Mercy (21 page)

However, the English had decided to teach the Highlanders a lesson. The Cam pbells, longtime enemies of the MacDonalds, were all too happy to do the ho nors for William of Orange. After staying at Glencoe, they arranged a massa cre in the early hours of the morning, shooting the MacDonald laird, biting the rings off his wife's fingers, and leaving her to die naked in the snow

.

In Glencoe, and in Carrymuir for that matter, it was still said that you shoul d never trust a Campbell.

Which was why, when Jamie MacDonald heard the name of the district attorn ey prosecuting his case, his knees gave out beneath him.

Audra Campbell, Assistant DA, stood in front of Martha Sully, the magistra te assigned to the preliminary hearing of the State of Massachusetts versu s James Reid MacDonald, and held up a picture

of a moon-white, lifeless body that was the very last thing Jamie wanted to s ee.

"Your Honor," she said, "we have the autopsy report on Margaret MacDonald; a signed confession from the defendant attesting to his role in her death

; Polaroid photos taken upon the arrest of the defendant by Police Chief C

ameron MacDonald that show signs of resistance by Margaret MacDonald to he r attacker; and various pieces of evidence that link the defendant to the scene of the crime." She raised her brows, as if to convey, Don't we all h ave somewhere else we'd rather be?

Graham shifted uncomfortably beside Jamie. He'd explained the procedure to him before arriving in court; Jamie had understood that they wouldn't be of fering any evidence of their own, because it would be subject to cross-exam ination. This isn't about your guilt or innocence, Graham had said. This is just a decision about whether or not to go to trial. And although Jamie ha d seemed to understand while sitting in the confines of Graham's Honda, it didn't explain why his client had taken one look at the prosecuting attorne y and had wilted as if he had seen a ghost.

Audra Campbell was a tiger lady, an attorney with an immense chip on her sh oulder that did nothing to soften her severely cut suits and her no-nonsens e clipped boy's haircut. She did not particularly care for most of the case s she tried in the Berkshire area, but she liked to win. She did not consid er defendants to be rapists and thieves and murderers as much as opponents to break down and send slinking away.

She moved in front of the wooden table set up for the prosecution and glance d at the people sitting in the back of the courtroom. "I have a witness here

, Your Honor, who would be prepared to verify that the defendant drove to th e Wheelock police station on the afternoon of September 19, 1993, and admitt ed in front of a crowd that he killed his wife. This same witness was the ar resting officer who took the defendant's signed confession. In addition, I h ave another witness who will testify that the defendant attacked him in fron t of the police station, and had to be brought under control." She glanced coolly at Graham MacPhee, who was too busy looking at the gat hered crowd to catch her eye. Zandy Monroe, the sergeant who would appare ntly be willing to testify to being as-145

saulted by Jamie, was sitting beside Cam, his head bent as Cam whispered something.

Graham wondered if Cameron MacDonald could do it. He wondered how he'd sle ep at night knowing he'd put his cousin in jail for what would most likely be the rest of his life.

Graham stared down at the yellow pad he'd brought to the preliminary heari ng. He'd drawn triangles and his own initials, but nothing else of import. With great deliberation, he wrote Cam's name and underlined it. Allie was off in Cummington getting key witnesses, but Graham knew that part of the defense strategy at Jamie's trial would be Cam. Graham pictured a cross-e xamination where he leaned against the witness box, casual as could be, an d asked Cam to explain the intricate family ties of the Wheelock MacDonald s. He imagined asking Cam to recite the Carrymuir chief's motto, the same words that graced the Wheelock town seal: Ex uno disce omnes--From one, ju dge of the rest.

If Cam testified that his cousin was a killer, what would that say about Cam himself?

Graham smiled. All he had to do was make the prosecution's star witness look the tiniest bit unsure of himself on the stand, couple that with Jamie's te stimony, and he'd be golden.

Now if only he could prepare a valid legal defense.

