Maura had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she walked through the courthouse, on her way to Room 4-8, where the Arthur Hearing, presided over by Judge Nelson Hilfaro, was being held at 1:30 p.m. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. With each floor the rickety elevator traveled, her heart hammered a little faster, the swarm of insects in her stomach buzzed more violently, and she was afraid she was going to throw up. But even though her hands were sweaty, her face remained motionless as stone. The panic that tore at her guts and choked her throat was invisible to everyone else, she paid attention to that. To the rest of the world, Maura was the strong, confident prosecutor. Only on the inside did she fear breaking.
Over the last few years, she had attended over two hundred Arthur hearings, probably close to three hundred or even more. So it was just routine. Any defendant charged with a crime that carried a life sentence was entitled to an Arthur Hearing. These hearings ate up a lot of time but were usually harmless as long as you had a viable case and a competent lead detective. But this was no ordinary case.
Almost three weeks had passed since Maura had first seen William Bantling in Judge Katz's courtroom. Three weeks since she knew the horrible truth, a nightmare come true. Even though the initial shock subsided and she began to accept the facts she was confronted with on a daily basis: since then she hadn't had to sit in the same room as him again, to endure the gaze of his ice-blue eyes. The thought was unbearable that she was breathing the same air as him, his smell, his presence, with no escape other than to run out of the courtroom, in front of a pack of sensationalist journalists and an angry roaring judge. How would Maura react, sitting so close to her enemy? Would fear overwhelm her as it did at the first hearing? Would she break down crying like she has every single night since? Would she scream at him, point her finger at him as if he were the monster from a horror movie? Or would Maura simply take the letter opener out of her briefcase and ram it straight into Bantling's heart with a cold smile before security could even say peep? That was what scared her so much and why she was sick to her stomach. Maura didn't know what she was going to do. And she didn't know if she was really in control.
She opened the huge mahogany door, took a deep breath, and entered the crowded courtroom. Seven defendants were scheduled to appear at this Arthur Hearing, but they weren't there yet. The jury box where they would sit chained together was empty. A load fell off Maura's mind. So she still had a reprieve. Upfront next to the prosecution's table, she spotted Vince Korsak. Dozens of cameras were set up around the courtroom. Maura's gaze roamed the hall, searching for the familiar outline of Jane, her black hair, dark brown, warm eyes, to no avail. Then suddenly a heavy, warm hand settled on her shoulder.
"Are you looking for me?" It was Jane. She was wearing a freshly ironed white blouse and a midnight blue pantsuit. She had taken the time to bend her usually wild curls to some extent, only one curl had become independent and curled at her temple. The detective looked very serious and professional. And damn good, too.
"Honestly, yes. Korsak's already out front," Maura said.
Jane's hand was warm as she caringly pushed the lawyer through the crowd to the gallery. "Yeah, you can't miss him. He even brought a decent tie in case you need him as a witness. But you better save Vince for an emergency."
"Thanks for the warning. I'll stick with you on that one. Fancy you. They seem to pay you well at BPD. "
"Only the finest for you. When are we on?"
"According to the calendar, we're number six, but I don't know if the judge will follow the order today."
They found Korsak leaning against the prosecution's table, chatting with a young female attorney. When he saw Maura, he smiled broadly and shook her hand. "Hello, Counselor! Long time no see, huh? How are you?"
"Hello, Vince. Thanks for getting all dressed up. You look great."
"Really, Korsak," Jane agreed, "you look fine. But you'd better put your jacket on before you raise your arm to take the oath, buddy."
"Oh no, not again!" Korsak raised his arm and saw the dark discoloration under his armpit. "Same old shit, I just can't get the old stains out."
"You need a good cleaning," Jane said with a suppressed grin.
"Oh come on, I need a good woman. Don't you know one, Counselor?"
Maura grinned broadly. "None good enough for you."
"How about your secretary?"
"Oh, for Heaven's sake! I want to be able to continue respecting you. But don't worry about the jacket, Vince, I just need Jane on the stand."
