it. And according to his family, though he is fairly comfortable getting around locally on his own, until he was arrested three nights ago, he had never spent a single night away from home—again, without being in the company of his family.”

  Addison paused, and Phillips seemed on the verge of interjecting but apparently thought better of it.

  “The charges against my client are of the most serious nature, to be sure, but he has not been proven guilty of them, and he has, in fact, pled his innocence. More than once today, in fact.” A few more titters, which Finley ignored again. “He has no history of violence. He doesn’t have the skills to survive on his own, ensuring his adherence to conditions of bail should Your Honor see fit to grant it. And, quite frankly, he would suffer in jail.” A murmur rose this time, tinged with annoyance, and Addison quickly added, “We are mindful, of course, of the suffering of others right now. The victim’s loved ones in particular. But a man is innocent until proven guilty in this country, and putting Tyler Kane in jail until trial would do him irreparable harm. And if the court needs expert opinion on that, the defense would be happy to provide it.”

  “Do you have expert opinion to that effect at this moment?”

  “No, Your Honor, we haven’t had the time, but I can say with confidence that it would be easy to obtain. We’re hoping that won’t be necessary, though. The defendant’s . . . condition is relatively well known, as Your Honor has noted. As the governor’s brother, it has been mentioned a number of times in the news. And I daresay the court can see it with its own eyes.”

  Molly looked at her brother. His head was down. It looked as though he might have been picking at his thumbnail, one of the only activities in which he could engage with his hands secured to the chain around his waist. When he was younger, after the accident, he used to do that when he was in an unfamiliar place or an uncomfortable situation. Sometimes he did it until every one of his fingers bled. She wanted to tell him to stop. She wanted to tell him not to be scared, even though she herself was more scared than she’d ever been, even more than in Afghanistan.

  Judge Finley took a deep breath. He scratched absently at a spot on his jawline. “What are you suggesting, Counselor?”

  “House arrest. An ankle monitor.”

  Phillips sprang to his feet like a designer-clad jack-in-the-box. “Your Honor, if I may?”

  The judge looked at him. “Are you going to add anything new, Mr. Phillips, or simply repeat what you said earlier?”

  “Your Honor?”

  “If you’re just going to say again that the charges against the defendant are s
erious and the state believes him to be a danger,” Finley said, “I can assure you that you needn’t repeat yourself. I was paying attention. I promise.”

  Phillips hesitated, then said, “Thank you, Your Honor,” and slid back into his seat.

  “Son?” the judge said, not unkindly.

  Addison nudged Tyler, who looked up. “Yeah?” Addison leaned down and whispered to him, and he stood. “Yes, Your Honor,” he said.

  “You’ve convinced me that you understand how serious this all is.”

  “I do, Your Honor. I definitely do.”

  “Mr. Kane, if I were to let you go home to wait there for trial, which might not be for months, would you be able to stay inside your house, if I ordered that? Stay inside and not leave for any reason at all?”

  “What if there’s a fire?”

  There were a few snickers in the courtroom, but a stern look from the judge silenced them.

  “Well, let’s say you weren’t allowed to leave your property . . . your house and your yard. That way, if there was a fire, you could go outside where it’s safe. Could you stay in your house and your yard every day and not leave even once, not one single time, until you have to come back to court? If that’s what I ordered, could you do that? I want you to really think about that for a moment.” He quickly added, “But just a brief moment, okay?”

  There were a few chuckles, and perhaps because they were in response to something of a joke by him, the judge allowed them.

  Tyler dropped his head again for a few seconds, then looked up. “I could do that.”

  Molly saw Reed Phillips begin to rise but apparently think better of it.

  “Mr. Kane,” Finley said, “if I were to allow you to go home, you would have a device attached to your ankle, and you wouldn’t be able to take it off, not even to bathe. It would tell us where you are at all times. It would tell us if you try to break your promise and leave your home. And if you did that, you would be in very big trouble.”

  “I think I’m already in big trouble.”

  More snickering, another glare from the judge.

  “I’m glad you appreciate that fact, son, but I need you to understand this. If you tried to leave your property, or if you tried to take off the ankle monitor, you would be in even bigger trouble. You would go back to jail immediately, and you would have to spend the rest of your time there until trial. You understand that, don’t you?”

  Tyler nodded emphatically. “I understand that, sir, and I don’t want that. I’d rather be home with my sister, Molly. And my friend Julie. She lives with us and helps me sometimes when Molly isn’t around. She makes unbelievable sandwiches.”

  “They sound delicious. But here’s the important part, Mr. Kane . . . you have to come back and stand trial. If you were to run away to avoid trial—”

  “I wouldn’t run away,” Tyler said quickly. “If I ran away, I wouldn’t get a trial. And I need a trial because that’s where Rachel will prove to everybody that I didn’t do the things that you and that guy over there said I did.” He pointed at Reed Phillips.

  “I didn’t say you . . .” Finley trailed off and studied Tyler for several seconds. After a while, Molly finally had to let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The longer the judge seemed to be deliberating, the more Molly began to feel hopeful. Phillips must have sensed things tipping the way of the defense, because he again looked as though he might pop up to his feet, but before he could, Finley cleared his throat.

  “Given all of the circumstances, I don’t believe the defendant to be a significant flight risk. Bail is set at ten million dollars. The defendant will be fitted with an ankle monitor and restricted to his house and its grounds. I believe the Kane property is fenced. He may not step beyond its confines.”

  Phillips was a blur springing to his feet. “Your Honor—”

  “Objection noted, Mr. Phillips.”

