The judge’s chambers. I’d seen them on TV, but this was my first time actually inside. Rizzola sat behind a short, solid-looking desk. Two filing cabinets lined one wall. A leather sofa faced them next to a window in the other wall, and two stout chairs pointed toward her desk. A water cooler sat near the door. The judge sat under a photo of Ruth Bader Ginsberg and groaned.
Paulus and Drake took the chairs. Jordyne and I sat on opposite ends of the sofa, avoiding each other’s eyes.
Rizzola crossed her arms. “That was some kind of stunt, counselor.”
Paulus glanced at Jordyne. “Not a stunt, your honor. No mirrors or holograms. You saw it just like everyone else.”
“I saw a person for half a second. You say it’s Clark Weston. You say it’s a ghost. You say he killed Arick Sail defending his wife. None of that counts as evidence, Mr. Paulus. Not in my court, not in any court.” She groaned again. “But now that it’s out there . . .”
She glared at everyone in the room. “We can’t unsee it. The jury can’t unsee it. Is that what you wanted, Mr. Paulus? Was that the idea all along when you called the ghostbuster here?” She looked at me.
“It was that or insanity—”
“I’m not insane!” Jordyne snapped. “You saw him! It was Clark! My husband tried to murder me, and he—he saved me. Clark.”
“A ghost.” The judge stared at her with eyes that had no doubt intimidated defendants for years.
Jordyne rubbed her eyes. “He’s real.”
“Oh for god’s sake.” Drake tapped an impatient foot. “None of this is admissible as evidence. Even if—I can’t even say it. I hate to say it, your honor, but a mistrial is the only way out. And when I try this case again, and I will—” He darted a glare at Paulus—”I’ll be sure this kind of thing gets quashed from the beginning. You want to plead insanity, just do it. You know it’s a loser.”
I sat forward. “What if—”
“What if what, Mr. Jurgen?” Drake looked ready to throw me out, and angry enough to do it without calling security. “You won’t be welcome in any courtroom in the state if this case gets retried, I can make sure of that.”
“What if you could question Clark Weston here?” I asked.
Drake snorted. “Are we going to hold a séance? Do you have any candles, judge?”
“The point of a trial is to get to the truth. Isn’t it? If you could talk to Clark Weston and satisfy yourself about what happened, you’d have to drop the charges, wouldn’t you?”
Drake stared at me. Then he laughed. “The point of a trial isn’t to get to the truth, Mr. Jurgen. It’s for one side to make a case and the other side to try poking holes in it, and letting the jury decide who did the better job.”
“This could be a pretty big hole in your case, sir. The actual killer.”
Jordyne flinched at the word “killer.” Drake simply stared at me.
“We can’t exactly swear him in, can we, Mr. Jurgen?” Rizzola’s voice was acid. “In open court? Or even here.”
“You can listen to him and decide for yourself.” There. They were on the edge of at least thinking about it. I wasn’t sure how much more I could do.
“Well, where is he?” Drake turned to Paulus. “All right. I’ll play along. Call your witness. If you can.” He smiled, as if he’d just made a joke.
“Your honor?” Paulus looked at the judge.
Rizzola sighed. “Might as well. Just to get this nonsense over with. I swear . . .” She rubbed her eyes. “Go ahead.”
Paulus turned to his client. “Jordyne?”
She sighed, closed her eyes, and folded her hands like a prayer. Her lips moved silently again, but I could see the name she was repeating. Clark. Clark, Clark, Clark . . .
Clark Weston appeared in a corner, in the same denim jacket and jeans he’d worn at Jordyne’s apartment.
He looked around, confused. “Jordyne?”
“Hi, Clark.” She stood up. Her voice was almost shy. “We’re in court. This is Judge, uh, Rizzola, and the D.A. You remember Stuart? And Tom Jurgen?”
Clark nodded slowly. “I think so.”
“I’m on trial. For—for killing Arick.” She wiped a tear from her eyes. “I need you to tell them what happened. I need you to stay here, and tell them what happened.”
He looked around the judge’s chambers, taking in all our faces, and even smiled a moment at Rizzola’s Ginsburg photo. Then he walked with careful steps across the room to Jordyne, as if taking care not to come into contact with anything or any of us. “Okay.”
“Clark.” Paulus stood up. “Tell us what—”
“Wait a minute.” Drake shot up. “Hold on. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right.” He held up his phone. “Just a minute, just a minute—okay, I’m recording. Your name?”
