Doubt (Caroline Auden Book 1) (32 page)

“Operator,” Caroline said into the phone. She didn’t have time for automated menus.

“I’m sorry, we did not understand your selection,” the voice responded in Caroline’s ear. “Please dial one if you are complaining about violation of a noise ordinance. Please dial two if you are calling about vehicle impoundment. Please dial three—”

After a few more minutes of trying to navigate to a live operator, Caroline hung up.

She turned to Annie and Freddie. “I think we’re on our own.”

“But how can we get in with those guys out there?” Annie asked, a tremor in her voice betraying her fear.

“I don’t know yet,” Caroline said, lifting the binoculars to her eyes.

The three creeps were on a tight rotation. With staggered, overlapping beats, they were keeping the doors within a half dozen strides at all times. Caroline saw no way that she and Annie could slip past them unnoticed. And running straight at the doors was suicide.

“Whatever you’re going to do, you need to do it soon,” Freddie said from beside her. “That hearing’s gonna start soon.”

Caroline looked down at her watch. Damn it. They were running out of time.

Turning her eyes back to the courthouse, she noticed a flock of new arrivals to the sidewalk. The first of the many tour groups she recalled from her last visit had appeared at the foot of the courthouse steps. Holding matching magenta satchels with their tour group’s logo emblazoned on them, the cluster of people moved across the sidewalk like an amoeba, the edges blurring as tourists stepped out of the clump to shoot pictures of the austere building.

The tourists obscured Caroline’s view of the doors and of the three men casing the doors. Exhaling in annoyance, Caroline waited for them to move out of the way so she could see if there was a line at the metal detector.

Suddenly, her annoyance was replaced by hope as an idea occurred to her.

“I know what to do,” she said.

“Free arancini!” Freddie called, standing on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, holding pieces of paper out to passersby.

The yellow sheets from the legal pad weren’t professional fliers, but Caroline hoped they’d work well enough. She couldn’t hear Freddie’s voice from the lunch truck, but she knew he was trying hard to hustle business.

She glanced at her watch. The hearing would start in ten minutes. Not good. She hoped Freddie was as good at salesmanship as he was at surveillance.

As Caroline watched, Freddie accosted a tour group wearing neon-orange baseball hats. Waving his arms around, gesturing toward the truck, he finally coaxed some interest from them. En masse, they veered from their regularly scheduled architectural tour across the street toward the parking lot where the lunch trucks were parked.

“Here we go,” Caroline said to Annie. “Get those arancini out of the oil.”

Annie pulled the rice balls from the fryer and spread them on sheets of paper towel to dry. A long apron covered her tweed slacks and collared shirt. Meanwhile, Caroline prepared a row of paper dishes, waiting to be plated. Once everything was ready, she turned to the service window in time to see Freddie jogging ahead of the tour group like an overweight pied piper.

He climbed in the back door of the truck then stepped up to the window just as the first wave of neon-orange-hatted tourists reached it.

“Welcome to New York!” he said. “What you’ve got here is a real local delicacy, just like my nonna used to make!” He reached for the first batch of arancini. “Who wants some?”

Several hands reached for the plates.

Freddie held them away, toying with the crowd.

“These here are the best arancini this side of the Atlantic. I’m not parting with them lightly,” he said. A grumble went up from the crowd. “Just kidding!” He handed them out to smiles and cheers, then reached back for some more.

Frying arancini and plating them as fast as she was able, Caroline mopped her brow of the sweat from the heat and the hot oil. She hoped her suit wasn’t getting too trashed. She also hoped that Freddie would get on with the plan quickly. They didn’t have time for grandstanding.

“Let’s play a game,” Freddie said to the delighted crowd. “Whoever can guess the combination of meat in my nonna’s ragù gets a free tiramisu!”

The tourists clustered closer to the window. The ones in front shouted guesses, everything from lamb chops to dog food.

Freddie groaned with the joking suggestions and pretended to ponder the serious one. Finally, he pointed to the back of the crowd.

“The guy in the Hawaiian shirt wins!” He handed a plate of dessert to the tourist. Then he held up his hands to quiet the crowd again.