At that moment the door to the jury box opened, and in walked three prison officers in dark green uniforms. Behind them, the line of handcuffed and shackled defendants trotted in, chains clanking as they spread out across the two rows of benches. Most of the inmates wore street clothes because they were allowed to do so in court. And for most of the prisoners, it remained the clothes they had already been arrested in; they would wear them to court until their defense attorney finally showed mercy and lent them a suit for the trial or got them something from Goodwill. Just in the second row, a bit apart from the others, sat a handsome blond man in an orange jumpsuit, the prison uniform for inmates accused of murder. Maura felt the room begin to spin, and she quickly looked elsewhere.
"There sits our man," Jane said, looking in his direction.
"Hmmm ... Guess jail doesn't agree with him much, Jane. He looks a little pale. It's probably the food. Or the entertainment." Korsak laughed.
Jane looked at Maura with concern, but the lawyer had her head bent low over her briefcase, and the detective couldn't see her face. "Speaking of the devil," Jane said, "the grand jury was pretty quick to indict, don't you think? Even I expected them to take at least an hour, and I'm an incorrigible optimist."
"Yes, Yars told me how well you did on the stand. The perfect witness, which of course doesn't surprise me." Maura took a breath. She had her back turned to the jury box and was now looking Jane firmly in the eye. She fought desperately against the paralyzing fear that crept mercilessly upward from her stomach and gradually reached her consciousness, against the compulsion to turn and face the madness. Anon. She wasn't ready yet. She knew Jane was watching her, waiting for her reaction, and she tried not to let on. "That reminds me, Jane, I still need to tell you about what happened on Wednesday, if you haven't heard already."
"What?"
"The visit Jerry Small and I had, from our downtown colleagues."
"Oh, no. You don't mean the Federals, do you?"
"Yes, that's who."
"Who, someone from the FBI?"
"Yes. The special agent in Boston, a little fat guy with bad manners. Gracker's his name, I think, Mark Gracker. And accompanying him was none other than His Majesty the U.S. Attorney himself."
"Tom de la Flors?"
"That's the one."
"You're kidding. What did they want?"
"In short, Boogeyman."
"All rise!" barked a loud voice, and silence fell on the courtroom. The heavy double doors to the bench swung open, and the Honorable Judge Nelson Hilfaro waddled in, dragging his black robe on the floor behind him.
"I'll tell you later," Maura whispered.
"Don't forget!" whispered Jane back.
"Sit down," the bailiff ordered, and everyone sat down.
"Good afternoon," Judge Hilfaro began, clearing his throat. "In view of the, well, special case we have to hear today, which is probably why most of you are here," he nodded toward the press occupying the last ten rows of the courtroom, "I've decided to change the order and call the case of Massachusetts vs. William Rupert Bantling first, so we'll have more room here after that. After that, I will follow the agenda as usual. Is the prosecution ready to begin?"
Maura was a little caught off guard. She had thought that she would have at least the reading of the agenda and possibly another case or two to emotionally prepare for her appearance. But maybe jumping in at the deep end was for the best. That way she couldn't drive herself crazy. She stepped in front of the judge at the prosecutor's podium.
"Yes, Your Honor. Maura Isles for the state of Massachusetts. We are ready."
"The defense?"
Sarah Rubio, in a conservative black suit, her hair in a tight knot, strode across the courtroom to the defense podium.
"Sarah Rubio for the defendant William Bantling. We, too, are ready, your honor."
"Fine. How many witnesses for the prosecution?"
"Just one, your honor."
"All right, let's get started. Let the prosecution begin." Judge Hilfaro didn't make a fuss. He didn't value limelight, so he didn't like cases that went through the media. That was one of the reasons the Chief of Justice assigned him to Arthur hearings. Those usually drew little interest. The press covered the first hearing for particularly barbaric crimes and, if there was still interest then, the trial itself. It wasn't every day that a serial killer who had made the international headlines ended up in Judge Hilfaro's quiet courtroom.
"The prosecution calls Detective Jane Rizzoli to the stand."
With long strides, Jane walked over. As she was sworn in, all eyes were on her.
After a few formalities, Maura questioned her witness about the evening of September 19th, when Jane had been called to the Causeway. Jane was good to use as a witness; she knew what legal facts Maura needed to make her case, and the detective knew what testimony Maura provided. Other than "What happened next?", Jane needed no other cues. Jane told the courtroom about the vehicle stop, the discovery of Anna Prado's body, and the search of the house where human blood with Anna Prado's blood type had been found on the wall and floor of the garden shed, as well as marks on the possible murder weapon, a scalpel.
