Teddy is Derek Rawlings’s son.” Thank God for social media. She’d found Teddy online. Sam had mentioned he’d gone to Columbia University and that had been enough to track him down. She’d messaged him and then cal ed him after speaking with Nicola Pandy.
“Teddy believes his father was guilty of Sarah’s murder. He is wil ing to have his DNA taken, for the purpose of familial DNA testing. I believe that the test wil show that the hair that was taken from Sarah’s scene was that of Derek Rawlings, and that it wil match the hair from the Cantrel scene also.”
Engle final y took to his feet. He looked utterly shaken and Hannah wondered again what was in that manila folder with his name on it. She hadn’t had time to look at it.
“Judge, this is al wel and good, but we are in obvious hearsay territory here. If Ms. Pandy wishes to give evidence in this case, then she should give evidence. We cannot rely on Ms. Rokeby’s word.
She has, after al , just confessed to breaking into the property of a law enforcement officer. And we stil have no chain of title for this socal ed hair evidence, even should DNA testing proceed.”
Parekh stood too, keen to take back control of his case, and the attorneys argued the law around admissibility until the judge cal ed a halt. The tiredness that had been in her face when Hannah had entered the courtroom had disappeared. She looked sharp and focused, like someone who had sensed an opportunity and wasn’t about to let it go past.
“Let’s not lose track of what we’re doing here. This is a preliminary hearing, not a trial,” she said. “Right now, I’m not satisfied that there is sufficient evidence against the defendant for this case to proceed. The eyewitness has withdrawn his testimony.
There is also serious doubt about the credibility of the evidence that Sheriff Pierce has put forward regarding Mr. Dandridge’s confession.
Right now, unless you have something else, Mr. Engle, I’m inclined to dismiss the charges.”
She looked at Engle, waiting for his response, and Hannah held her breath. Engle looked at Pierce, who was stil sitting and sweating in the witness box. Pierce looked like a trapped animal. It occurred to Hannah that he was probably armed. She noticed that the bailiff, a huge man, at least six foot four and built like a UFC fighter, had taken up a position close by.
Engle had nothing. Burrel knocked her gavel lightly. “I’m dismissing the charges in this case at this time. I am not satisfied that there is probable cause here. Mr. Dandridge, you are free to go.”
Michael didn’t move. He looked from Hannah to Parekh and back again, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Parekh clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Pierce stood up to leave. His eyes—red-rimmed and furious—went to Hannah and she knew that he would be coming for her.
Judge Burrel raised a hand. “No, Sheriff Pierce, I’d like you to stay for a moment, please.” She turned to her bailiff. “Marcus, can you clear the courtroom, please?”
IT TOOK TEN MINUTES OR SO, BUT THE COURTROOM
EMPTIED OUT. Even Michael left, disappearing through a side door with Sean and Camila. Soon it was just the judge and her staff, the bailiff and the deputies, the attorneys, Pierce, and Hannah.
Burrel stared at Jackson Engle with narrowed eyes. “Given the serious nature of the al egations made by Ms. Rokeby, Jackson, I assume that you are going to investigate without delay.” It wasn’t a question, precisely, and Engle looked back at the judge blankly. “For example, I would assume that you wil shortly apply to me for a warrant to search Sheriff Pierce’s home for duplicate police files and blackmail material?”
“Judge—” Pierce tried to interrupt. The bailiff stepped closer to him. Burrel held up a hand to silence Pierce.
“I assume too that you wil be applying for a warrant to arrest Sheriff Pierce so that he can be questioned about the al egations?”
“I . . . yes.”
“Very wel .” Burrel turned to her clerk who handed her a sheet of paper. The judge bent her head to it, started writing, and without lifting her head from her work, said—“Marcus?”
The bailiff leaned into the witness box and, putting one meaty hand on Pierce’s forearm to restrain him, quickly unclipped Pierce’s holster and removed his gun. Pierce reacted like a jack-in-the-box.
He burst from his chair and turned and tried to reach for the bailiff, swearing. But the bailiff—Marcus—shoved Pierce back into a sitting position with relative ease. Pierce sat staring up at him while Marcus hovered over him and there was an air of barely restrained violence between them.
Burrel signed the sheet of paper in front of her with a flourish.
She held it out to Jackson Engle. “Here you are, Jackson. The deputies here wil assist you in taking Sheriff Pierce into custody.”
Hannah held her breath. There was a moment when things hovered. Burrel sat with her arm stil extended. The deputies, who were technical y under Pierce’s command, after al , and only seconded to the court for security purposes, hesitated, unsure of themselves. And Pierce seemed like he might tackle the bailiff at any moment. And then Engle nodded heavily and took the warrant, bowing to the inevitable. The deputies fol owed his lead and took Pierce into custody. And just like that, it was done.
LATER, HANNAH AND ROBERT PAREKH WERE ALONE IN THE
EMPTY courtroom. “I knew there was something,” he said. “From the beginning I knew. I should have sent you away, but I was curious.
You were a mystery that I wanted to solve.” He had a mocking, amused look on his face, but it was directed inward. “Serves me right that you were a mole.” The amusement turned into a grin. “But if I hadn’t brought you in we’d never have ended up here, would we?”
“I don’t know. I think, maybe, if I hadn’t been distracting everyone . . .”
“Bul shit.” He regarded her. “What are you going to do next? Not go back to Maine, I think.”
Hannah said nothing. She hadn’t thought about what might come after. The decisions she would have to make.
“Come back to the Project,” Parekh said. “Finish out the year. You have talent, Hannah. And more than that, you’re a fighter. I told you I need people who are wil ing to go the extra mile.” He laughed.
“Jesus, if that’s ever you . . .”
“I . . .”
“Remember the Nia Jones case? You brought that to me, and it’s waiting for you. There’s stil work to be done. So think about it, okay?”
The idea appealed to her. She didn’t want to go back to Maine.
But she didn’t know what she wanted. She felt more adrift than ever.
But it wasn’t that easy. And besides, there were complications.
“I’m not a student,” Hannah said abruptly.
He stared at her. “What?”
“I mean, I’m enrol ed at U Maine, but not at Virginia. I only found out about the appeal in Michael’s case a few weeks ago. There was no way I could get a transfer so late in the year. I tried, but it wasn’t going to happen. Then I figured, I didn’t real y need to be a student. I just needed to look like one so I could get into the Project. So I paid someone to hack into the system at UVA and enter my name. They got me a student number and an email address and I had an ID
made up.”