“You guys are great. I wish I could keep you here wit’ me all day,” Freddie said. “Or, hey, maybe I wish I was on your tour. I know, maybe you could let me have one of those hats? You know, like as a souvenir of our time here together wit’ you all.” He looked down and patted his chest like he was getting emotional. “I’ll tell ya what, I’ll give out a free batch of lasagna and a drink to anyone that’ll give me their hat.”

The tourists crowding the window pressed closer, some holding hats out. It reminded Caroline of the pictures she’d seen of the New York Stock Exchange.

Freddie grabbed the two closest to him and passed them over to Annie and Caroline. With his other hand, he handed the winning tourists plates of lasagna.

Donning the hat, Caroline made a mental note. If she survived the day, she promised to tell Judi that her younger son was, in fact, highly talented. A total rock star, in fact.

Soon, the fun ended, and the tour group departed.

With two new members.

CHAPTER 18

The courthouse doors were only feet away, but they were far out of reach. Tucked in the center of the tour group, Caroline watched in silent terror as the man in green Converse shoes approached from the opposite direction, scanning faces of everyone on the sidewalk.

Caroline turned toward the building, suddenly enthralled by the overwrought pillars. Beside her, Annie pulled her neon-orange baseball hat down low over her forehead.

Holding her breath, Caroline watched in her peripheral vision as Green Converse came parallel with her before continuing past. When he disappeared around the corner, she exhaled and resettled the bag slung over her shoulder. Freddie had conjured the bag from the tour group so she wouldn’t stand out. She’d stuffed her suit jacket inside, but in her dress pants and pumps, she still felt as vulnerable as a roofer in a hurricane.

She chanced another look at the doors. A line of people stretched beyond the threshold out onto the sidewalk. A line attesting to the backup at the security checkpoint. A line standing between Caroline and the safety of the courthouse lobby.

Caroline commanded herself to patience. They’d be inside soon. They’d be surrounded by court staff. They’d be within earshot of marshals.

But if they got caught before they cleared the doors, it would be over.

She and Annie would get only one shot. They needed to get it right.

Still, her stomach knotted with repressed urgency. The hearing had started already. Louis would be wondering where she was. Eddie, too.

She knew Eddie could handle the examination of the first few scientists. He’d helped her to prepare the witness notes, after all. He knew what questions to ask.

But she was supposed to be in there . . . instead of out here, trapped in a gaggle of neon-clad tourists.

Scanning the sidewalk, she looked for some sign of the thugs she knew couldn’t be far away. Even though she didn’t see anyone suspicious, she knew they were near. Somewhere just around the corner. Or across the street. Maybe even watching the tour group.

The guide began walking again, and Caroline followed, vaguely aware of him describing late Empire architecture in painstaking, monotonous detail. Her mind screamed at her to get inside the courthouse. They were running out of time. The questioning of the witnesses wouldn’t go on forever, and she had the only scientist that mattered with her.

When the group pulled abreast of the doors, she saw that the line at the metal detector had all but disappeared.

It was time to go.

“Come on,” Caroline whispered to Annie.

She broke from the crowd and walked toward the doors as quickly as she could without drawing attention.

Up ahead, dimly seen through the doorway, the marshal ushered a teenage boy through the metal detector. They were almost there.

Stepping into the marble foyer, Caroline placed her tour bag on the metal detector’s conveyor belt. Then she waited for the marshal to wave her through. The seconds ticked by in a slow trickle, in danger courted by immobility. Until she passed the security checkpoint, her progress could be stopped by the cool muzzle of a gun pressed up against her back.

At the front of the security line, a woman fumbled with the zipper of her purse, stalling the progress of everyone behind her.

Caroline resisted the urge to push forward. Her heart slammed in her chest, propelling blood past her ears in a thunderous whoosh that drowned out all sounds, turning the ambient conversations in the line to murmurs.

A crack behind her made her freeze. Every shred of her awareness bent back, seeking danger. The skin on her shoulders itched, stretching out for contact, seeking awareness of what was behind her.

Unable to resist, she glanced over her shoulder.