“Clark. Clark Weston.” He looked straight into the camera.
“When were you born?”
“April 22, 1992.” That came automatically.
“When did you die?”
He hesitated. “I’m—not sure. It was 2018, maybe 2019. I remember the car in front of me. I don’t know the exact date.”
Drake nodded, slipping into his professional demeanor without thinking about it. “Okay. Now tell us—”
“Counselor.” The judge held her hand out. “I believe the defense called the witness. I’ll take the phone.”
Drake looked as if he wanted to argue, but decided not to. He handed it to Rizzola.
She held it up, pointing at Clark, then nodded to Paulus. “Mr. Paulus, go ahead.”
Paulus almost laughed. Then he straightened his necktie and put on his serious face. “Mr. Weston—Clark. Can you tell us what happened the night—the night you helped Jordyne?”
Clark looked toward the ceiling, as if searching his memory. “Yes.” He looked at Jordyne. “Yes. I heard her screaming. Screaming for help. I heard my name. Then I saw her. And the guy. I didn’t know who he was, but he was strangling her. His hands around his throat.” He paused. “Jordyne was hitting him, trying to push him away, but he was shouting, and her face was getting all red and she stopped fighting, and it looked like . . .”
He looked at the judge. “It’s hard for me to move things. Just being here takes a lot of energy. But I—I had to help her. I don’t know what I grabbed—it was big and heavy, but I got it, and I hit him with it.” He looked down at his hands. “Just once. But it was hard, and heavy, and there was blood, but then he let go on Jordyne and fell down. I saw—I saw it leaving his body, and I knew he was dead. Like me.”
“Saw what?” Paulus asked.
Clark was uncertain. “His soul? I don’t know. But I knew he was gone. And Jordyne was safe.”
Paulus let that hang in the air a moment. Then he turned to Drake. “Your witness?”
The prosecutor looked like he was watching a movie he’d lost the plot of. “What? I, uh—your honor, how am I expected to cross-examine this so-called witness? There’s no way to ensure he’s telling the truth, I can’t charge a ghost for perjury under oath—”
“He can’t lie,” Jordyne said. “It’s impossible for him to lie.”
Clark nodded. “Not anymore. I don’t know how to do it. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Well, that’s convenient.” Drake looked at the judge. “Your honor, I won’t lie either—this is unbelievable. Literally unbelievable.”
Rizzola looked inclined to agree. She glanced at Paulus. Then me, as if this was all my fault. Finally she looked at Clark. “I have some questions of my own.”
Clark held Jordyne’s hand. “All right. I’m not sure—I’ll try to stay here as long as I can.”
“Please do.” She pursed her lips. “Did you intend to kill Arick Sail?”
He blinked. “I don’t know his name. I only wanted the man to stop hurting Jordyne.”
“Can you see him? Wherever you are when you’re not here?”
He shook his head. “I don’t see anything. It’s like I’m asleep. When Jordyne called me, I was just—there,”
Rizzola nodded toward Jordyne. “You have sex?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Is it good?”
“She feels good. I don’t feel anything.”
“Do you love her?”
The reply was just as quick as his other answers. “No.”
Jordyne flinched. She pulled her hand away from him, staring at his face, but said nothing.
The judge hesitated. Surprised? Sympathetic to the defendant? “Why are you here, then?”
“She called me.”
“I mean, before today? The other times. When you met her.”
Clark looked at her. “You kept calling me.”
Jordyne bit her lip, nodding. “Yeah.”
She was close to tears.
I opened my mouth, hesitated, then went with it anyway. “Clark, do you remember loving her? When you were alive?”
He smiled at her. “Yes.”
“Mr. Jurgen.” Rizzola gave me a stern look. “You are not entitled to question the witness.”
“Sorry, your honor.” But I felt a little better.
“Do you have any more questions, Mr. Drake?” The judge folded her hands on the desk.
Drake rolled his eyes. “No, your honor. I’m finished.”
“Then the witness is excused.” She nodded to Clark.
Clark looked at Jordyne and squeezed her hand with a smile.
“No! Wait!” Jordyne reached for him, but she was too late. Clark vanished.
She sank onto the sofa, crying softly.
Rizzola sighed. “Mr. Jurgen, get her a drink of water.” She motioned to the water cooler.
I brought Jordyne a cup and a paper towel. She nodded, drank it, and wiped her eyes with the towel. “Okay. I’m okay now.”
