Just Take My Heart (4 page)

By the end of the week before the trial was to begin, Emily was cautiously optimistic that the case preparation had gone well. The summer had disappeared in a blur. In July, she had managed to take a week's vacation to visit her father and his wife, Joan, in Florida and then had spent five days in August with her brother Jack and his fam-ily in California.

It had been wonderful to see all of them, but always in the back of her mind her thoughts had been pulling her back to the case. During July and August she had meticulously interviewed the eighteen witnesses she would call and had their testimony virtually committed to memory.

The intensity of the preparation had also been a turning point in her adjustment to Mark's death. Though she still very much missed him, she no longer tortured herself a dozen times a day with the phrase that had been consuming so much of her energy, "If only he had lived, if only he had lived . . ."

Instead, as she met with the prospective witnesses, the face of Gregg Aldrich permeated her consciousness now. It was especially present when Natalie's friends related how distressed Natalie would become when, after a lunch or dinner, she would check her cell phone messages and invariably find at least one call or text from Gregg beseeching her to give their marriage another chance.

"I saw her burst into tears on a number of occasions," Lisa Kent, a longtime close friend, said angrily. "She cared very much for him, more than that, I'm sure she loved him. It was the marriage that just didn't work. She had hoped that she could keep him as her agent, but she realized pretty quickly that he was much too emotional about her for them to see each other and be in touch all the time, even if it was only on a business basis."

Emily knew that Kent would make a good witness.

Late Friday afternoon, three days before the trial was to start, Ted Wesley called her to his office. From the moment she saw him, she could tell that he was elated.

"Close the door," he said. "I have something to tell you."

"Let me guess," Emily said, "you've heard from Washington!"

"About fifteen minutes ago. You're the first one in the office that I'm telling. The president is going to announce tomorrow that he is nominating me to be the new attorney general."

"Ted, that's wonderful. What an honor! And no one deserves it more than you do." She felt genuinely happy for him.

"I'm not going anywhere too fast. The Senate confirmation hearings will be scheduled in the next few weeks. I'm kind of glad it's working out that way. I want to be around for the Aldrich trial. I want to see this guy go down."

"So do I. It's a stroke of luck that Easton can remember so many details from Gregg Aldrich's living room. Even with Easton's background, I don't see how Moore can explain that away."

"And you have that call from Aldrich's cell phone to Easton's cell phone. I don't know how Moore is going to get around that, either." Wesley leaned back in his chair. "Emily, you must know there was some unhappiness in this office when I gave you this case. I did it because I think you're ready for it and I know you can pull this case together for the jury."

Emily's smile was rueful. "If you can only tell me how I can transform Jimmy Easton from looking like the creep that he is to a credible witness, I'd be eternally gratified. We bought a dark blue suit for him to wear when he testifies, but we both know he's going to look like a fish out of water in it. I told you that when I spoke to Jimmy at the jail, I realized that, mercifully, the shoe polish color in his hair was fading, but it didn't improve his appearance one bit."

Wesley was frowning thoughtfully. "Emily, I don't care what Easton looks like. You have Aldrich's cell phone call to him, and you have his description of the living room. Even if he comes across lousy, they can't change those two facts."

"Then why is Moore taking this to trial? They have never wanted to negotiate any kind of plea, even after Easton came into the picture. I just don't know where they're going with this, and whether or not Easton can stand up to Moore's crossexamination."

"We'll soon find out," Wesley said, his tone now mild.

Emily perceived the difference in his voice and felt that she could read his mind. He's getting nervous that Aldrich will be acquitted, she thought. That won't be just a failure for me. It will be considered a failure in judgment on his part that he gave me this case. That won't be the greatest way to start off his Senate confirmation hearings.

After once again congratulating Wesley on his nomination, Emily went home. But early in the morning she was back in her office reviewing her trial notes and ended up spending most of her waking hours there over the weekend.

