Betrayal of Justice Page 17

  Micah found the address and pulled the MKZ into the driveway of a modest bungalow with a large front porch. On the porch were some old patio furniture and a swinging couch. Micah parked in the driveway and walked up the steps to the porch.

  “Hi.” Jessica chirped.

  Micah jumped. She was sitting in the shadows and scared the shit out of him.

  “Did I scare you?” Jessica purred.

  “Uh, n-no,” Micah lied.

  “Yes, I did,” she teased. “A trained investigator can’t sense someone is sitting in the shadows?”

  “I knew you were there,” Micah contended.

  “Sure you did,” she laughed. “That’s why you’re white as a sheet. You just about crapped your pants! So how goes your real estate research?”

  “It’s going fine,” Micah recovered his wits.

  He gazed at her, trying to focus in the dark. She had this silly, self-satisfied, smirk on her face. The cat had swallowed the canary and Micah knew he was the canary. He flushed when he suddenly realized Jessica referred to him as a ‘trained investigator.’ He couldn’t believe she unmasked him. He felt violated and embarrassed like he suddenly discovered his fly was open.

  “How did you . . .?”

  “Easy-peasy. You look like the big-city type. The nearest big cities to Berea are Cleveland and Toledo. No Micah Love in Cleveland or Toledo. The next nearest big city is . . .”

  “Detroit.” Micah completed her sentence.

  “Bingo,” she taunted. “There’s only one Micah Love in the Detroit area, and he is the president of a large private investigating firm downtown,” she crowed.

  “Go on . . .” He was no longer embarrassed. He was impressed. He enjoyed her initiative in sniffing out the truth.

  “I called the number and asked for Micah Love,” she continued. “I got someone named Eden. Not too bright, is she?”

  No, but she’s got great tits, Micah smiled. “Whatever do you mean?” He teased.

  “Well, it would seem to me the activities of a hot-shot investigator should be discreet, no?”

  “Yes.”

  “When I asked to speak to you, do you know what Eden told me?” Jessica persisted.

  “No, but I’m sure I’m about to find out,” Micah grunted, rolling his eyes.

  “She claimed you weren’t in, but you’d be calling in for your messages.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I asked when you’d be in.”

  “What was her reply?” Micah played along. Jessica enjoyed the exercise, and Micah enjoyed her enjoyment.

  “Mr. Love is out of town on a case.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. Then I told her I was Jessica Klein, from Berea. Guess what she told me?” Jessica snickered.

  “I can’t guess.”

  “She got all excited. She likes you.” Jessica giggled.

  “Oh yeah, she loves me,” Micah sighed.

  “Well, anyway, she kind of gushes and says, ‘what a coincidence! Micah’s in Berea working on a case.’ Isn’t that wild?” She exclaimed.

  “Yeah, wild,” Micah grumbled, getting annoyed.

  “I say, ‘wow, that is a coincidence. I can talk to him about my case right here!’ I pretended to be excited to find out what a deceptive bastard you are.” Jessica snapped, suddenly angry.

  “Jessica—” Micah started to apologize.

  “So I requested your hotel room number and phone number, and guess what she does?”

  “What?”

  “She gives it to me! Can you believe it?” She chuckled.

  “Unbelievable.” Micah rolled his eyes.

  “After I hung up, I thought to myself, ‘Maybe there’s another Micah Love in the real estate business who happens to be in Berea at exactly the same time as the investigator Micah Love,’” she pretended to pretend.

  “But you decided against that possibility?” Micah guessed.

  “Yeah, I pretty much ruled that out. You’re a liar, you son of a bitch!” Jessica fumed. “You lie like a rug!” Seductive and sarcastic morphed into fury. Micah stepped back.

  “Jessica, come on. I’m in an unfamiliar town, on a case of major importance. The case is extremely sensitive and volatile. Can I trust anyone? I met you today. I’ve got a client to protect. I’m suspicious of everyone I talk to. It’s the nature of my business. Please understand. I couldn’t tell you why I needed those names and addresses and I still can’t.” He pleaded.

  He sat down next to her and picked up her left hand, holding it in both of his. He gazed at her with pleading eyes.

  “Relationships must be honest. They should start with simple honesty and integrity,” she guilt-tripped.

  “Relationships? I thought we were having dinner,” Micah gasped.

  “Well, you never know . . .” She shot him a seductive look.

  Micah was getting aroused. “I’m sorry, then. I don’t want our relationship to get off on the wrong foot. You know the truth now. May I please take you to dinner?” He groveled.

  “Are you buying?” She purred.

  “Absolutely.” He assured.

  “Okay, let’s go. I know a quaint little place by the river . . .”

  Just like that, she returned to the seductive, effervescent Jessica he met that afternoon.

  ***

  While Jessica was chastising Micah, Zack arrived at Jennifer Tracey’s home to escort her to dinner for a second time. It was a beautiful early summer evening. The sun was high in the sky at 7:00 p.m., a benefit of daylight savings time. Jennifer was full of questions about the depositions. They drove down I-275 South toward Canton. Zack had lowered the convertible top on the Z4, and the wind howled around them.

