Adverse Events, page 11
When she got back to her desk, she settled in for the mind-numbing process of reading through the council agenda. Thirty minutes later, her lunchtime caffeine infusion was the only thing keeping her awake. The bleating of her desk phone roused her from a near stupor. She shook her head to clear it as she lifted the receiver to her ear.
“Thanks for calling the Galveston Gazette. Kate Bennett speaking.”
“Miss Bennett, this is Bruce Castleman.” Her eyes snapped open in surprise. “I’m representing Dr. Aaron Newhouse.”
“I know who you are.” Her pulse sounded like a jackhammer in her ears. “What can I do for you, Mr. Castleman?”
“Dr. Newhouse would like to meet with you.”
Kate almost dropped the phone. She stood up to catch her breath. Suspicion pricked the back of her neck.
“Excuse me? Why would he want to do that?”
The lawyer paused, like he was trying to choose his words carefully.
“Dr. Newhouse would like to tell you his side of the story. He hopes he can convince you he’s innocent.”
Kate stood staring at nothing, her mouth hanging open. She knew she hadn’t misheard him. But his words seemed completely nonsensical.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” she finally asked.
Castleman sighed. It sounded like he had a hard time believing his words, too.
“Dr. Newhouse has a theory that he’d like to share with you, about what happened to Miss Gibson.”
Kate’s eyes narrowed.
“The DA’s pretty sure he knows what happened to her. Given the evidence, and Dr. Newhouse’s behavior, his case is pretty convincing.”
“That will be for a jury to decide.”
“You know, the last time I talked to Dr. Newhouse, it didn’t go so well for me.”
Castleman cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’m sorry about what happened between you and Dr. Newhouse. But that doesn’t make him a murderer. And, as you know, there are always two sides to every story.”
The thought of being in the same room with Newhouse again made Kate’s stomach twist. But curiosity won the brief tussle with her fear. How could she resist an exclusive interview with a murder suspect? Talk about click bait. The publisher would be in raptures. And she would get a chance to let Newhouse, in his own words, show the world what a conceited, self-centered pig he was. No one would believe his claims of innocence after she got done with her story.
“I’ll have to clear it with my editor,” she said. “But I’m interested.”
“Good. Give me a call back once you’ve talked to him.”
Kate dropped the handset back in its cradle and strode over to Hunter Lewis’s office. By the time she knocked on his open door, she was grinning.
“You’ll never guess who just called me.”
Lewis raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Aaron Newhouse’s attorney.”
Lewis’s second eyebrow shot up to match the first one. “What did he want?”
“He’s offering me an exclusive, or rather, Newhouse is offering me an exclusive. He wants to tell his side of the story.”
Lewis let out a low whistle.
“At first I thought there was no way I would put myself in the same room with him again. But think about the story! Everyone’s going to want to read it. I’m sure the New York Times wouldn’t say no.”
Lewis laughed. “No, I don’t suppose they would. What did you tell him?”
“That I had to talk to my editor.”
He chuckled. “Well, let’s go see what Mattingly thinks.”
Kate recounted her conversation with Castleman for the managing editor. He leaned back in his chair as she talked, his bushy eyebrows kissing over the bridge of his nose.
“So I told him I had to clear it with you. What do you think?”
“It’s a helluva plan. Wonder what game Castleman’s trying to play.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s trying his case in the press. Why? How does that benefit Newhouse?”
“Well, I got the impression he wasn’t all that excited about it, to be honest. Seems like it’s something Newhouse wanted.”
“Castleman wouldn’t allow it if he thought it would hurt his case.”
Kate looked over at Lewis, seated in the chair next to her.
“You don’t think we should do it?” he asked.
“I’m not saying that. But if we’re going to get used, I wanna know why. I also don’t want Bennett called in as a witness in a murder trial.”
Kate frowned. She hadn’t thought about that. But if the DA thought she had information that would help his case, he wouldn’t hesitate to issue a subpoena.
“So, how do we avoid that?” she asked.
“Not sure we can. We might just have to risk it. Readers will eat this story up. And I don’t want him taking it to someone else.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“With a few ground rules.” Mattingly held up a finger. “First, Lewis, I want you to go with her. I don’t want him trying anything funny. Second, you tell him anything he says is fair game. If he doesn’t want to see it printed in black and white, he’d better not say it. We’re not doing anything off the record. That’s our best defense against a subpoena.”
The excitement building behind the dam of Kate’s doubt began to trickle over the spillway. A little shiver shot up her back. Knowing she wouldn’t have to face Newhouse alone squashed any remaining hesitation.
Now all she could think about was what Newhouse would say. And how she could make him look like the lying murderer he was.
“Alright then. I’ll call Castleman back and set it up.”
She was halfway to the door when Mattingly called her back.
“Don’t let your history with Newhouse get in the way here. Of course, you don’t believe he’s innocent. Neither do I. But you’ll get a better story if you use that skepticism like a scalpel, not a sword. Cut through his crap, but don’t lop off his head.”