Thank God for Zach, she thought several times during those days. She recalled how reluctant she had initially been to have any more than a passing acquaintance with him and how relieved and grateful she was now that he had been feeding and walking Bess. He'd even done it while she was on her brief vacations, insisting there was no need to put Bess in a kennel.

"We've become pals," Zach had said in his shy, diffident manner. "She'll be safe on my watch."

But, on Sunday night, when Emily returned home at ten p.m., she found it disturbing that Zach was sitting in the porch room with Bess on his lap and watching television.

"Just keeping each other company," Zach explained, smiling. "Guess you went out to dinner with some friends."

Emily was about to reply that knowing that she would be working late, she had brought a sandwich and fruit to the office, but then she stopped herself. She did not owe Zach any explanations. At that mo-ment, she became acutely aware that Zach, in his isolation, though he probably didn't realize it, was becoming focused not only on Bess, but on her.

It was a creepy feeling, and for a moment it made her shudder.

On the Sunday night before the trial, Richard Moore and his son Cole, who had assisted in preparing the defense, had dinner with Gregg Aldrich and Katie in the dining club in Gregg's apartment building. They had arranged for one of the small private rooms so they could speak openly, and at the same time shield Gregg from the curious gaze of other diners.

Moore, an adept raconteur, was able to coax smiles and even a few chuckles from Gregg and Katie as the salads and entrees were being served. It was a visibly relaxed Katie who stood up and excused herself before dessert. "I promised Dad that if he let

me stay during the trial I would keep up with the assignments they sent me. I'm starting right now."

"What a strong and mature kid she is," Moore said to Aldrich after Katie left. "You've done a great job with her."

"She continues to amaze me," Aldrich said quietly. "She told me that she wouldn't stay for dessert because she was sure we'd want to have some last-minute discussions. I assume that she was correct?"

Richard Moore looked across the table at his client. In the six months since he had been indicted, Gregg had aged ten years. He had lost weight and even though his face was still handsome, he looked weary and there were deep circles under his eyes.

Cole, a younger version of Richard, had immersed himself in this case, and had expressed to his father how concerned he was about the outcome of the case. "Dad, he's got to understand that it's in his best interest to consider a plea. Why do you think he's never allowed us to negotiate with the prosecutor?"

That was a question that Richard Moore had pondered frequently, and he thought he might have the answer. Gregg Aldrich needed to convince not only the jury, but himself that he was innocent. Only once had Gregg referred to the fact that he was surprised, even shocked, to have come home on the morning of Natalie's death and realize he had been jogging for over two hours. It was almost as if he was questioning himself, Moore recalled. Was it because he was in such denial that he had killed her that his mind had shielded him from the memory? It wouldn't be the first time I've seen that, he thought. And Cole and I have privately agreed that he very probably did kill Natalie ...

The waiter came to the table. All three ordered espresso and skipped dessert. Then Richard Moore cleared his throat. "Gregg," he said softly, "I wouldn't be doing my best for you if I didn't raise this topic again. I know that you have never wanted us to have any plea discussions with the prosecutor's office, but it's probably not too late to ask them to consider it. You are facing the rest of your life in prison. But I honestly think that they're nervous about this case, too. I really believe that I could get them to consider a twenty-year sentence. It's a long time, but you would be out in your early sixties and still have a lot of years left."

"Twenty years!" Gregg Aldrich snapped. "Only twenty years. Why don't we call them right now? If we wait they might not offer such a good deal."

His voice was rising. He slammed down his napkin, and then as the waiter came back into the room, made a visible effort to calm himself. When the waiter was gone again, he looked from Richard to Cole and then back to Richard. "Here the three of us sit in our designer suits, in a private dining room of a Park Avenue apartment building, and you are suggesting to me that to save myself from dying in prison, I spend the next twenty years of my life there. And that's if they're bighearted enough to agree to that."

