custody trial. Mrs. Patterson's abilities as a mother are not the issue here. This is a kidnapping case, and I've yet to hear anyone so much as mention my client. In fact, these people don't even know him.” They barely even knew Marielle, but Palmer had wanted to be sure that Marielle was totally ruined before he moved on. He wanted her discredited without a single doubt, so that if she was called by the defense later on, she would be useless. Who would listen to a woman who had been in a mental institution for years and was not even considered a good mother by her own staff? Palmer had done his job to perfection. And that afternoon, he completed the picture.
Malcolm Patterson took the stand immediately after lunch, for the prosecution.
“Were you aware of your wife's history, Mr. Patterson?”
“No.” Malcolm's cold blue eyes looked straight ahead at William Palmer, and not for an instant did he allow Marielle into his field of vision.
“You had no idea that she had been in a mental hospital, is that correct?”
“Yes, it is, or I would never have married her.” Marielle knew now that it was a lie. The only thing she didn't know was why Malcolm would want to destroy her. She sat very straight and tall, looking at a spot above him, somewhere on the wall, and thinking of happier moments…with little Teddy. She felt totally helpless now to defend herself, or expose Malcolm's deceit. And that was his intention.
“Did you know she had been married to Charles Delauney?”
“No. I did not. She never told me. I knew there had been some brief youthful interlude. I'd heard that she had a romance in Paris as a girl, but nothing more than that. She concealed the marriage from me.” William Palmer nodded, sad for him that he had been so badly duped by this woman.
“Do you know anything about Mr. Delauney, sir?”
“Only his reputation. His father has kept him out of the country for many years.
“Objection!” Tom was on his feet again. “We would have to put Mr. Delauney Senior on the stand to tell us that, there is no evidence whatsoever that my client's family ever wanted him out of the country. In fact, quite the contrary. They wanted him to come home.”
“Sustained. Hearsay. You may continue, Mr. Palmer.”
“Have you ever seen Mr. Delauney?”
“Not until this trial.”
“Has he ever called you, threatened you, harassed you, or any member of your immediate family?”
“Objection!”
“Overruled!”
Malcolm went on. “He threatened my wife and son. He told her he would kidnap him if she didn't go back to him.'
“And when was that?”
Malcolm bowed his head for a moment before he answered and then he looked full into the courtroom. “The day before my son was taken.”
“Have you ever seen your son since that day?”
Malcolm shook his head, unable to speak.
“Would you speak up for the record, please, sir.” He spoke with all the gentleness he should have used on Marielle and hadn't.
“I'm sorry… no… I have not…”
“And how long ago was that?”
“Almost three months ago, to the day. My little boy was taken from us on December eleventh…shortly after his fourth birthday.”
“Have there been any calls, or requests for ransom?”
“Only one, and it was a prank. The money was never collected.” The implication was obvious. Delauney hadn't asked for ransom because what he wanted was revenge, and in any case, he certainly didn't need the money.
“Do you believe that your son is still alive?”
He shook his head again, but forced himself to speak this time. “No, I do not. I think if he were, he would have been returned to us by now. The FBI has searched for him across every state. If he were still alive, they would have found him.”
“Do you believe that Mr. Delauney is the kidnapper?”
“I believe he hired people to take him, and probably kill him.”
“What convinced you of that?”
“They found Teddy's…my boy's pajamas in his home…and a teddy bear the boy loved… he was wearing those same pajamas when he was taken.” In spite of himself, he began to cry, and you could feel all the sympathy in the courtroom rush to him. The prosecutor waited politely while he regained his composure. And in her seat, Brigitte dabbed at her eyes with a lace hankie.
“Do you believe that your wife is still in love with Charles Delauney?” He had wanted to say “involved,” but his investigators had been able to turn up absolutely nothing to support the fact that she was sleeping with him, and he decided to play it safe and not use anything that could be disproven.
“Yes, I do. I understand from my driver that two days before the kidnapping, they met in a church and she kissed him repeatedly. I suppose she's always been in love with him, during the entire time she was married to me. Perhaps that's why she's been so ill.” They made her sound like an invalid, instead of a young woman with a troubled life, who suffered from headaches, a woman who had suffered tragedy and still managed to survive it.
“Do you think it's your wife's fault that your son was kidnapped?” He asked the question as though he expected a verdict, and Malcolm waited just long enough to answer so that everyone thought he was giving one.
“I think it is her fault that Charles Delauney kidnapped him. It is her fault that he holds her responsible for his own son's death, and wanted revenge with mine. It is her fault for bringing him into our lives.” He looked woefully into the courtroom, and at her, but she did not look at him.
“Mr. Patterson, although you feel that to some degree Mrs. Patterson is responsible for…this tragedy, could you ever imagine yourself taking revenge on her in any way? Punishing her, or hurting someone she loved? Hurting her?” He already had, Marielle knew too well. With everything he had done in the past few days, and the way he'd behaved since Teddy was taken, and what he had just said on the stand. It was bad enough to lose her child, but then to be attacked by her husband could have destroyed her as well, but for the moment she was still struggling not to let it. “Could you ever see yourself taking revenge on her, or anyone?” William Palmer repeated, and Malcolm said a single word, as he sat there sounding like God, as his voice rang out in the courtroom.
“Never.”
“Thank you, Mr. Patterson.” He turned to Tom. “Mr. Armour, your witness.”
Tom stood up and said not a word for an interminable moment, and then slowly he began to walk around the courtroom. He walked in front of the jury, and smiled at some of them, almost as though to relax them. And then, finally, he went to stand in front of Malcolm, but he was no longer smiling.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Patterson.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Armour.” Malcolm looked unusually solemn, but Tom Armour seemed extremely relaxed, as the world watched him. It was an intriguing tactic.
“Would you say…” He seemed to draw the words out. “That your marriage to Mrs. Patterson has been a happy one?”
“I'd say so, yes.”
“In spite of her illness…her unreliability…her headaches?”
For a moment, Malcolm wasn't quite sure what to say, but he regained his energy quickly. “They certainly didn't make it easy, but I think I've been happy.”
“Very happy?”
“Very happy.” Malcolm looked annoyed, he couldn't see where the defense
