A Cold Day in Hell Read online

  Turning back to the jury, he grabbed the jury box rail with both hands, his voice raising in righteous indignation. “Ladies and gentlemen, David Ryan Spencer wanted Katherine Vine. He wanted her in the worst way. He saw her on numerous occasions and lusted after her. He said it in his own statement. David Ryan Spencer saw an opportunity and he took it. To say Katherine Vine randomly had sex with him and then another person showed up moments later and killed her is something that happens on television, not in real life.”

  He let that sink in a second, his eyes skipping from one juror’s face to the next. “This is real life. David Ryan Spencer wanted to have sex with Katherine Vine. So he concocted a plan. He tricked her into leaving her credit card, he had sex with her, and then strangled her to death. It’s that simple.”

  With those words, and the expression on the faces of the jurors, Lauren’s hopes sank.

  83

  At 11:23 in the morning on the fifth day, the trail was over. Unlike the O.J. Simpson case, which played out for weeks, most murder cases are presented and wrapped up in a matter of days. When Carl Church finished his simple—yet brilliant—summation, the judge charged the jury, issuing them the detailed instructions on how to go about their deliberations, then sent them into the jury room. It was a Friday, the day most feared by prosecutors and defense attorney’s alike for beginning deliberations. While some juries took longer to reach a verdict than the trial itself took, Friday juries were notorious for quick verdicts. The jurors wanted their weekend. They didn’t want to be sequestered. They wanted their family and friends and their lives and to be done with the case. While the judge let the bailiffs order in food for them, the rest of the cast of characters agonized in the wings, waiting for the verdict. All the months of preparation, hearings, motions, and testimony boiled down to this. What Lauren had come to think of as The Wait.

  “I hate waiting for things.”

  “I thought I was the impatient one between the two of us,” Violanti replied, squirming in his seat. Lauren fought the urge. The chairs in the conference room that the judge had provided them were cushioned, but still uncomfortable. The two of them sat facing each other, sweating out the jury deliberations together. She wished Reese could have come back there with them. It gave her some comfort to know he was still out in the courtroom, waiting. He was a hell of a friend to stick it out with her. They both knew the jury could be out for six hours or six days.

  Five hours into it, Violanti was starting to get antsy. If they didn’t reach a verdict by six o’clock, the judge would send them home. Lauren felt a bumping motion shaking her chair.

  Violanti’s leg had begun to bounce up and down. He knew better than anyone what a Friday meant. The anticipation was becoming agonizing.

  “Stop it,” she hissed.

  He immediately clamped a hand over his nervous leg. “Sorry.” Violanti looked at his watch. “It’s five fifteen now.”

  “Fifteen minutes later than the last time you checked.” But she glanced at her phone too, just to be sure.

  He had his notes spread across the table in front of him. He kept going over and over the testimony, looking for what he could have done better, what he would change. Lauren wanted to tell him that he had done everything he could, that he gave David a great defense, but she couldn’t muster the energy. She wished he hadn’t banished his two assistants to wait in the courtroom in case there was any activity he should know about. Outside the door of the conference room, she could see David’s mom hunched over with a woman holding her shoulders. Better for the both of them to hide out in the little room next to the courtroom and pretend to look busy and not worried.

  One of the bailiffs had stuck her head in the door. “Mr. Violanti?”

  “Yes?”

  “The judge wants to see all the attorneys in his chambers immediately.”

  Lauren and Violanti looked at each other and both jumped up. This was not usual. The first thing that ran through her mind was juror misconduct. A mistrial. The thought of having to do it all over again made her stomach twist into a knot. All of this, she thought, the trial, reconnecting with Mark, getting stalked by Joe Wheeler, could have just been a first act, a dress rehearsal, a Goddamn run-through.

  They followed the portly little deputy back into the courtroom and into a hallway that ran behind the bench. The judge’s chambers were full.

  “Counselor.” Judge O’Keefe motioned to a seat next to the district attorney. Violanti shook his head. Lauren tried to melt into the background. Something was very wrong. The tension in the room was electric. It played across every face packed in there. Lauren could tell, whatever it was, it was not good news. Carl Church was already making a pitch to the judge.

  “Respectfully, Judge,” the district attorney began, “I think this calls for a recess so we can access the situation.”

  “What situation?” Violanti demanded. “The jury is already out. How can we recess? What’s going on?”

  The judge held up his hand, silencing them both. “Mr. Violanti, the state police have just notified this court that a body believed to be that of Amber Anderson was just discovered in a wooded area sixty miles south of the city. The district attorney wants a continuance to investigate any relevance to this case.”

  There was a stunned silence. Those who had walked in late had the wind knocked out of them. Lauren looked at Violanti, but he was already approaching the judge’s desk to stand next to Church.

  Joe Wheeler was leaning up against the back wall with a satisfied look on his face. The wind is back in that prick’s sail, Lauren thought. As far as he’s concerned, this was all the proof he needs that David Spencer is a murdering sexual predator. When Lauren tried to catch his eye, he looked away. She didn’t know what she would have said exactly if he hadn’t been basking in this perceived triumph, but it was nothing ladylike, that was for sure.