A lawyer wrestled a heavy document case from the white plastic table to the metal rollers in front of the conveyor belt. Behind him, bored faces looked back at her, each borne by another soul waiting to enter the courthouse.

Still, Caroline didn’t relax.

In her pocket, she gripped her worry beads. She forced her attention to their cool roundness, the tactile sensation providing her with sensory input beyond the flood of cortisol that kept her brain locked in a spiral of terror.

Finally, the marshal waved a weary hand, and Caroline stepped under the archway, saying a silent prayer that nothing she wore would trigger the metal detector’s sensors.

The light on the archway stayed green.

The marshal stepped aside so she could pass.

As soon as the conveyor belt coughed up her bag, Caroline yanked out her suit jacket. The navy blazer was wrinkled and smelled of cooking grease, but it would do. She shoved the tour bag into a trash can and stepped aside to make room for those behind her to pass.

Without fanfare or delay, Annie followed through the metal detector.

Watching the scientist pass the security checkpoint, Caroline allowed herself a moment of celebration. They’d made it past the doors. They were inside.

Now they had just one final leg of their long journey: the short trip to the courtroom.

With Annie behind her, Caroline hurried into the lobby to put as much space between the doors and herself as she could. The green marble rotunda echoed with voices. Wan light filtered down from the high windows, dingy and unwashed. Straight ahead, the down escalator carried people to ground level, allowing those whose business was done to exit the courthouse.

Malachite-toned pillars rose on both sides of the escalator, holding a stone arch upon which someone had chiseled, “He who seeks equity must do equity.”

Caroline looked forward to traveling the down escalator after the hearing, but right now, she needed to go up.

“The
SuperSoy
courtroom is on the second floor,” Caroline called over her shoulder, ducking down the corridor she knew would take them to the up escalator quickly.

“Where are we going?” Annie asked, speaking up to be heard over the cacophony of footfalls and voices.

“The up escalator’s on the other side of the building.” Caroline maneuvered down the hallway she knew led from one side of the courthouse to the other. Unlike the bustling main lobby, the hallway was uncrowded, so they could travel faster.

Caroline increased her pace until she was jogging.

She heard Annie matching her pace behind her.

Suddenly, she spotted two men running toward them from the far end of the hallway.

For half a second, she believed they had nothing to do with her. Until she recognized the taller of the two. The pale man from the airport shuttle.

Her breath caught, and her fingers tingled with a rush of adrenaline.

They’d been found.

She cast around for a marshal, but there was no one around.

She grabbed Annie’s hand and spun around 180 degrees, back toward the direction they’d come.

Sprinting down the hall, her footfalls sounded frantic in her ears. Above the sound, reverberating all around her, was the louder sound of the two men tearing toward them at full speed.

She needed to do something. Anything.

Ahead, she saw the light of the green marble rotunda. If they could reach it, they could call for help.

With a stab of desperation, she realized they’d never make it. Though she couldn’t see her pursuers, she could feel them bearing down, fast. They’d be upon her in seconds.

Suddenly, an image from a cartoon flashed through her mind. Lord knew if it would work, but she didn’t have a better idea.

Caroline yanked the strand of beads out of her pocket. She tore the end that bound them and threw the ruined strand behind her. The beads clattered to the floor in a smattering of staccato taps, a sound followed by a yelp and a crash as one of the men giving chase fell to the ground.

Without breaking stride, Caroline pulled Annie toward the end of the hallway, where it opened onto the grand green-marbled lobby. Then she sprinted toward the down escalator carrying people from the second floor to the first.

When she hit the lowest step, she lunged onto the escalator, crashing into the descending people.

“Excuse me. Pardon me,” she said, pushing her way up, like a salmon swimming upstream. Lawyers and judges and litigants grumbled and griped and shouldered her in complaint, but Caroline pressed ahead, forcing her small frame to act like the prow of a ship crashing through waves.

Behind her, Annie struggled to keep up, her even smaller body buffeted by the flow of people pressing down toward the lobby below.

