“Couldn’t your father’s possession of these records have had an innocent explanation that had nothing to do with a super-secret team of assassins?”
Vanessa shook her head from side to side. She was growing very agitated.
“My father is a killer. He ordered Carl to kill Eric Glass for those records.”
“You cannot produce these records for the court, can you?”
“My father has them, if he hasn’t destroyed them.”
Brendan looked at the judge. “Would you please instruct Miss Kohler to answer my question?”
“Yes, Miss Kohler. You’re not allowed to argue with counsel. If there is a point you wish to make, your attorney can ask you about it during redirect. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Vanessa answered grudgingly.
“Do you want the court reporter to read back the question?”
“That’s not necessary.” Vanessa turned to the prosecutor. “No, Mr. Kirkpatrick, I can’t produce the records.”
“Miss Kohler, did it ever occur to you that Mr. Rice may have murdered the congressman out of jealousy because he thought that Eric Glass was your lover?”
“I don’t believe that. You don’t know my father. You have no idea what he’s capable of doing.”
“Have you ever seen your father kill someone?” Kirkpatrick asked.
Vanessa hesitated.
“Have you?”
“No.”
“Have you ever seen him order someone to commit a crime?”
“No,” Vanessa answered softly.
“Has your father ever hurt you?”
“He had me kidnapped.”
“Or did he rescue you from a man who is a confessed mass murderer?”
Vanessa glared at the prosecutor. “My father had me locked away in a mental hospital.” Her eyes blazed with hate and her body was rigid. “He kept me in a drugged stupor for a year just to shut me up.”
“Or to help you. Didn’t the doctors at the hospital make the diagnosis that kept you there?”
“They did what he ordered them to do.”
“Did the doctors tell you that?”
“No.”
“Did you ever hear your father give such an order?”
“He’s too smart for that. He was always telling me how much he loved me and how it hurt him to have to hospitalize me. He made certain that there were witnesses. He may be evil but he’s also very clever.”
“Or very caring, Miss Kohler, or very caring. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”
“He made me look like a fool,” Vanessa told Ami, who was seated across the table from her in the jury room following the noon recess.
“Brendan is an excellent attorney. He knows that you have only Carl’s word that the Unit exists.”
“What about the murder of Dr. French and his wife?”
“Brendan doesn’t believe you or Carl. He thinks that Carl killed the Frenches and that you’re covering for Carl.”
“Carl saved your life. What does he think about that?”
“He thinks that your father’s security people came to my house looking for you and Carl killed them and my police guards. That explanation fits Brendan’s theory of the case.”
Vanessa shook her head. “We don’t have a chance, do we?”
“I’m sorry, but I told you that this would happen. You’ve been in a mental hospital and your father is a national hero. You’re very open about your hatred for him. That gives you a strong motive to lie or distort the truth.”
“Still no word from Hobson?” Vanessa asked.
“No.”
“I knew I’d never beat him. He always wins.”
Vanessa closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Her pain was so visible that it hurt Ami, but Ami knew of no way to stop the pain. They had lost, and Vanessa and Carl Rice were going to go to prison for a long time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
After Ami Vergano rested her case, Brendan Kirkpatrick began the prosecution’s case by questioning Dr. Ganett and the other men who’d been taken prisoner at the hospital. Shortly before noon, Judge Velasco recessed court until two.
The prosecutor was feeling a little down when he walked into the Multnomah County district attorney’s office on the sixth floor of the courthouse. He usually felt elated after a great cross-examination, but his demolition of Vanessa Kohler had been too easy. Her irrational belief in General Wingate’s mythical secret army was a product of hate and a deep-seated mental illness. Beating up on someone who was irrational and sick was not something he relished.
“Mr. Kirkpatrick,” the receptionist called out. “I have an important message from Mr. Stamm about your bail hearing. He wanted me to make sure you got it as soon as you came back from court.”
Jack Stamm, the Multnomah County district attorney, was Kirkpatrick’s boss. Brendan took Stamm’s note from the receptionist. His brow furrowed with confusion as he read it. He was tempted to go to Stamm’s office and ask for an explanation of the instructions, but the note was very clear. It ordered him to do as he was told without question.
Brendan walked down a narrow hallway that began at the reception desk and ended in a large open area that housed the workspaces of the deputy district attorneys and their staff. General Wingate was waiting in the conference room. Two Secret Service men were guarding the door. They searched Brendan and his briefcase before letting him in.
General Wingate’s pale blue eyes fixed on the prosecutor the moment the door opened. Seated beside him was Bryce McDermott, the General’s political adviser. Mr. McDermott had returned to the conference room as soon as Vanessa was through testifying, to brief the General on what Carl Rice and his daughter had said. At the end of the table was a compact, muscular man wearing a leather jacket that was open enough to give the deputy DA a clear view of a large handgun. The man’s eyes were on Kirkpatrick as soon as he entered the room.
The General still wore his gray-streaked hair in a military cut. He had on a white silk shirt, a solid maroon tie, and the slacks from a charcoal-gray suit. The suit jacket was folded neatly over the back of a chair.
Wingate looked upset. “Bryce tells me you were pretty rough on Vanessa.”
“It’s my job to win this bail hearing, but I can assure you that I didn’t enjoy myself.”
The General sighed. “I know you’re just doing your job, but I hurt whenever Vanessa hurts. Do you have children, Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
“No,” Brendan answered. His expression didn’t change but he felt an ache in his heart. He and his wife had started talking about a family shortly before she died.
“They’re amazing, but they play havoc with your emotions. Every little thing they do brings you either ecstasy or pain. Sadly for me, Vanessa’s actions over the years have brought me little pleasure. Still, I can’t stand to see her suffer.”
“Then I’m sorry to tell you that I need you to testify.”
“Surely that’s not necessary after the job you did examining Carl and Vanessa. What possible questions could the judge have about their sanity? He’s got to realize that Vanessa is too irrational to release on bail.”
“General Wingate, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years in practice it’s that you never assume a judge or jury is going to act in any particular way. I’ve seen the most bizarre decisions made in this courthouse, and the only thing I know for sure is that you always cover you ass.
“Besides, I need you to tell the judge why you had your daughter brought to your home and what happened