Kate laughed and gave her boss a thumbs up as she retreated to her desk.
On her way home, Kate debated calling Johnson. She wanted to know if he’d found any more evidence, but she wasn’t sure she should tell him about the meeting with Newhouse scheduled for the next morning. She considered Johnson as a co-belligerent in the fight for justice. But that didn’t mean their battle plans always aligned.
Eventually, the desire to hear a friendly voice won over her hesitation.
“I was wondering when you were going to call me,” he said by way of greeting.
She wasn’t sure when they’d dropped the need for formal hellos, but it made her smile every time.
“Oh, I thought you needed a break from being badgered,” she said breezily.
“Right. You must have been busy today. I saw your story about the bail hearing. I hoped Mahoney would push harder to keep Newhouse locked up, but I guess that wasn’t likely given his resources.”
“At least he’s not free to roam or skip town.”
“That’s true. But I’m sorry we couldn’t make him a little more uncomfortable, to make up at least a little for what he did to you.”
Kate smiled. “Thanks, but given what he probably did to Emily Gibson, I guess I shouldn’t really complain.”
“Ha! Well, still. I know how you feel about people not getting what they deserve.”
“He’s going to stand trial for murder. That’s something.”
“Let’s just hope Mahoney can get a conviction. Or that Newhouse has an attack of conscience and confesses.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Why not?”
Kate hesitated. “He’s doubling down on his claims of innocence.”
“What does that mean?”
Kate took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but this is off the record.”
“What?” Johnson burst out laughing. “That’s my line.”
“I know! But you have to promise you won’t repeat this. It will all come out Wednesday morning anyway, so you don’t have to wait long.”
“Okay…” He drew out the word in an unspoken question.
“I got a call from Bruce Castleman today. Newhouse wants to tell me his side of the story. An exclusive interview. But it’s definitely not a confession. Castleman said he has some theory about what might have happened to Emily.”
Johnson groaned. “And I’m sure you’re going to do the interview, right?”
“Yep.”
“Kate, haven’t you had enough of his lies and intimidation? You already know what he’s going to say. He’s just using you to taint the jury pool.”
Anger bristled in her chest. “I’m not an idiot. I know he’s playing a game. But I’m not about to let him give his exclusive to the Times.”
“Even if it means you might help him get off? I thought you wanted him to pay for what he did to Emily Gibson.”
“I do! But if he wants to tell his story, he’ll do it somewhere. Why not let the Gazette get credit for it?”
“And is the Gazette going to take credit for helping him beat a murder charge? Seems like you’re undermining your campaign for justice.”
His accusation knifed through her self-assurance. Indignation flushed her cheeks.
“What happened to your insistence that things would work out in the end?”
“What happened to your belief that everyone has a duty to see justice served?”
Kate gritted her teeth. “That’s what I’m doing. Believe me, no one who reads my story will vote to acquit if they get picked for a jury.”
Silence. For a moment, Kate thought Johnson had hung up.
“So, you’re planning to do a hatchet job on purpose to influence the trial?”
“It’s not a hatchet job if it’s true! We both know he killed Emily Gibson. I’m just doing my part to make sure everyone else knows it, too.”
“Kate…” He trailed off.
“What?” The defensiveness in her voice grated on her ears. Why couldn’t he see that she was trying to make the DA’s job easier?
“I do think Newhouse did something to Emily. But I’ve been wrong before. It’s not up to us to decide whether he’s guilty. That’s the jury’s job.”
“But they’re only going to hear his lawyer’s description of him as a fine, upstanding citizen. And obviously, he’s biased!”
“But you’re biased, too.” He said it so quietly she almost didn’t catch it all. “And you might not be any closer to the actual truth than Newhouse’s lawyer. Look, do I want to see him convicted? Yes. But not at the expense of true justice. If we don’t have the evidence, I’d rather him walk free.”
Kate flinched. Watching another murderer go free would shred her last morsel of hope in humanity. Johnson sighed, almost as though he could read her thoughts.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. And I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t. Believe me, I want to show you that sometimes justice does get served the way you think it should.”
Tears pricked the back of Kate’s eyes. He understood. Even though he didn’t depend on immediate justice, he knew it was her gospel.
She cleared her throat.
“I promise I won’t let him win,” she said huskily. “I promise.”
Chapter 11
When Kate’s alarm went off at 6 a.m. the next morning, she wasn’t even tempted to hit snooze. She put the coffeepot to work before jumping in the shower. Considering how fitfully she’d slept, she felt surprisingly alert.
Most days, she considered her clothing selection inconsequential. Her wardrobe was functional and practical, nothing flashy. But today she debated for fifteen minutes over what to wear. She wanted to look as professional and competent as possible. Newhouse would have no reason to sneer at her today. After pulling on fitted black slacks and buttoning up a pale blue blouse, she twisted her hair into a knot at the nape of her neck.
