‘What happens to Noah, if this is true? He was convicted of killing Anna, but Anna isn’t dead.’
‘I was wondering about that too. I don’t know what it means, legally. They don’t just let him go. I mean, that girl was murdered.’ Maggie gripped the steering wheel. She glanced in the backseat to make sure Caleb wasn’t listening, and he was still ear-plugged into the video game. ‘Kathy, do me a favor, get my phone out of my purse, look up Neil Seligman, and call him? He’s one of the criminal lawyers I know from work. He might have the answer.’
‘I’ll do it, you drive.’ Kathy started digging in her purse, found the phone, and pressed in Neil’s number. ‘Got it.’
‘Put him on speaker, okay?’ Maggie drove while Kathy switched the phone to speaker, and it rang twice.
Neil picked up. ‘Hello?’
‘Neil, this is Maggie Ippoliti. Got a minute?’
‘Of course. I was thinking of you, reading about your husband’s conviction. This must be a very difficult time for you.’
‘Yes it is, thank you. Do you have a minute to talk?’
‘Of course.’
‘Neil, I’m in a car with my best friend Kathy, and I have a question for you about my husband. Can I speak to you confidentially, as an attorney?’
‘Certainly.’
‘There’s been a surprising development in his case, and I’d like to get your opinion.’ Maggie launched into the story about the phone call from Congreve and learning that the girl whom Noah had been convicted of killing wasn’t Anna. Caleb kept playing his video game, and they sped past billboards on the way to the airport. Trucks and vans sprayed water and road salt.
‘So what do you think, Neil?’ Maggie asked, when she was finished.
‘Noah doesn’t get out of jail free. The fact that he was convicted of killing someone – let’s call her Jane Doe, but she was in reality, Susan Smith – is not relevant to his conviction, if the only new fact is just a mistaken identity.’
‘I figured.’ Maggie felt a pang.
‘Under the doctrine of transferred intent, the intent to murder may be transferred where the person who was actually killed was not the intended victim. Think of it like a situation where someone shot at another person’s head with the intent to kill him, and that person ducked, and a third person was killed. You follow?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie and Kathy answered in unison.
‘It’s still first-degree murder, despite the fact that the shooter did not intend to kill that person. The same would be true if someone put poison in someone’s coffee cup with the intent to kill that person, and a third person drank the coffee and died.’
‘I understand.’ Maggie saw they were closing in on the airport.
‘So Noah is still guilty of first-degree murder. It’s not legally relevant if he was mistaken about the identity of the person he killed. Now, where the mistaken-identity issue could be helpful is if Noah can present substantial evidence that the person thought to be Jane Doe was actually killed by someone who wanted to kill Susan Smith and that person knew Jane Doe was Susan Smith. However, it would require evidence and not just speculation.’
‘I get it, thanks.’
‘Good, I’ll get back to my brief. See you at work. When do you come back?’
‘Next week, when Caleb goes back to school. Thanks again, bye.’ Maggie hung up.
‘You’re getting carried away, girl.’ Kathy looked over with a frown. ‘Just because somebody was impersonating Anna doesn’t mean that Noah didn’t kill her.’
‘It could.’ Maggie felt her pulse quicken as she drove.
‘But it doesn’t necessarily, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up.’
‘I like my hopes up. They’ve been down so long.’
‘But it’ll be worse later.’ Kathy glanced at Caleb, then lowered her voice. ‘Face it, Noah killed that girl, whoever she was. He was convicted. There was a lot of evidence against him.’
‘But think about it. We know now that the girl was impersonating Anna. Doesn’t it make you wonder if she was lying about Noah?’
‘Lying when she said that he was abusing her?’
‘Yes, why not?’ Maggie shot back. ‘She was lying about everything else. She was lying about who she was. She was pretending to be my daughter when she wasn’t.’
Kathy looked unconvinced. ‘Noah lied about Jordan in the hotel room.’
‘True.’ Maggie sped ahead in the rain, spotting the airport ahead.
‘And what about the text he sent Anna? He lied about that.’
‘What if he didn’t? What if she sent it herself the way he said? What if he was telling the truth, all along?’
‘He wasn’t. You’re getting kooky.’ Kathy shook her head.
‘But it really makes you think, doesn’t it?’ Maggie’s heart lifted. ‘Stranger things have happened, haven’t they?’
‘Yes they have, and to you.’
‘Tell me about it!’ Maggie found herself smiling for the first time in a long time, heading to the airport exit.
Chapter Sixty-seven
Noah, After
Noah didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he awoke to noises in the hallway. Shuffling, whispering, and panting. He sat up in alarm. It was still nighttime. He could barely see in the darkness. Inmates were opening his cell door.
‘Doc, get down here!’ Peach whispered.
Two men rushed in like shadows, dragging a third inmate to the far side of the cell under the window. Noah heard rapid breathing and knew the man was in deep trouble.
He grabbed the brown bag, jumped off his bunk, and hustled to the men against the far wall. He crouched over the injured inmate, who lay on his back, his head against the wall, his mouth open.
The man’s chest heaved noisily with each breath. He was barely conscious. His eyes fluttered, the pupils rolling back in his head. Blood soaked his shirt, spreading at a catastrophic rate.
‘Doc, you gotta help him!’ one of the inmates whispered, his eyes wide.
‘I’m outta here!’ the other inmate said, bolting out of the cell.
‘What happened?’ Noah felt the injured inmate’s neck for a pulse. It was weak. The skin was clammy. The body shook. The man panted, in shock.
‘He’s cut in the chest! You gotta fix him up!’
‘Peach, get a flashlight. I need to see.’ Noah leaned closer to the injured man, patting his face. ‘Buddy, stay with me.’
‘Doc, sew him up! You got the stuff, right?’
‘Peach, a flashlight. Hurry.’ Noah raced to unbutton the injured man’s shirt, and a stream of blood geysered into the air.
‘Doc, he’s bleedin’ like crazy!’ The inmate recoiled. ‘You gotta sew him up!’
Noah grabbed a towel off the rack, balled it up, and pressed it down on the injured man’s chest. He had to stanch the bloodflow so he could examine the wound. He could feel the warm blood pulsing into the towel under his palms, coming at regular intervals. The knife must have severed an artery.
‘Here’s light!’ Peach aimed a cone of jittery brightness on the man’s heaving chest.
‘Stay with me, buddy.’ Noah moved the towel to look at the injured man’s chest. It was a gruesome sight. One four-inch gash near the heart, severing the aortic artery. Two cuts puncturing the left lobe of the lung, bubbling air and blood. Noah replaced the towel and pressed down to stop the loss of blood.
‘Doc, what are you waiting for! Sew him up!’
‘I can’t. I can’t move the towel. He needs surgery.’
‘So do it!’
‘It doesn’t work that way –’ Noah started to say, but the inmate shoved him in fury. He fell backwards, scrambling to keep his balance. The soaked towel came off the injured man’s chest. Noah lunged forward, grabbed it, and pressed it back down.
‘Doc, sew him!’
The injured man stopped breathing. His eyes traveled heavenward, then stopped there, fixed.
Noah started chest compressions on top of the towel. ‘We have to call somebody.’
‘Sew him, come on!’
‘Listen, you can’t just sew the skin. He’ll bleed out internally. There’s not enough blood to keep the heart pumping. That’s why it stopped.’ Noah kept compressing the chest. He didn’t feel the arterial pulse anymore.