Fugitive

Chapter 30

I pretended to think for a moment. Reality is I'm a pretty open book. I don't have that many secrets. "Well this one time I cheated on an assignment. It was due the next day and I hadn't done it. I was busy with other things, and I'd forgotten about it. So, I googled essays and copied one straight from the web. It was so good my teacher sent it to a state competition and I won first place". Vanessa just stared at me and laughed. "That's a pretty petty secret". "I've never told anyone that! Though I think they would haven strongly suspected it after realised I couldn't replicate anything remotely similar". "I can't believe THAT is you're worst secret. I was expecting something really rebellious or crazy. Like you got a tattoo of Dwayne Johnson while high one weekend that no one else knows about". "Is that your secret"? I asked. She burst out laughing. "No"! "Well then. What is"? "Well... I once killed someone in cold blood", she was joking. Right after she'd said it she realised what she'd said. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I totally didn't mean it like that. That was really insensitive". I laughed at how sorry she was. "Oh please, it's fine. I think I can pretty much handle anything after being interrogated by those two baboons". Vanessa laughed. "They tried to talk to me too. They seemed to think I had some kind of connection, that I was helping you or something. I told them I wasn't but they just wouldn't leave it alone! It drove me half insane". "Tell me about it. That guard still out there"? Vanessa leaved back slightly to get a better view. "Yup, and there's others in the hallway too. They're keeping you under lock and key. It was hard enough to get in here. Oh, that reminds me. If they ask, I'm your lawyer okay"? I laughed. "You don't look like a lawyer". She mocked feeling insulted. "You don't think I would make a good lawyer"? I shook my head. "You're too nice to be a lawyer". She smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "How close are you to getting the evidence"? She changed topics quite suddenly. I looked over at her. I shouldn't be telling her so much. Somehow, I couldn't help it. "I have a bug in his car. So, pretty close. As long as he says what I need him to. "Well it's over now isn't it. They're going to take you to jail as soon as you are discharged and keep you there until the trial where you'll most likely be sent back to jail". "I love how high your hopes are for me", I replied sarcastically. She gave me a look. "Seriously though, what are you going to do". "I'll get out". "How? This place is pretty much on lock down. I was searched when I went to the bathroom". "Have a little faith Vanessa. Have a little faith".