  “Whoa, hold up here, Judge. This case has already been tried. The district attorney doesn’t get to go fishing just because a body has been found. We won’t even know if it is Amber Anderson for days. Even if it is her, it has no bearing on the matter at hand.”

  “I disagree, Judge. If we were allowed to examine the preliminary findings, we might—”

  “I object to any delay in the outcome of this case.” Violanti held his ground.

  Church pulled himself up to his full height, so that he towered over Violanti. “And I submit that this is a significant event that warrants further review.” The two men began arguing, the room erupted in shouts and curses. The judge yelled for silence. In all her years on the department, Lauren had never seen anything like this before. Two of the deputies wedged themselves between Church and Violanti, trying to break things up.

  At the moment, another deputy stuck his head in the door. “Judge O’Keefe, the jury has a message for you.” As if on cue, the room suddenly went silent. The intruding deputy reached over and handed a folded piece of paper to the judge. His face was red and blotchy from trying to regain control of his chambers. He took the paper with aggravated relief. Opening it, he read it and tossed it onto his desk.

  “Well, ladies and gentleman, the point is moot. The jury has reached a verdict.”

  Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath.

  Lauren was numb. There was no more shouting. All the grandstanding was done. With the verdict in, the die was officially cast.

  She flashed back to the picture of Amber Anderson on the wall of her parent’s filthy house. She thought of the way David Spencer had described having sex with Katherine Vine. She could feel his hand on her face. A shudder ran through her. This could not be happening. She needed more time to process this information, but there was no time. This was it. What they had all been waiting for. Violanti and Carl led the way and she followed the small crowd out of chambers and filed back into the courtroom.

  Five and a half hours. Not long. That was not long
to deliberate. There was no way to tell which way it was going to go. And now there was a body of a young girl who may or may not be David’s ex-girlfriend. Had David killed Amber Anderson? Had he killed Katherine Vine? Had he raped Samantha Godwin?

  What had she done?

  For the first time in her life, Lauren wished she didn’t have to hear the verdict.

  She took her seat behind the defense table. “What’s going on?” Reese pressed when he saw her face. “What’s wrong?” All she could do was shake her head and stare at the empty jury box. She fought back the bile rising to her throat as the players made their way back to their places.

  The district attorney and his second chair stood at the prosecution table, ready. Church looked tense, standing with his fingers splayed over the table, jaw set, as the courtroom deputies opened the doors for the public.

  Reporters began to flood in, excited by the quick verdict, knowing that tonight would be a good news night. David’s mom entered with her friend and sat behind Lauren. She could hear Mrs. Spencer breathing to the point of hyperventilation, her friend trying to calm her down, unsuccessfully.

  Across the aisle, Anthony Vine sat with a stony face, surrounded by his entourage. His meaty arms were folded across his chest. One of his men leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He nodded, but his expression never changed. He stared straight ahead, waiting for the show to begin. Joe Wheeler sat down next to him, his face a tense mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

  Lauren couldn’t accept the possiblity that Joe may have been right all along, that she had been duped, fooled. Every ounce of her common sense had told her not to take the case in the beginning, but she had anyway. Now she questioned if that was because she had thought she could prove David was innocent or because she could not allow Joe Wheeler to be right. With all the particulars she’d seen, all the people she talked to, she was still conflicted. Was it because of the hard evidence or just the feeling there was something off about David? Because the facts she had dug up certainly created reasonable doubt. Vine had the means, motive, and opportunity to murder his wife. What was David’s motive? What possible reason did he have to kill Katherine Vine? The only person who benefited from her death was her husband. So why was she physically sick to her stomach?

  The deputies brought David in, sat him at the defense table, and took his cuffs off. He glanced back at his mother, gave Lauren a half smile, then turned to face forward. Staring at the back of his head, she fought the bile rising up in her throat. Who is this kid? she thought. Who is he really?

  The bailiff surveyed the courtroom, made sure all the appropriate people were where they were supposed to be, then called out, “All rise.”

  The courtroom rose in unison. Judge O’Keefe came from the left and stepped up to his seat. There was no hint in his demeanor of the drama that had been unfolding in his chambers not fifteen minutes before.

  All the players were in place.

  The judge admonished the crowd that no outbursts would be tolerated. Everyone sat back down.

  “Bring in the jury,” he instructed.

  There was no sound as the group of four men and eight women shuffled into the jury box, no reading their faces. They looked blankly toward the judge. After only five and a half hours, they looked tired and worn out. That’s not a good sign, Lauren thought as she scanned each juror. Weary people don’t deliberate, they just want to go home.

  “In the case of the people versus David Spencer, Madam Forewoman, have you reached a verdict?”

  The forewoman, a black lady with smooth ebony skin and short cropped hair, had on a flowered dress that seemed too bright and cheerful for the occasion. Her attitude was anything but cheery as she rose and passed a piece of paper to the bailiff on her left. Her eyes looked red rimmed, like she’d been crying. “Yes, we have, Your Honor.”