  Jennifer chose her favorite Chinese restaurant in Canton on Ford Road. There was a theater nearby. They made plans to catch a late show if they finished dinner in time. Jennifer had to shout her questions over the wind. She finally decided to give up and wait until dinner. Zack pulled into and parked in the restaurant parking lot. He jumped out and hurried around to the other side to open her door, as was his habit. Jennifer smiled. Chivalry is not dead.

  The restaurant wasn’t crowded. A Chinese host smiled, bowed, and muttered something neither could understand. He escorted them to a booth, handed them open menus, and announced the specials. He left them momentarily and returned with water, hot tea, and dinner rolls, those delicious, hot ones that are only served at a Chinese restaurant. He hovered over them, eager to take their order.

  Jennifer and Zachary watched him leave, simultaneously turned toward each other, chuckled, and bowed slightly.

  “Nice place,” Zack looked around. “Great service. Do you come here often?”

  “Not often enough, the food is awesome.”

  “This isn’t exactly near your home. How did you discover it?”

  “My brother used to work for the company that owns the theater down the street. Jim and I used to take the boys to the movies for free. We . . . sort of . . . stumbled on this place.”

  “Zack glared at her, lost in thought.

  Is he listening to me? She decided to change the subject. “So, tell me, what happened today?”

  He came out of his trance and brought her up to speed. She was immediately sorry she changed the subject.

  “This is outrageous, Zack. Why would a religious institution need a secret police-type guy? Why would they have such a person on their payroll?”

  “Oh, I can see many legitimate reasons for his existence—bomb threats against churches, assassination attempts on high church officials, the security of clergy and parishioners in general. I guess this man and his organization were created for these legitimate reasons. They were logical choices when pedophilia began to surface in the priesthood. What, ultimately, seems to motivate everyone on the defense side, though, is preventing a public scandal. That’s why every offer we’ve received includes nondisclosure of settlement figures, a sealed court file, and a hushed-up crimi
nal conviction and plea bargain.”

  “That’s exactly why we can’t let that happen in our case. He’ll get transferred somewhere else and do this again. This must be public, Zack, to protect the kids, not only from Gerry but from who knows how many other sick priests who are doing this to kids,” she grumbled.

  “I hear you, Jennifer, but I also got a new offer from Walsh.” Zack brightened. “I’m duty-bound to convey it to you.”

  “Oh, what’s the offer?” She inquired, genuinely curious.

  “It includes all the privacy features I just mentioned,” he tested the waters.

  “Not acceptable,” she snapped.

  “They have offered five million dollars, Jen.” He dropped the bombshell.

  Jennifer was sipping her tea and almost choked on it.

  “Five million dollars? You’re kidding!” she exclaimed.

  “I’m not kidding. However, you’ll have to agree to drop the case, sign a nondisclosure agreement, and allow a non-public plea bargain.”

  “That’s an enormous amount of money!”

  “Yes, it is . . . ” he admitted, surprised she seemed to be considering it.

  “My boys and I—and you—would be set for life,” she speculated.

  “I don’t know about ‘set for life,’ but it’s a lot of money. Take me out of the equation. Worry about you and your boys.”

  “But it’s a lot of money for you too, and you’ve worked so hard and been through such difficult times . . .” she considered.

  “This decision is about you and the boys. You need to do what’s right for your family. Nothing else matters.” He meant it. This ‘new’ Blake surprised even him.

  The waiter returned with their meals, and they ate as they talked.

  “This is delicious, the best Chinese I’ve ever had.”

  “I told you so. Zack, what do you think I should do?”

  “Jenny, I can’t tell you what to do, but you keep saying you’re doing this for the boys,” he suggested.

  “I am doing it for the boys,” she insisted.

  “Well, do the boys benefit from this policy of nondisclosure?”

  “I-I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered, confused.

  “The church will pay you more for nondisclosure than they will if this case continues to be conducted in public. Further, they will probably start a public attack on you and the boys. Your decision to conduct these proceedings with maximum press coverage might cost you money and actually hurt you and your kids’ reputations. If this is about the best interest of your children, it may be best to move forward the way the church desires. I can probably get even more money.”

  She lowered her head and shook it, wistfully, from side to side. “It’s hush money, Zack. They wouldn’t be paying for the harm they caused. They’d be paying to shut me up.”

  “That’s true, but what the hell do you care? You and the boys will be set financially for life, and the boys will receive treatment for as long as necessary,” he emphasized. He had her attention.

  “It’s very tempting, Zack,” she ruminated. “But what happens with Gerry? He just transfers somewhere else and does this to someone else’s kids?” She stammered.

  “He would be in the hands of the church. You’d have to trust the church to get him help and place him in settings where he couldn’t harm children,” Zack reasoned. He knew where the conversation was headed.

  “But I can’t trust the church,” she concluded.

  “Why can’t you trust them? Do you think they want him to molest children?”

  “No, of course not,” she scowled.

  “What then?” He pressed.

  “You are convinced he’s done this before, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “If the church had control of his placement and could be trusted to get him the help he needed, why was he transferred to Lakes?”

  She’d make an excellent lawyer. “A mistake, probably. He slipped through the cracks somehow,” he reasoned.