After that we changed topic and Vanessa left a little while later. She had to catch up on her studies but she promised to come back later and cure my boredom. So once again I was left to my thoughts. Even after sleeping for two days I was tired. I was woken quite early the next day when the nurse came in, injected me with some painkillers or something and removed the tube from my lung, placing a bandage over the 'hole' I guess you could say. She told me I would be okay without it from now on but should be resting in hospital for another week or so at least. I still found it difficult to move. Even turning over was difficult. The handcuffs didn't help. I couldn't get up at all. There was a lot of bruising on my chest area. The scars from the surgery were covered by more bandages but would no doubt provide the means for a great story. Shark attack maybe. Or though being shot in the chest seems like a pretty good story in itself. The nurse had turned the light off on the way out. In a few minutes, I was asleep. I woke up after only a few hours. Weird dreams haunted my sleep. When morning came, I was still tired. Karen came in at about 8:00am. I was barely awake but she brought breakfast. It was pretty plain. Two pieces of toast and some porridge. Porridge is pretty much the worst breakfast cereal ever invented but I swallowed it down anyway. I'd lost part of my appetite. Karen told me I might not be hungry. She also told me to eat everything on my plate anyway. So, I did. She came to collect the tray half an hour later. I was well and truly finished and had turned on the TV. There was a good morning show on. With some celebrity guest that I didn't know and jokes I didn't get. I flicked the channels at least 20 times in that hour. Just before lunch Karen came in to inject me with something. I'd stopped asking what it was a few injections ago. I turned my head as the needle pierced my skin. "Hey Karen, do you know where my phone is"? She glanced over at the bag before walking over to it. She rummaged through my stuff finding mostly wrappers and little random items. "It's not here. I think the police may have taken it. They took your"... she paused a bit not knowing if she should say what was about to come out of her mouth. "Guns. They took your guns". I nodded. "Yeah, I figured". Karen glanced again at the handcuffs before turning to leave. "I didn't use them you know". She smiled at me, a little unsurely and nodded. "Do you know if the detectives are going to come back"? "Oh they'll be back", she chuckled under her breath. Like my question was stupid. Maybe it was. "I don't know when though". Karen left and I was alone once more. Before I knew it two days had passed. Two long, boring days. Karen suggested to the cops outside my door that I should be getting up and walking around a bit. They declined. I'm a (and I quote) 'flight risk'. Flight risk? Does anyone even say that anymore? So, I remained stuck in that hospital bed. My body was starting to ache from lack of movement. Vanessa visited once for five minutes and apologised repeatedly. She had a big test or something and wouldn't be able to come in. Sure, I would have liked someone to talk to but I wasn't upset with her over something she couldn't control. I wasn't sure it would be a good idea anyway. The way she made me want to tell her everything was dangerous for me. One day I wouldn't be able to shut up. It was just after lunch when the detectives came back again. They reintroduced themselves and asked me some more questions. I've seen this before. They were using an interrogation technique called the Reid method. Designed to twice questions and answers so that criminals find themselves agreeing to statements that aren't even true. It used to rely on a lot of body language signs, detecting anxiety which was thought at the time to be a sign of lying. Anxiety comes on in any high stress situation. While that aspect isn't exactly effective or reliable anymore it's still one of the most modern interrogation techniques today. They continued to ask me questions they'd already asked, with the words in a different order. They were validating my story. Waiting for me to mess a detail or slip up somewhere. Seems they were using a combination of the Reid method and the PEACE method. The PEACE method is used in the UK, Denmark, New Zealand and a few other places. It involved asking the same questions over and over again, getting as much detail as possible. The aim is to get the criminal to lie so much that they can't keep up with what they've said and they eventually mess up a detail or change a lie. Well that wasn't going to work, because I wasn't lying. They stayed for what must have been nearly two hours. I hadn't taken note of what time they arrived. Karen was getting irritated with the police presence. They still had two guards outside my door. I was alone to my thoughts when they left, then I realised they didn't know what to make of this. They still had no idea who shot me, and neither did I. There isn't much I can do handcuffed to a hospital bed. The next day I had a visit from my lawyer. I didn't realise I had a lawyer. "Jacob, how are you"? "Could be better", I shrugged. She held a briefcase filled with several files. "I don't mean to be rude but who are you"? "I'm sorry. I assumed your parents would have talked to you. I'm Laurel West. Your parents hired me to take care of your case. I do apologise for how long it's taken to get here. There was a lot involved getting the district attorney to hand over what evidence they had against you. Which I'm afraid to say is a lot. I think all of America is convinced you killed Katherine and Toby". "What do you think"? "It's not my job to have an opinion Mr Rogers. It's my job to represent you". I smiled at her answer. She sounded like a good lawyer. She must be too. My parent's lawyer is a middle-aged man from Australia. Which meant they hired her specifically for me. Why hadn't they visited? It was clear they were looking out for me. Yet they hadn't even called. Had they? Would anyone tell me if they had? "So how bad is it"? "Well, it's gotten to the point where we have little options. Your trial date is set for 10 days from now. So, we have a while to prepare, but it's not a lot of time to build a really strong case, so like I said our options are limited. If you're discharged before then you will spend the remaining days in Onslow County Jail", she paused waiting for my response. I simply nodded. "Now the evidence they have against you isn't good. You're prints are on the gun and there are no other suspects". "What do you mean there are no other suspects. I told them who did it"! "Detectives aren't required to follow up leads given to them by other suspects. Besides, you have no proof. From this we have a couple of options. We could plea non-guilty and almost certainly lose. You would be sentenced to probably life in prison. Or we could plea guilty due to insanity". I shook my head immediately. "No way! I'm not crazy". "It doesn't matter whether you're actually insane. I've seen your records you've been seeing a councillor. We can plea insanity because of your PTS. You've already been diagnosed and are getting treatment. If we win, which we likely will, you won't have to go to prison. At the most you'd have to spend a couple of months at a psychiatric centre". "A looney house"?! Laurel rolled her eyes at me. "No. No way. I'm not pleading insanity. I don't want people thinking I'm insane"! "Jacob, we don't have must of a choice here. Do you want to go to prison"? "No, but I don't want to go to a mental hospital either". "Okay. Okay. Think about it Jacob. Prison for life. Mental hospital for a month. There is no choice there Mr Rogers. I'll be back in a couple of days". I picked at my fingernails. "I can't force you to do anything Jacob. But you really would be insane if you didn't follow my advice". With that she packed up her briefcase and left. There is no way I'm going to prison and there is no way I'm going to a mental hospital. There had to be another way. But I couldn't think of one. After spending the rest of the afternoon considering my options and a restless night, I woke up the next morning still no idea what I was going to do. The morning was as boring as usual. As I was eating my lunch Karen came in. "You have a letter here". A letter?