  The bailiff handed the paper to the judge. He read it carefully and looked up. “Was this verdict a unanimous decision?”

  “It was, Your Honor.”

  “I would like to thank the jury for their service and diligence in this matter. It is no small thing to pass judgment on another person, especially in a case such as this. You should all be commended for your hard work and diligence.” He turned away from them and toward David. “Would the defendant please rise?”

  David rose slowly from his seat. His hands were shaking.

  “On the first count of murder in the second degree how do you find the defendant?”

  “Not guilty.”

  “On the second count of rape in the first degree how do you find the defendant?”

  “Not guilty.”

  A rush of sound rippled through out the courtroom and the judge pounded his gavel.

  Anthony Vine stood up. “Not guilty? Not guilty?”

  One by one the jurors were polled. Each one said in turn the same thing: not guilty.

  Deputies started to swarm toward Vine, but his people hustled him back into his seat. The man who had whispered into his ear earlier was now forcibly holding him down. Vine’s face was red and orange at the same time. One of the deputies said something inaudible to Joe Wheeler. He nodded and the five men Anthony Vine came with got him out of his seat and removed him from the courtroom.

  David’s mother broke into sobs as Violanti hugged him tight. All around them flashes popped off.

  The judge kept talking, but no one was listening, the courtroom was lit up like a Christmas tree. The last thing Lauren made out clearly was Judge O’Keefe telling David he was free to go.

  Free to go.

  Now David was hugging his mother as she cried, leaning over the waist-high divider. Her shoulders heaved up and down as she clutched at him, like a castaway saved from a sinking rowboat. He was smiling. Happy. They did it. He won.

  Lauren sat like a stone. She couldn’t move. She could barely breathe.

  The reporters started to crowd around, microphones extended, looking for sound bites. Lauren pushed the microphones out of her face. Reese grabbed her arm. “No comment. No comment!” he said, over and over as he pushed a path through the parasites, pulling Lauren along with him out of the courtroom into the hallway towards the elevators.

  She passed a distraught Anthony Vine sobbing against the wall, while his friends tried to shield him from the media. They were trying to swarm him too, arms outstretched, yelling questions at him, snapping pictures. Joe Wheeler was nowhere to be seen. With the verdict came the taint of suspicion on Anthony Vine. The reasonable doubt of David Spencer’s guilt meant that they had cast a reasonable doubt on Anthony Vine’s innocence. Joe had jumped ship right away, like others were sure to do. Maybe Anthony Vine really was a broken man, now that all his dirty little secrets had been exposed for the world to pass judgment on. But Lauren couldn’t be concerned with that now.

  She just wanted to remove herself from the building. From this side show that had taken over her life and destroyed so many others. The elevator’s door slid open and Reese pulled her inside, stabbing the close button, sending them to the lobby.

  Maybe it was her imagination, but when Reese was leading her out, she thought she heard David call after her. Call her by name.

  84

  The day after the verdict Lauren walked into Frank Violanti’s office for the last time. She looked tired and drawn. He was sitting at his desk, still surrounded by his self-made memorial, but instead of his cocky winner-take-all attitude, he was visibly subdued. She hadn’t called, but she could tell he had been expecting her.

  She unceremoniously dumped all her files pertaining to David Spencer on his floor. White paper fluttered out and swirled around her ankles.

  If she thought he’d react with anger, she was wrong. He merely looked at the mess she’d just made and said softly, “We don’t know that David killed that girl. Her body was too decomposed to even give a cause of death. They haven’t even identified t
he body yet.”

  “We don’t know that he didn’t kill Katherine Vine. We just stirred up some reasonable doubt.”

  “Then we did the right thing,” he countered. “That was our job, Lauren.”

  That underlying truth stung more than any insult he could have hurled at her. “I can’t help you anymore. If the State Police charge David, don’t call me.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it. And they won’t be able to charge him. He didn’t do it.”

  She studied his face. “You really believe that?”

  He hesitated a second too long. “I have to, he’s my client.”

  “That’s no answer.”

  “It’s the only one I got.”

  There was a long silence as the two faced off against each other. Seagull after seagull flew past Violanti’s head, framed by the giant picture window. His hair still spiked up, his suit still looking like it came from his father’s closet. Nothing had changed.

  “We uncovered a boatload of evidence that points directly at Anthony Vine. He had motive, opportunity, and now no alibi. How can we just discount that? How can you? Because David gave you the creeps one day?”

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  What Lauren knew was that they’d be back on opposite ends of the courtroom, but she wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go after her again like he used to. Now he knew she was a true believer. He was not. He played the game and played it well. The fundamental difference between the two of them was never more clear or disturbing to her. Lauren Riley wanted justice; Frank Violanti wanted results.

  Lauren looked him dead in the eye. “I’ll never stop watching David Spencer. If he did this, he’s only just getting started. And when the time comes, I will be the one that takes him down.”