“They were married three weeks, Your Honor.” Drew sucked in a breath, obviously working hard to get his voice under control. It worked, somewhat. “Three weeks, and a perfectly healthy young mother ends up dead?”
“-a felony charge of slander and harassment-”
The judge appeared thoughtful, or at least curious. “How did she die?”
“Ask her.” Drew pointed at Theresa, in the second-to-last row of seats. “She knows.”
All four men in the room, plus the bailiff and court reporter, stopped and stared at her.
“And who is she?” the judge asked.
She could only hope that Drew would not introduce her as Wonder Woman.
The walk to the witness stand took forever. She passed Drew on his way back to his seat, and successfully resisted the urge to slap him on the back of the head. She had no idea what to say, and wished for Don, or at least Leo, and thought what a funny story this would make to tell Paul over dinner, if, of course, Paul were still alive to hear it.
The bailiff swore her in. She took her seat.
“Yes, Your Honor?” she replied when he said her name.
“Has Mr. Kovacic been charged with the murder of his wife?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Is he a suspect in her death?”
How to answer that? “He is to me” didn’t seem reasonable…though she was a death investigator and she
The judge didn’t care about her strategy. “So is he a suspect?”
“I couldn’t say, sir. It’s not my investigation.” Was she throwing Frank under the bus? Would he kill her if she did?
“Then why are you here?”
Good question, she narrowly avoided answering. Then she made the mistake of looking at Drew. Skinny, runny-nosed, devastated Drew, who focused on her as if he had terminal cancer and she stood with the last vial of a known cure. Drew remained a problematic human being, but maybe the only one left on the planet with Cara’s best interests in mind.
She turned to the judge. “There are many unexplained factors in Mrs. Kovacic’s death.” She listed the location of the body, Jillian’s state of apparent contentment, and the absence of any obvious cause of death.
“So you don’t know why this woman died? What does it say on the death certificate?”
“The death certificate isn’t complete yet.” Drew should have called Christine, Theresa thought. She’d have impressed the judge and made mincemeat of that lawyer. Christine made mincemeat of most people.
“Is there any reason to suspect foul play?”
“It’s unusual for a perfectly healthy young woman to drop dead, Your Honor.”
“Absence of proof is not proof of absence.” The judge repeated what Frank had said, so primly that Theresa had to look down to keep from glaring at him. The worst part, of course, was that he was right.
“Mrs. Kovacic committed suicide, Your Honor.” Evan’s attorney molded his features into a properly empathetic mask to accompany the statement. “She walked out into the woods and let herself freeze to death. Postnatal depression could have played a part.”
“To do so she’d have to walk three miles in subfreezing temperatures without frostbite,” Theresa put in. “Which is highly unlikely.”
“No one dragged her to that forest. No one tied her to that tree or made her stay there,” the attorney persisted.
“How would you know that?” Theresa demanded.
“Why else would a perfectly healthy woman sit down in the freezing outdoors unless she intended to die? You said yourself there were no signs of foul play.”
“I-she-”
The judge said her name, waited for her full attention. “Do you believe this woman was murdered?”
Her mouth became too dry to form words. But the judge had not asked what she could prove or what Leo would think was prudent to state. He had asked her opinion after placing her under oath.
“Yes, Your Honor. I do.”
Evan leaped to his feet. “That’s a lie! This woman’s working with Fleming-”
“Your Honor! This is a clear violation of my client’s-”
The judge spoke over both of the men. “Do you have any proof?”
She tried. “Only my training and my experience in over ten years of working with both homicides and natural deaths-”
“Any other proof? Any physical evidence that implicates Mr. Kovacic in the death of his wife?”
She thought of something. Probably nuts, but worth a try. “It would help me to complete my investigation if Mr. Kovacic would give me his consent to search Jillian’s living areas.”
Evan had sat, but now jumped up again. “Your Honor! I asked the police to step in when Jillian disappeared. Mrs. MacLean searched my house then! What the hell is she looking for, and why didn’t she find it before?”
Theresa protested, “At that time I was investigating a disappearance with no signs of foul play, not a murder. Had I known Jillian’s body would show an…unclear cause of death or signs of transport, I would have conducted the search differently.”
This excuse brought her no comfort, nor did it impress the judge, who said, “Search warrants and the like are not my bailiwick. If this man needs to be investigated for murder, tell the police.”
Theresa worked hard to keep an even tone of voice. “I understand perfectly, Your Honor. Everyone in this room is here because they care about little Cara’s well-being. If I could complete my investigation, it would put everyone’s mind at ease, and surely Mr. Kovacic’s most of all. He must want to know what happened to his wife.”
She thought it sounded good. Then she glanced at Evan. Then his attorney, and then the judge. Not one was buying it.
“I don’t want this woman anywhere near me or my home, Your Honor,” Evan said.
“Despite the neat bit of extortion on Mrs. MacLean’s part-” began his attorney.
“Once more,” said the judge, who had probably spent his days in family court listening to participants hurl the wildest accusations ever concocted on the face of the earth, “I don’t issue search warrants and I don’t allow my courtroom to be used to persuade reluctant witnesses to cooperate in same. Do you, or do you not, have any evidence in hand that implicates Mr. Kovacic as having caused the death of his wife?”
Drew watched her, his gaze so intense it sucked the air from the room into its path.
“No, Your Honor.”
Evan sat back down.
Drew wilted before her, his hands gripping the antique wooden railing, his forehead sinking to his fingers.
“Then I have no choice but to grant the custody of Cara Perry to her mother’s legal spouse, Evan Kovacic. This decision is permanent and binding. Next case.”
CHAPTER 22
Theresa didn’t know what else to do except go back to work. She could do nothing more for Jillian Perry. She had examined every fiber, tested every hair, wrung as much information as she could out of her own coworkers. She had reached a dead end, and now Evan had custody of Cara. Game over.
Several reporters had gotten wind of her testimony-no doubt through Evan’s lawyer, who wanted to portray her as irrationally biased-and called to ask about it. They were, as always, referred to the M.E.’s office. None called to ask any more about serial killers, since the semen in Sarah Taylor had come back to an East Cleveland man with a history of sexual assault. If he didn’t come up with an ironclad alibi or at least some good answers to questions the