  “Do you suspect his previous victims settled in the manner you describe?”

  “Yes,” Zack admitted. Jennifer would turn down this indecent amount of money and more, put her own kids through a public trial, to protect other kids from experiencing the trauma they suffered. Incredible!

  “Can we get some assurance that no mistakes will occur?”

  “I don’t see why not. I can try.” Why didn’t I think of that?

  “Try then. I also think it’s too early. I’d like to see more deposition testimony, perhaps this secret police guy. Let’s see where they lead. The money will still be there, and we don’t have to be extremely public about the depositions. I’ll give you my decision after that,” she concluded.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Zack assented, not enjoying the prospect.

  The waiter returned, took their plates, and brought back carryout bags and fortune cookies. Jennifer cracked open the cookie and pulled out her fortune. “You will find peace and riches beyond your dreams.” Jennifer laughed out loud as she showed the fortune to Zack.

  “Peace before riches, I hope,” she prayed.

  “Amen to that, but riches aren’t too bad,” Zack laughed.

  “That’s true. I could deal with riches,” she joked.

  “Let’s see what mine says.”

  “Okay.”

  “You open it,” he prompted, straining his neck to view the message.

  Jennifer cracked the cookie open, read the fortune, and smirked.

  “What does it say?” Zack squinted.

  “You will find success in your chosen profession,” Jennifer chuckled.

  Zack smiled. “From the fortune’s mouth to God’s ears.”

  He paid the bill and thanked and tipped the waiter. They left the restaurant together. The sun was setting beautifully, like a red rubber ball. Zack thought of the old song by The Cyrcle. They decided against the movie. The evening air was still warm, and they drove in silence with the top down to Jennifer’s house.

  ***

  As Zachary was driving Jennifer home from Canton to Farmington, Micah was paying the bill at Antonio’s, a small typically Italian restaurant with white stucco walls, hanging, empty wine bottles, and jammed-in tables with red-and-white checkerboard tablecloths covering them. The servers had to maze around, looking for an opening, to arrive at the table they needed to serve. Some of the waiters would break out in song when the violinist, whose job was to visit each table and inquire of and play patron requests, played one of their favorites. The ambiance was terrific and the food superb. Micah had underestimated Jessica. She was a woman of great taste, in food, at least.

  He hoped she was not as discriminating in seeking male companionship. She was out of his league. She’s gorgeous, perfect. What would she want with a schlump like me? Bald head, fat stomach, bad comb over. Micah found himself wishing he could be Channing Tatum or Chris Hemsworth, anyone with hair and a body, for just one night.

  “Was I right, or was I right?” Jessica gloated.

  “Absolutely delicious. The spiedini was the best I’ve ever tasted, even better than Maria’s, in my neck of the woods, and the veal was outstanding. Would you like coffee or dessert or an after-dinner drink?”

  “No, thanks. I’m stuffed. So, tell me, what’s this big case of yours about?”

  “I can’t tell you—it’s confidential,” Micah claimed.

  “Confidential, smonfidential,” she needled. “You’re discussing it with some people around town because you’re trying to locate their children. Parents won’t tell you a thing unless you tell them why you were asking.”

  “You’d be surprised what people will tell me. I’m very good at what I do,” Micah boasted.

  “I’ll bet you are. I’ll bet you’re good at many things. Now give! What’s this case about? Maybe I know something. Did you ever think of that? I could be a witness,” she insisted. She’d wait and pester all night, if necessary.

  “If I told you, I’d have to shoot yo
u,” he joked.

  “I look forward to that, as long as it’s blanks,” she purred.

  Micah’s pants stirred again.

  “Now give. What’s going down?”

  Was she really angry? Micah capitulated. Besides, maybe she knows something. She’d done a terrific job tracking Micah down.

  “I’m here on a child sexual abuse case,” he conceded.

  “Child abuse?” She was genuinely shocked. “Where? Who? MacLean? O’Connell?”

  “I don’t know yet. I think their kids are involved. The two families just picked up and left without even giving their families forwarding addresses and phone numbers. And the kids are the target age and sex.”

  Jessica looked perplexed. “I don’t get this at all. Why would an investigator from Detroit be interested in two domestic abuse cases in Ohio?”

  “Oh, no, you’ve got it all wrong. Not domestic abuse, clergy abuse,” Micah advised.

  “Clergy? At St. Pat’s?” Jessica was stupefied.

  “I believe it happened at St. Pat’s or St. Pat’s functions.”

  Jessica was miffed. “That’s ridiculous. Micah, you can’t march into a small town like Berea and make these kinds of accusations. Almost everyone in town belongs to that church,” she defended.

  “It’s not the church itself or anyone currently associated with it; it’s a priest who used to work there,” Micah expounded.

  “Who?” She demanded.

  “Gerry Bartholomew.”

  “Gerry fucking Bartholomew?” She was incredulous.

  “Yes, Gerry fucking Bartholomew.”

  She shook her head, astonished by the revelation. “But, . . . Gerry was a great guy and an even better priest. Most people around here wanted Foley to retire so Gerry could take over.”