He picked up his cup and drank the espresso in one gulp. "Richard, I am going to trial. I am not going to abandon my daughter. And there's one other little fact that I should mention: I loved Natalie! There is no way on God's earth that I could ever have done this to her. And as I have made clear to you, I intend to testify. Now, if both of you will excuse me, I'm going to try to get some sleep. I'll be at your office at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, then we'll present ourselves in court. As a team, I hope."

The Moores looked at each other, then Richard spoke. "Gregg, I will not raise this topic again. We will give them hell. And I promise you, I will savage Easton."

On September 15th, the trial of the State of New Jersey versus Gregg Aldrich began. Presiding was the Honorable Calvin Stevens, a longtime veteran of the criminal bench, the first African-American appointed to the Bergen County Superior Court, and considered to be a tough but fair jurist.

As the jury selection was about to begin, Emily looked over at Aldrich and his attorney Richard Moore. As she had thought many times during the preparation of this case, Aldrich had picked the right guy to represent him. Moore was a lean, handsome man in his midsixties with a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. Impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit, light blue shirt, and patterned blue tie, he exuded an air of quiet confidence. Emily knew he was the kind of attorney who would exhibit a friendly and respectful demeanor to-ward the jurors, and that they would like him.

She also knew that he would exhibit the same demeanor toward the witnesses who really didn't hurt his client, and save his rapier attacks for the ones who did. She was fully aware of his record of success in cases where the state had been forced, as she would be shortly, to call as a witness a career criminal like Jimmy Easton, who would claim that the defendant had solicited him to commit the crime.

Sitting next to Moore was his son and associate Cole Moore, whom she knew well and liked. Cole had spent four years as an assistant prosecutor in her office before going to work for his father five years ago. He was a good lawyer and, together with his father, would present a formidable defense team.

Aldrich was sitting on the other side of Richard Moore. Facing life in prison, he had to be terrified, but outwardly he appeared calm and poised. At forty-two, he was one of the top theatrical agents in the business. Noted for his quick wit and charm, it was easy to see why Natalie Raines had fallen in love with him initially. Emily knew he had a fourteen-year-old daughter from his first marriage, who lived with him in New York City. The girl's mother had died young and their investigation had shown that he had hoped and expected that Natalie would be a second mother to her. That had been one of the reasons for the breakup, according to Natalie's friends. Even they had admitted that for Natalie, nothing was more important than her career.

They'll make good witnesses, Emily thought. They'll show the jury how angry and frustrated Aldrich was before he snapped and killed her.

Jimmy Easton. He was going to make or break her case. Fortunately there would be some corroboration of his testimony. Several credible witnesses would be called to testify that they had seen him with Aldrich at a bar two weeks before Natalie Raines was murdered. Even better than that, Emily reflected again, Easton had accurately described the living room of Aldrich's New York apartment. Let Moore get around that, Emily reassured herself again.

But it was still going to be a tough road to a conviction. The judge had addressed the jurors and informed them that the case involved a murder charge and that including jury selection and allowing for jury deliberation, the trial would probably take about four weeks.

Emily looked over her right shoulder. There were several reporters in the front row of the courtroom, and she was aware that there had been television cameras and photographers filming Aldrich and his attorneys as they entered the courthouse. She also knew that once the jury was impaneled and she and Moore were giving their opening statements, the courtroom would be packed. The judge had ruled that the trial could be televised, and Michael Gordon, the anchor of the cable show Courtside, was planning to cover it.

She swallowed to combat the sudden dryness in her throat. She had over twenty jury trials under her belt and had won most of them, but this was by far the highest-profile case in which she had ever been involved. Again she warned herself: This is no slam dunk.

The first potential juror, a grandmotherly lady in her late sixties, was being questioned at the bench. The judge asked her out of the hearing of the rest of the panel if she had formed any opinion about the defendant.

"Well, Your Honor, since you're asking me, and since I'm an honest person, I think he's guilty as sin."

Moore didn't have to say anything. Judge Stevens did it for him. Politely but firmly, he told the obviously disappointed juror that she was dismissed.