No mention was made of the substance found in Anna Prado's body, nor of the porn videos from Bantling's bedroom. All the prosecution had to present at this stage was that a murder had been committed and that circumstantial evidence suggested that Bantling was the perpetrator. Any other ugly, off-the-wall facts would be used later in the trial when the task was to present motive and possibility to a jury of twelve and to remove all doubt.
The press thirstily soaked up every word Jane said, the frantic scratching of dozens of pens could be heard in the courtroom. Most of the details were new to the public, and the journalists' excitement was almost palpable.
Maura felt Bantling's cold eyes on her, his gaze wandering slowly, wantonly over her body, probably mentally undressing her already, here, in the middle of the courtroom. During the Arthur Hearing, the defendant wasn't sitting with the defense, and from the jury box, Bantling had an excellent view of the entire courtroom, and of her as she interrogated Jane. Maura saw out of the corner of her eye that he was watching her, and for a moment she wondered if he might recognize her, and what she would do if he did. But she quickly pushed the thought away. She had changed completely since then, and she was sure that his current interest was just a sick curiosity about every female in the room. For a split second, she heard his breath again, the hiss as he blew air through the slit in the rubber mask, and she had the sickening smell of coconut in her nose again. But she pushed the notion away, turned her back on the jury box, and forced herself to listen to Jane. Don't pay any attention to him. Just don't freak out.
"Thank you, Detective Rizzoli," Judge Hilfaro finally said. "Defense, any questions?"
Sarah Rubio stood up and looked at Jane. "Just a couple, Detective Rizzoli. You didn't make the arrest?"
Jane remained calm, shaking her head just a little. "No."
"The vehicle stop, the subsequent search of the trunk, and the discovery of Ms. Prado's body had been conducted by BPD officers before you arrived, hadn't they?"
"Yes."
"And the vehicle search and the discovery of Ms. Prado's body had been done more or less by accident, hadn't it?"
Jane looked at Rubio seriously. "No. The car check was done because of excessive speed and a safety defect in Mr. Bantling's car that a Boston Police Department officer had observed."
"What I meant to say is that your task force didn't have Mr. Bantling's name on any list of suspects in connection with the Boogeyman murders prior to September nineteenth, correct?"
This time the detective nodded. "That's right."
"To be specific, none of the members of the task force had ever heard the name William Bantling before that day, correct?"
"That's correct."
"So the vehicle stop on the Causeway was pure coincidence? A routine check conducted by one of our highly regarded peerless boys in blue from the Boston Police Department?" This comment elicited laughter from the audience. Everyone knew the BPD's reputation, and it wasn't always glorious.
Jane continued to remain calm, at least outwardly, her eyes were telling a different story. "Yes."
"And of course a BPD cop would never pull over a car or search someone's trunk for no reason without asking for the necessary consent?"
"Objection," Maura interrupted. She didn't like the direction Rubio's questions were taken at all. Had she been talking to Chavez or to Ribero? Did she know about the anonymous tip? Or was she just bluffing?
"Sustained. Go ahead, Counselor. We get it already. If you want to file a motion to dismiss, do it in front of the trial judge, not here. Anything else, Ms. Rubio?"
"No, your honor, no further questions. But I would like to formulate a motion for bail on behalf of my client."
"This is pointless, Ms. Rubio. I have heard what I needed to hear. Based on the facts presented today, I find that the circumstantial evidence establishes probable cause that the defendant committed the murder with which he's charged. The court finds the defendant to be a danger to the general public, and there is a risk of flight. For this reason, he will remain in custody without bail until trial."
"Your Honor," Rubio's voice was sharper now, "I have reason to believe that the vehicle stop was unlawful, as was the search of the trunk."
"Fine. As I said, you are free to file a motion before Judge Chaskel to dismiss the case. However, not here in my court. Not without adequate witnesses. That's my judicial decision."
"May I at least suggest alternative forms of conditional release?"
"Sure. Give me a suggestion of what you would use to effectively keep a man accused of ten counts of murder out of the public eye."
"So far, he's only been charged with one murder, Your Honor, and that's exactly the point. In the eyes of the court and the public, my client is seen as the killer of ten women, when in fact he's only charged with the death of one."