  Addison probably would have sprung to her feet, too, if she hadn’t already been standing. “Your Honor, ten million dollars—”

  “Is certainly within the means of your client’s family. It’s no secret they’re rich and have been for generations, Counselor. They can afford it. A lower amount wouldn’t sufficiently ensure the defendant’s appearance at trial.”

  “Ten million dollars is an awful lot of money for anyone, Your Honor. Even the Kanes.”

  “The court will accept a ten percent cash bond deposited with the clerk, along with proper guarantees for the balance. I’m hopeful Mr. Kane’s family will be able to impress upon him how much they stand to lose from a monetary standpoint should he fail to appear. It’s true that I don’t consider him a serious flight risk, but a little insurance never hurt.”

  “Your Honor—”

  “Objection noted, Ms. Addison.”

  After a moment, Addison said, “Thank you, Your Honor,” and sat down. Tyler, still standing, looked down at his attorney, then up at the judge behind the bench, then back at Addison. She gently tugged his sleeve, and he sat beside her.

  Ten million dollars was indeed a lot of money. Most defendants wouldn’t be able to pay it. But the judge was right: the Kanes could afford it, which was precisely why he set the amount so high. As Addison had explained to Molly at coffee on Saturday, though, the family wouldn’t necessarily have to pay the entire bail amount set by the judge. In this case, Judge Finley was requiring them to pay only 10 percent—$1 million—provided they could demonstrate that they possessed the assets to cover the remaining $9 million if Tyler failed to appear for trial and would sign paperwork obligating them to do so. When Tyler later showed up in court as ordered, they would get the $1 million back. Molly wasn’t concerned about tying up that money until the case was resolved; they could afford it. Nor was she worried about the possibility of losing a total of $10 million, because there was no way Tyler wouldn’t appear for his trial. The important thing was that he would be coming home.

  The judge and the lawyers covered a few more things, including the scheduling of a preliminary hearing date; then Molly watched her brother stand and allow himself to be led by the deputy toward the door through which they had entered the courtroom earlier. As he walked, Molly willed him to look up, to find her in the gallery, to see that he wasn’t alone. Just before he disappeared through the door, their eyes met, and his lit up like flares. She smiled at him and hoped he couldn’t see her tears from across the room.

  Then he was gone, and Molly was alone in the crowded courtroom.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  From his prosecuting days, Andrew was more than familiar with the way bail worked. As soon as Molly called him after the arraignment, he got the firm that handled the family’s finances on the phone and set into motion everything necessary to deposit the cash bond with the court and guarantee payment for the balance of the bail amount. Just as he wasn’t the kind of man to use his position to apply improper pressure on others to achieve his goals, neither was he inclined to use his family’s wealth or name to obtain special treatment. But this was Tyler, for God’s sake, so he made it clear that this matter needed to be the finance firm’s top priority, and he was assured that it would be. He texted Molly back to tell her that Tyler would be home soon, though it probably would be tomorrow at the earliest. It wasn’t as soon as he would have liked, but at least Tyler would be out of jail before long.

  He put his cell phone on his desk and turned to Henry, who was sitting in one of the chairs in front of Andrew’s utilitarian desk. Papers and file folders sat on the desk in front of him. “A million dollars to get him out,” Henry said. “Could have been worse, I guess.”

  “Could have been a lot worse. Finley could have denied bail.” They pondered that for a moment, then Andrew said, “You were about to tell me what they found at the house.”

  The search warrant return inventory, which detailed what was seized pursuant to a search warrant, was public information and could be found in the court clerk’s case file. Because the warrant had been executed l
ate Friday night, the state hadn’t filed the inventory with the court until today. Henry had gone to the clerk’s office at 9:00 a.m., but it hadn’t been there yet. When he returned at 11:00 a.m., though, he was able to obtain a copy.

  “Looks like they found blood on Tyler’s electric bike,” Henry said. Andrew knew that the inventory would actually have noted a “bloodlike substance,” because tests wouldn’t have been conducted on it yet. But cops knew what blood looked like. Which meant it was almost certainly blood. “They also found a pair of bloody sneakers in the garage behind some garden tools. Men’s size ten, the same size as all the other shoes in Tyler’s closet.”

  “Damn.”

  “The affidavit supporting the search warrant said that one of Tyler’s coworkers at the shelter said she saw him get into the victim’s car hours before she was killed, which Ramsey told me the other night. And apparently, Tyler admitted that to them. Also, an anonymous caller claimed to have seen a guy who looked a lot like Tyler leaving the victim’s house around the time of the murder, which Ramsey also told me. Along with blood on the bike and the bloody sneakers, that was enough to get an arrest warrant.”

  “The guy who framed him is obviously the anonymous neighbor,” Andrew said.

  “Obviously. And he planted the blood on the bike. And somehow got hold of a pair of Tyler’s sneakers, bloodied them up, and hid them for searchers to find.”

  “He’s good.”

  “Let’s hope Rachel Addison is good, too. We need her to be.”

  “Not if we catch this guy. We don’t have anything on him yet, but he must have some connection to Gabriel Torrance. So who is Torrance? What’s his deal?”

  Henry pushed aside a copy of the search warrant inventory and opened a manila file folder.

  “He’s nobody,” Henry said, referring to the contents of the file. “Gabriel Torrance, thirty-eight, has been a guest at the lovely Southern State Correctional Facility for the past four years and five months, serving a fifty-eight-month sentence for leaving the scene of an accident resulting in serious injury. The other driver broke both his legs.”