As she fought her way to the top, Caroline hoped her recollection of the courthouse’s layout was correct—that the
SuperSoy
courtroom would be located at the top of the down escalator. And she hoped that their arrival, coming up the down escalator, would surprise the thugs she knew had to be waiting for them on the second floor.

When she reached the top of the escalator, Caroline pushed off the railing and spun around, ready to face any assailants. At the far end of the hallway, near the top of the up escalator, she saw a man standing, his eyes focused with intensity on those disembarking.

He swung around to face her, and his mouth shaped into an O before he began running toward her.

But Caroline knew that she and Annie had a head start.

She sprinted toward the door of the courtroom and threw open the door.

The courtroom’s door shut behind Caroline with a too-loud click and everyone turned to see the cause of the disruption. On the defense side, Kennedy’s forehead furrowed like a wrinkled sheet. His eyes flicked back and forth from Caroline to Annie. The corners of his mouth stretched downward in a grimace resembling pain.

Checkmate, Caroline thought with glee. Kennedy had tried to stop her, but he’d failed. And now there was nothing he could do. As if to prove that to herself, she guided Annie up the aisle, away from the door, toward the greater safety of the front row of the gallery.

Along the back walls, onlookers lined the edges of the courtroom. The families of SuperSoy victims, alerted to the hearing date by the Plaintiffs’ Steering Committee’s Listserv and Facebook page. There to watch. To witness. To wait for justice.

Behind her, she heard the door of the courtroom click open again. Her pursuers had arrived. But they, too, could do nothing. Like their boss, Kennedy, they had become mere spectators to what would happen next. They’d lost control over their quarry.

On the plaintiffs’ side of the courtroom, the Steering Committee’s members were a tableau of barely restrained jubilation. Dale smiled with his too-big mouth. Anton Callisto’s usually stony face held sublime joy. Next to him, Louis’s white eyebrows arched in surprise, the senior partner stunned into an apparent uncharacteristic shock.

Caroline nodded back at him. Yes, this is Annie, she wanted to shout. I did it—I brought her to court in time.

Louis got the message. He smiled a small, knowing grin before turning back around to watch the proceedings.

At the front of the courtroom, Dr. Ambrose sat in the witness box, his ill-fitting suit wrinkled and stained, his thin hair combed from one ear over to the other.

Eddie Diaz stood before him in a navy-blue suit and orange silk tie.

Caroline exhaled with relief. Just as she’d hoped, Eddie was filling in for her. He knew the witness examination notes as well as she did. Perhaps even better, since he’d finished polishing them while she’d been out chasing Dr. Wong.

Caroline sat back to watch.

“Thanks for traveling so far to be here with us, Dr. Ambrose,” Eddie said, smiling affably.

“My pleasure,” Dr. Ambrose answered in a thin, wheezy voice. “I’ve enjoyed listening to my colleagues testify.”

Glancing at the clock, Caroline noted the time. The first few witnesses hadn’t taken long, apparently. She was glad she’d hear Ambrose’s testimony, at least.

“As I understand the finding of your research, you’ve concluded that SuperSoy can cause mitochondrial degradation in rats, correct?” Eddie asked.

“Yes,” the scientist confirmed.

“Is this degradation unique to rat mitochondria?” Eddie asked.

“I’ve only studied rats, so I can’t speak to anything but rats,” Dr. Ambrose answered before launching into an exegesis about the unique architecture of rat mitochondria.

As Dr. Ambrose droned on, Caroline waited for Eddie to steer the scientist back to the point. While rat anatomy was vaguely pertinent, it certainly wasn’t the point of the examination.

But instead of interrupting, Eddie put his elbow on the wooden divider separating the witness box from the courtroom and listened attentively to Dr. Ambrose.

Caroline’s brow wrinkled. What was Eddie doing?

The examination notes required Eddie to be pushing Dr. Ambrose to draw the conclusions that logically flowed from his research on rats. Rat mitochondria weren’t so different from human mitochondria. Ambrose would concede that was so if asked about the relevant organelles. But Eddie wasn’t asking the right questions. Heck, he wasn’t asking
any
questions.

At the back of the courtroom, the clock on the wall ticked loudly, competing with the wheezing voice of the ancient scientist.