"It seems to me that's more than enough, Ms. Rubio." Judge Hilfaro turned to Jane. "Is William Rupert Bantling considered a suspect in the investigation of the other nine Boogeyman murders, Detective Rizzoli"
"Yes, sir."
Judge Hilfaro scowled at Sarah Rubio, but he let her speak fruitlessly for about ten more minutes for alternative custody. But when she finally asked for house arrest, he just laughed.
At the prosecutor's table, with Jane at her side, Maura sighed with relief. Bantling would definitely stay behind bars until trial. That was a done deal for now.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Bantling knew he wouldn't get bail. He knew his lawyer wasn't good enough to get this through. But she should at least try. Exhaust all possibilities. He'd bounce the bitch for her $300 an hour either way.
So he wasn't too surprised when the Honorable Nelson Hilfaro refused bail. Surprised, no, but he was pissed. Pissed off at the ignorant judge who looked at him like he was a leper; at the scrawny, uptight prosecutor who stalked around the courtroom questioning this obnoxious BPD officer like her shit didn't stink. Yet the cop was the only one he had any minimal respect for at all.
And Bantling was mad at his lawyer for not letting him speak for himself, not a single word. He couldn't stand that. He hated being bossed around, and then by an overpaid bimbo. Hell, if he let a woman fuck him, it would be in bed at best.
Actually, he didn't trust any woman to represent him, not even in the supermarket in the checkout line. Especially not in court, and then not when it came to such a delicate matter as his freedom. But Billy Bantling was no fool. He knew what the newspapers were writing about him. He was aware that people thought he was a beast, the devil himself. In the simple, mindless minds of the millions of TV viewers around the world, he had long since been condemned. And that's how he knew that Sarah Rubio, the eager buffer in the well-behaved costume, was a wise choice. He had done his homework long before he had even needed her as a lawyer. She was good-looking but not stunning, respected by both Latinos and Boston's Anglo-Saxon community, and just pretty enough to make jurors think. Until they wondered if this nice, pretty, educated, conservative Cuban girl from Hialeah would really represent such a vile diabolical beast.
How could she stand next to him, whisper in his ear, share the table with him, and drink water from the same pitcher, proclaiming with conviction his innocence, knowing full well what crimes he was accused of? Yes, if such a lovely lady did not think him guilty of rape, torture, and killing, maybe it was not true in the end? As a woman, she certainly wouldn't want a sociopathic serial killer on the loose.
Bantling knew he was right, that he had made the right choice then for when he might need a defense someday. But faced with the grim prospect of continuing to be locked in this piss-smelling, vermin-infested hole, he was more than frustrated, and it took every fiber of his self-control not to yell at the fat judge on the cheap mahogany bench and the uptight prosecutor, or even his mediocre defense attorney. But he remained calm, just as the nice lawyer had requested, his cuffed hands seemingly folded in godly prayer, chewing the inside of his cheeks to hide the contemptuous grin that threatened to expose his otherwise pious poker face.
Silently, he watched them all pick at his freedom as his defense attorney asked for electronically secured house arrest, for weekend release, for suicide prevention. Then the gray mouse of a prosecutor as she requested solitary confinement, the suspension of phone privileges, the cessation of press visits. Badass Maura Isles. He knew her name from the papers, but now he was looking at her closely. He watched her play ball with Detective Rizzoli. Something irritated him about the sight of her, but he couldn't figure out what it was.
There was something strangely familiar about her.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"So what was it with the Federals and Boogeyman?"
Until the press throng had dispersed, Maura and Jane hid in the judge's chambers hallway, where they were alone. Judge Hilfaro had managed to kick all the reporters out of the courtroom after Bantling's hearing so that he could proceed with the rest of the Arthur hearings in peace. The reporters from the major agencies were long gone, but in the lobby, the less honorable members of their guild were still snooping around.
"De la Flors held a court order and an injunction from Federal District Judge Carol Kingsley under my nose," Maura said. "They want everything, lab reports, evidence, documents. Everything we have."
"You've got to be kidding!" Jane slammed the flat of her hand against the wall, the dull thud echoing through the empty hallway. "But we're not going to let them have it, are we?" She could read Maura's answer on her face. "Damn it. Can we fight this?"
"Here's the thing: Federal prosecutors want to charge Boogeyman with the murders, but except for Siban, whose body was actually found on federal property, they lack jurisdiction. That means, yes, we can fight this. You can imagine de la Flors wasn't exactly thrilled when I threw that at him."