“Right.” Rizzola leaned back. “So, what the hell do we do now? Mr. Drake, do you want to continue with this case?”
“Your honor, none of this falls into the realm of credible testimony.” He looked at Paulus. “You have to know that.”
“You know what you saw,” Paulus said.
“I can’t possibly dismiss charges based on the say-so of a ghost!”
I raised a hand. “Your honor, may I speak?”
She jerked her eyes to me. “What?”
I cleared my throat, wishing for a cup of water myself. “It just seems to me that we all now know what happened. The point of a trial isn’t just about making a case, is it? It’s about seeing justice done. If you believe what you just saw, is there any justice to continuing? Isn’t it justice to say Ms. Sail has been through enough?”
“That’s for the jury to decide,” Drake said stubbornly.
“Then the jury deserves to hear what we just saw,” Paulus said. “Judge, you can play the recording, and we can testify to its truth—”
“That makes us all witnesses.” Rizzola shook her head. “You can’t be a defense attorney and witness in your own case. You can’t be a prosecutor and testify at the same time. I can’t testify in a case when I’m on the bench, either. I’d have to declare a mistrial, and you’d have to do this all over again. Is that what I’m going to have to do?”
No one answered.
The judge folded her arms. “All right. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to declare a mistrial based on that stunt you pulled in open court, Mr. Paulus. Mr. Drake, your office may file charges again if you decide to. If I am compelled, I will testify to what I’ve seen here today. Mr. Drake, you may choose to fight a subpoena from defense to avoid testimony, but that won’t be up to me. Mr. Paulus, since you’ll presumably be a witness, you won’t be able to represent Ms. Sail again. Mr. Jurgen . . .” She looked at me. “Get out of my chambers.”
I nodded. “Thank you, your honor.”
“What happened?” Rachel asked when I sat down next to her in the courtroom.
“You’ll see.”
The judge declared a mistrial, based on the unannounced witness purporting to be Clark Weston. The prosecuting attorney was free to file charges again. In the meantime, the jury was free to go. So was the defendant. Rizzola banged her gavel. Court was adjourned.
Drake ignored me as Rachel and I walked up to Paulus’s desk.
“Well, that happened.” Paulus sighed, stuffing papers in his briefcase
“What now?” Jordyne asked.
He shrugged. “It depends on him.” He waved at the prosecutor. Who ignored him too.
Jordyne looked at me. “Well, thank you. I guess.” The words were cold. So were her fingers when we shook hands.
“I’m sorry about everything,” I said. She didn’t respond.
Rachel reached out. “Good luck.”
Jordyne shook her hand too. “You are . . .?”
“Rachel. Tom’s girlfriend. He’s an okay guy. Really.”
Jordyne didn’t seem convinced. She left with Paulus, who said he’d call me.
Back home we opened beers and sat in front of a silent TV. “You okay?” Rachel asked.
“Yeah.” I’d told her what happened in chambers. “As good as we could expect, I guess.” Then I turned to her. “Okay. What did you mean when Clark showed up in the courtroom?”
She leaned back. “I wasn’t really sure until I shook her hand. Then I felt it.”
“Felt what?”
“Him. Inside her.” Rachel sipped her beer. “It wasn’t really a ghost we saw.”
I was confused. “So what was it?”
“Jordyne’s mind.” She crossed her arms. “She created him from inside her brain. It was her memory of him. She made it real.”
Wow. I sipped my beer, trying to make sense out of it. “You got that right when he showed up?”
“I just knew it wasn’t a ghost. I mean, we’ve dealt with ghosts. I know how they feel. With this guy—I could feel the connection with her when he showed up in the courtroom, but I wasn’t sure what it meant. That’s why I wanted to shake her hand.” She looked at the blank TV screen. “Maybe she doesn’t even know.”
“He said he didn’t love her.”
“Maybe she’s starting to realize there’s no future with a ghost boyfriend.”
“Wait.” I sat forward. “That means she really did kill her husband? Sort of?”
“Don’t start.” Rachel slugged my shoulder. “He was trying to strangle her, remember? Self-defense. Don’t beat yourself more than you have already. She’s not in jail. And she shouldn’t be.”
“Yeah.” I put my arm around her. “I hate cheating spouse cases.”
“They pay the bills.” She kissed me. “Don’t you ever cheat on me, though. I will kill you.”
I nodded. “Not a chance.”
XXX5
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