She waited until near the end of her cross-exam to go after Shafer where he might be most vulnerable.
'That was very nice, Mr. Shafer. Now as you sit before this jury you claim that your relationship with Dr. Cassady was strictly professional, that you did not have a sexual relationship with her? Remember you are under oath.'
'Yes, absolutely. She was, and hopefully will continue to be, my therapist.'
'Notwithstanding the fact that she admits to having a sexual relationship with you?'
Shafer held his hand toward Jules Halpern, signaling for him not to object. 'I believe that the court record will show that she did not admit to such.'
Fitzgibbon frowned. 'I don't follow? Why do you think she didn't answer counsel?'
Shafer shot back. 'That's obvious. Because she didn't care to dignify such a question.'
'And when she hung her head, sir, and looked down at her lap? She was nodding assent?'
Shafer now looked at the jury, and shook his head in amazement. 'You misread her completely. You missed the point again, Counselor. Allow me to illustrate, if I may. As Charles the First said before being beheaded, “Give me my cloak lest they think I tremble from fear.” Dr. Elizabeth Cassady was deeply embarrassed by your associate's crude suggestion, so was my family, and so am I.'
Geoffrey Shafer looked at the prosecutor with steely eyes. He then acknowledged the jury again. 'And so am I.'
Alex Cross 5 - Pop Goes the Weasel
CHAPTER Ninety-Nine
The trial was almost over, and now came the really hard part: waiting for a verdict. That Tuesday, the jurors retired to the jury room to commence their deliberations in the murder trial of Geoffrey Shafer. For the first time, I allowed myself to actually think the unthinkable: that Shafer might be set free.
Sampson and I sat in the rear row of the courtroom and watched the twelve members depart: eight men and four women. John had come to court several times, calling it the 'best and sleaziest show this side of the Oval Office', but I knew he was there to give me support.
'The sonofabitch is guilty, he's mad as little Davey Berkowitz,' Sampson said as he watched Shafer. 'But he has a lot of good actors on his side: doting wife, doting mistress, well-paid lawyers, Silly Billy. He could get away with it.'
'It happens,' I agreed. 'Juries are hard to read. And getting harder.'
I watched as Shafer courteously shook hands with the members of his defense team. Both Jules and Jane Halpern had forced smiles on their faces. They knew, didn't they? Their client was the Weasel, a mass murderer.
'Geoffrey Shafer has the ability to make people believe in him when he needs to. He's the best actor I've seen.'
I said goodbye to John, then I snuck out the back way again. This time neither Shafer nor the press was lying in wait downstairs or in the rear parking lot.
In the lot, I heard a woman's voice and I stopped moving. I thought it was Christine. A dozen or so people were walking to their cars, seemingly unaware of me. I felt fevered and hot as I checked them all. None of them was her. Where had the voice come from?
I took a ride in the old Porsche and listened to George Benson on the CD player. I remembered the police report about Shafer's thrill-seeking ride ending near Dupont Circle. It seemed a strangely appealing prospect. I took my own advice not to try and guess how the jury would decide the case. It could go either way.
I finally let myself think about Christine, and I choked up. It was too much. Tears began to stream down my cheeks. I had to pull over.
I took a deep breath, then another. The pain in my chest was still as fresh as it had been the day she had disappeared in Bermuda. She had tried to stay away from me, but I wouldn't let her. I was responsible for what had happened to her.
I drove around Washington, riding in gently aimless circles. I finally reached home more than two and a half hours after I left the courthouse.
Nana came running out of the house. She must have seen me pull into the driveway. She'd obviously been waiting for me.
I leaned out of the driver's side window. The DJ was still talking congenially on Public Radio.
'What is it, old woman? What's the matter now?' I asked Nana.
'Ms. Fitzgibbon called you, Alex. The jury is coming back. They have a verdict.'
?CHAPTER One Hundred
I was apprehensive as I could be. But I was also curious beyond anything I could remember.
I backed out of the driveway and sped downtown. I got back to the courthouse in less than fifteen minutes, and the crowd on E Street was larger and more unruly than I had seen it at the height of the trial. At least a half-dozen Union Jacks waved in the wind; contrasting that were American flags, including some painted across bare chests and faces.
I had to push and literally inch my way through the crush of people up close to the courthouse steps. I ignored every question from the press. I tried to avoid anyone with a camera in hand, or the hungry look of a reporter.