"Counselor," Martha Sully said, "do you have a response?" Graham felt Jamie stiffen at his side. He stood up and cleared his throat, smoothed his Brooks Brothers jacket over his pleated suit pants. "Your Hono r," he began, "while some of the contentions made by the prosecution are ac curate, my client would argue that he is not guilty for the following reaso n: Overcome by grief, he was simply not himself. At the time of Margaret Ma cDonalds death, James MacDonald was a victim of temporary insanity. We woul d be prepared to testify and present evidence to that effect at a trial." He sat down abruptly and Jamie looked up at him, an amused smile quirking across his face. Jamie leaned close to Graham, his breath hot upon his ear

. "Well," he whispered, "the ugly duckling becomes a swan after all." Graham raised one eyebrow. "You ain't seen nothing yet." Martha Sully looked down her nose at the people assembled in front of her. She slipped on her half-glasses and began to make

markings in the file that lay open on the podium. "The court finds that there is sufficient evidence to submit this case to a grand jury for further conside ration," she said, and she snapped the folder shut.

Audra Campbell began to stuff her papers and notebook back into her leather briefcase. She stood, ran her hands down the back of her skirt, and walked o ver to the defense table. "I'll be seeing you soon," she said to Graham, and then she glanced at Jamie, a feral smile slicing her face in two. "Mr. MacD

onald, I give no quarter."

Jamie looked her straight in the eye. "Well," he said evenly, "I'd expect no less from a Campbell.'

T7Hen MacDonald would not have scared the hell out of her if ' ?> Mia had been doing something ordinary, like pruning the bon-sais or making dish gardens, instead of writing Cam's name over and over on an order form.

"Hello," Ellen called, just inches away from Mia's shoulder, and she jumped a foot. Mia stood up and faced Cam's mother, whom she'd met briefly at the funeral, and slipped the paper she'd been dreaming on into the back pocket of her jeans.

"Mrs. MacDonald," Mia said, trying to smile. "Didn't Allie tell you she was going out of town?"

"Of course." Ellen walked over to the Mr. Coffee and poured herself a cup in a mug Allie usually used. "But she told me you'd be running the business, a nd that I should just stop by as usual and take what I want." Mia stared at her blankly. Take what you want?

Ellen crossed to the cooler and began to finger the herbs that Allie kept o n the right-hand side. "Fresh lemon balm and dried linden," she said, more to herself than to Mia. She stood up, frowning. "I know she's got them some where. She orders what I need every week."

Mia thought of the latest shipment Antonio had brought by, the strange twig s and leaves she hadn't recognized and had left for Allie on her desk. "Oh. You must mean these."

Ellen took the flowers into her hands, rubbing the petals with her fingers as i f to assess their frailty. "Wonderful," she said. "These are both supposed to do wonders when it comes to calming you down." Mia looked at the ugly little branches in Ellen's hands and raised an eyebrow.

"I like a little more color."

"Oh, no. I use them for medicine. I boil them up. Natural healing." She wave d the lemon balm in the air, so that several of the flower heads drifted tow ard the floor. "Allie's a godsend when it comes to organic ingredients." Mia wouldn't have expected any less. She smiled uncomfortably, not knowing i f she was supposed to do anything else, like offer Ellen MacDonald a teakett le to make her infusion, or pluck the petals off for her. Ellen did not say anything, but she didn't seem inclined to leave, either.

"So, you're Cam's mother," Mia said, realizing only after the words were o ut of her mouth how intimate they sounded.

"The very one." Ellen reached deep into a pocket and drew out several small po lished stones. "You seem a little piqued, dear," she said, rattling the stones in her palm like they were dice. When they fell, she began to sift through th em. "This is rhodonite, that's for calming--here, you take it--and this is ros e quartz, for love; and no, not this one, that's carnelian for sexuality . . . Ah!" With a flourish, she presented a tiny smooth green stone to Mia. "Aven-t urine. For tranquillity."

Mia touched all of the stones, scattered like bright marbles across Allie's d esk. "Do these really work?"

Ellen shrugged. "I suppose it depends on how much you want them to. When ol d Angus had a stroke the year after he moved to America and the consensus w as that he was going to die in a matter of days, I sewed malachite into the lining of his hospital gown. It's supposed to strengthen the heart, the ci rculation. Wouldn't you know it, he walked out of the hospital on his own t wo feet the next morning."

Mia's mouth dropped open. "That's amazing!"

Ellen smiled. "It probably was not so much the malachite as the fact that h e was a MacDonald," she admitted. "They're too stubborn to die until they'r e good and ready."