"Okay. But if they can't legally access the other nine murders, why do we have to give them everything? Just because of Siban?"
"Yes and no. They need what we have to connect Bantling to Siban. But besides that, they also want to get him for, hold on, robbery!"
Jane took a long look at the lawyer and blinked a few times. "Robbery? What kind of robbery?"
"De la Flors wants fame and glory. He wants his name in the papers. And he wants Boogeyman. And if he can't get him for the murders, he'll drag him into federal court to sue him for robbing women of their clothes and hearts. I'm not sure in what order he'll read the indictment. That's where he wants to hold Bantling with the Hobbs Act for a few years to make a fool out of Small, which we all know isn't too hard to do. Then when Small loses his re-election and de la Flors is appointed federal judge, maybe he'll send Bantling back to us and we can pick up where we started."
"The Hobbs Act? He really thinks he can make it sound as if Boogeyman is endangering commerce between the individual states?"
"He's certainly going to try."
"And what's Gracker's role? That fat toad?"
"He's de la Flors' standard-bearer. Tried to make us think he could investigate better than we could. But when it comes down to it, he's a nobody without de la Flors."
"What did Small do?"
"Three guesses. Besides inviting the vampires in for doughnuts and a pot of zero negative, nothing."
"So they get what they want?"
"Not everything. Copies of documents, copies of lab reports. I shower them with such mountains of paper that afterward, they need glasses with lenses as thick as the bottoms of bottles. I told de la Flors to get ready for war if he thought I was going to give him the original pieces of evidence. In response, he bolted."
Jane took a long look at the lawyer, smiled broadly, and leaned over to Maura. She still had her arm braced against the wall, their faces almost touching. "I like you, Maura. Not only are you beautiful, but you're pretty tough."
Maura felt herself blush. "Thanks. I'll take it as a compliment."
"And I meant it that way."
At that moment, the door to the courtroom opened, and Korsak came out. Jane lowered her arm and turned quickly to her partner, who was making an unhappy face. Maura felt her heartbeat return to normal. "Where have you been, Korsak? Don't tell me you had to give an interview to Channel 7."
"You have no idea. I think both channels are hilarious, but if anything, Cartoon Network has the hotter reporter. What are you two up to? Hiding in the dark?"
For some reason, Maura blushed again. Jane quickly replied. "Our counselor here just told me about the visit the Federals paid her on Wednesday. Apparently, Gracker found a dimwit, Tom de la Flors. The U.S. Attorney's office wants to take Boogeyman away from us. They gave Maura a court order."
"As if today wasn't bad enough. Those assholes. Sorry for the language, Counselor."
"You don't have to worry about Maura's virgin ears. She told de la Flors and his snitch the same thing. We're hoping they'll just go away again."
"I have such a silly feeling that's not going to happen. Especially not now."
"Why? What happened?"
"They just discovered Boogeyman's latest artwork. Looks like Morgan Weber's body, or at least what's left of it, was discovered about an hour ago. Duty calls, my friend."
"Where was it found?" asked Jane.
"In a fishing shack. Some drunken fisherman was trying to sleep it off there, and he found her hanging from the ceiling. Pretty bad, I heard. The ME is on his way. BPD has secured the location where she was found. But the vultures have already gotten wind of it, and the helicopters are already circling in the sky."
"All right. We're on our way." Damn. Jane's quiet hope of finding Morgan Weber alive was gone.
"I'm going after you guys. I need to check out the site," Maura said.
"You can ride with me. I'll bring you back here later, or a patrol car will take you."
"Okay," Maura nodded.
"Hey, Counselor, you did good back in there," Korsak said as the three walked toward the security gate behind which the elevators were located.
"Thanks, but I have to pass on the credit. Jane was the star of the show. She didn't need me at all."
"Don't be so modest. You had your fans like that, too, Maura."
"What are you talking about?" asked Maura. Journalists were still crowding outside Room 4-8. Obviously, they had already heard the latest news. As the security door slid open, reporters surrounded them, and camera lights flared. The pack had smelled blood.
"Well, our psycho has a thing for you," Korsak hissed through his teeth as he tried to put on a nice face for the cameras. "He didn't take his eyes off you during the whole hearing."