For the next hour, she pored over her notes and reviewed the questions she’d written down the night before. Two cups of coffee later, she strode into the newsroom to meet Hunter Lewis.
“Well, it looks like you’re ready,” he said after taking in her outfit. “How do you feel?”
“Good. I’m ready. I’m going to nail him to the wall.”
Lewis raised an eyebrow.
“What?” she demanded.
“That doesn’t sound very objective.”
“Do not tell me you think he’s innocent.”
Lewis pursed his lips and locked his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. I don’t want him to use us to get off. But I’m also not interested in prematurely convicting him on the front page. That’s not our job.”
“Our job is to tell the truth!”
“The truth we know, not the truth we believe.”
“Sometimes they’re the same thing.”
Lewis smiled and stood up. “And sometimes what we believe turns out not to be true. Only time will tell.”
Newhouse lived in Cedar Lawn, a neighborhood that dated back to the 1920s. Like most of the island, it contained an eclectic mix of houses. And many of them had a history. Some, like the one designed for Sam Maceo, even had a place in history. The same architect had designed Frank Sinatra’s home in Palm Springs. Newhouse lived in a Mid-Century Modern bungalow that perched on an immaculate expanse of emerald green grass. It didn’t share the opulence that oozed from its Colonial Revival neighbors, but it had a snappy panache that suited its owner.
Kate took measured, deep breaths as she led Lewis up the sidewalk. They paused for a moment in the entryway before ringing the doorbell.
Seconds after the chimes died away, Bruce Castleman opened the door. A guarded smile stretched his lips but didn’t touch his eyes.
“Come in, come in. Thank you for coming.”
They stepped into a small foyer that managed not to feel cramped, thanks to white walls and light wood trim. An abstract oil painting in dark blues and yellows hung over an angular glass and iron side table.
“Can I get you some coffee? No? Alright, let’s go into the living room. Aaron is waiting.”
Castleman led them down a short hallway that opened into the home’s main living area. Kate glimpsed glittering water and bright tropical flowers through the tall windows before a movement drew her attention to Newhouse. He stood as they approached but made no attempt to step forward and shake hands. She glanced at his ankle, where a thick black band sat conspicuously above his shiny wingtips.
He grimaced and his eyes narrowed just slightly.
“It’s a small price to pay for getting out of that wretched hole,” he said, gesturing at his foot. “But it’s totally unnecessary. I have no intention of going anywhere until this is all cleared up.”
As though the thought of the fight ahead exhausted him, Newhouse abruptly sat down again and closed his eyes.
Kate glanced questioningly at Lewis before Castleman jumped into the awkward silence.
“Please sit down. Make yourselves comfortable.”
Kate perched on the edge of the leather sectional and dropped her purse at her feet. Newhouse watched her through narrowed lids as she opened her notebook to a clean page and balanced it on her knees. His steady, calculating gaze made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
“Mr. Castleman didn’t think you would come after what happened the other day,” he said. “I told him I didn’t think you could resist. Figuring out what happened is like putting together a puzzle for you. Am I right? You just can’t let it go until all the pieces fit into place.”
Kate tried to ignore her thumping heart. A sudden surge of nervousness made her tremble. She laced her fingers together in her lap so he wouldn’t see her hands shake and stared back at him until she was sure her voice wouldn’t betray her rising unease.
“I do want to know what happened to Emily Gibson. It’s only a puzzle because someone keeps trying to hide the pieces.”
Newhouse snorted. “Well, I suppose that’s true. The question is, who?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers for you. Maybe after we’re done today, you’ll realize there are still other pieces left to find.”
Kate was about to respond when Lewis interrupted. She was so absorbed in Newhouse’s cryptic word game she’d almost forgotten he was there.
“Dr. Newhouse, I’m Hunter Lewis. I’m Kate’s editor. Before we get started, I just want to remind you that we will consider everything you say here on the record. If there’s anything you, or Mr. Castleman, don’t want to see in print, please don’t say it. We will not agree to leave anything out, under any circumstances.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lewis,” Castleman said. “As you can imagine, I have advised Dr. Newhouse that doing this interview might not be in his best interests. But he insisted. And we understand the terms.”
“Poor Bruce!” Newhouse barked a humorless laugh. “I’m not exactly a model client. But since it’s my neck on the line, I think I should be allowed to have my own way.”
Castleman spread his hands in front of him as though surrendering the argument.
“Now, Ms. Bennett,” Newhouse said, returning his narrowed gaze back to her face. “As you are here to ask questions, I suppose I should let you do it. But I just want to say one thing first.”
Kate’s nervous tremble had subsided into a hum of energy that ricocheted through her brain like a double shot of espresso. She focused all her attention on the man sitting across from her. Every gesture, every glance held a clue about how much of what he would say was truth and how much was a lie. She held her breath.
“I did not do anything to Emily Gibson. I didn’t harm her in any way. Did we disagree about how to handle the vaccine trial setback? Yes. But I had absolutely nothing to do with her disappearance. And I have no idea where she is.”