The swing of the door on its hinges sent Mia running to the front to greet a potential customer. Bent over the worktable, carefully arranging two paper plates and utensils, was Cam. "Hi." He

grinned when she came into the room. "Since it's in my best interests to kee p up your strength--"

"Cam," Mia said. "Guess who's here?"

Ellen walked out, her coat buttoned again, her hands clutching fistfuls of s tubby flowers. "Well. Two birds with one stone." Cam leaned down to kiss his mother on the cheek. "What are you doing her e?"

"Allie got me some linden," she said, holding it up for Cam to sniff. "I'm ma king a soporific today."

"Well, hell." Cam smiled, in too good a mood to take issue with his mother'

s crazy ideas. "Somebody has to."

Ellen glanced at the table, set cozily for two; at the calzones that Cam had purchased, leaking greasily through the bottom of the paper bag. She looked u p at her son. "Don't tell me you forgot Allie's gone."

"It's for Mia," Cam said smoothly. "Allie asked me to make sure she gets re gular meals."

For a moment Ellen could not put her finger on what was the matter. But th en she understood: Cam was feverish; he was burning up. He didn't seem to be acting sick, but she would have recognized anywhere the flame behind hi s eyes and the flush that worked up from his neck.

Ellen stared at her son, who was unwrapping something that looked like Parm esan cheese and whistling an old Scots lullaby. Then she looked at Mia, who se hands were moving restlessly at her sides. There was an amethyst in Elle n's pocket, which represented the strength of will, and she considered givi ng it to Cam, but realized this was something he'd have to discover himself

.

Then she thought of Allie, who was not there to bear witness; Allie with her back curved over Ellen's stove as she mixed beeswax and lanolin and what ha ve you. She thought of the time she, Ellen, had oversteeped a tincture, so t hat when Allie tried to rub it over her face as a restorative, it had dyed h er skin green. She thought of the way Allie had looked at her own wedding, h ow she'd stood in the receiving line clutching Cam's hand so tightly that sh e left behind faint bruises that lasted a week.

Ellen set down her flowers and unbuttoned her coat. She perched on one of the work stools and propped her elbows up in

front of a paper plate. "My," she said, smiling. "I hope there's enough there f or three."

The spare bedroom in Jamie and Maggie's house had been converted into a hom e office for Jamie, complete with a state-of-the-art computer system and vi rtual reality aids. Allie stepped into the room cautiously; computers made her nervous. She had taken an adult education course the year before which taught her how to inventory her stock and do billing on a computer system, but she'd never even seen some of the paraphernalia that littered Jamie's s tudy.

Strange geometric patterns were swirling on the screen, as if the user had stepped out to the bathroom and was planning on coming back in a moment. Th is, Allie had seen before--they were screen savers, or something like that; they were supposed to save energy when the computer was turned on but unoc cupied. It surprised Allie that Jamie hadn't thought to shut off the system before leaving with Maggie; then she realized other things had probably be en on his mind. Still, with Jamie away in Wheelock, the drain of electricit y would be costing him a fortune. Almost shyly, Allie sat down at the swive l chair and reached for the power switch on the computer. As soon as she stretched out her hand, the geometric patterns vanished an d a bright yellow ball blinked at her, like the flash of a camera. The ba ll skidded from left to right, leaving a string of letters behind. WELCOM

E, Allie read. PLEASE PUT ON GLOVE AND HMD.

Entranced by a computer that seemed to know just when she'd arrived, Allie reached for the glove. She slid her hand inside and wiggled her fingers, th en stared at the headpiece lying beside the computer. She had no idea what an HMD was, but this was the only other piece of equipment attached to the system. Gingerly she lifted the helmet and fit it over her head and eyes. She jumped. Instead of staring at a computer screen, she was in it. Allies peripheral vision, even when she swung her head back and forth, tevealed a simple cell with gray walls and aqua carpeting, like a doctor's waiting roo m. Words began to form inches from her face, trembling in the air like humm ingbirds. You have entered Northrup Architectural's Virtual Design System, Allie read. She stretched out her hand, allowing the letters to balance on her palm,

Jodi Picoult

delighted to discover they had weight and texture. Then, in smaller print

: Conceived and implemented by Techcellence, Inc., copyright 1993-Frownin g, Allie wondered about that. She would have expected Jamie to be working on something more current.