Confessions Chapter 60
Castle halts his breakfast conversation with Alexis in midsentence as he stares at the headline on the morning's Ledger he's unfolding. "Dad, what's wrong?" the teen questions.
"Nothing's wrong. Something's right. I just hadn't expected it this soon. Jury selection just ended for Bracken's trial. The real action is supposed to be starting today."
"Are you going to be able to watch it?"
"I can't be there. Neither can Beckett. We're both on the potential witness list. There aren't any cameras or recording devices allowed in the courtroom either. Anything coming out of the trial will have to come from the press pool."
Alexis snorts. "That stinks!"
"It's supposed to keep witnesses' testimony from being contaminated by what they hear from other witnesses." Castle shrugs. "I guess that makes sense."
"But after how hard you and Kate worked gathering evidence against Bracken, what could possibly change your minds about your testimony?"
"Getting kidnapped by foreign spies and brainwashed, maybe," Castle speculates. "But I don't see that happening. The way Bracken's been caught out, I can't imagine foreign governments or even foreign drug syndicates having a use for him anymore. He's dug his own hole. We just have to wait for the jury to tip him into it. But if I can help the process along, I'll enjoy every moment of it. I get the feeling Beckett will too."
"So when do you think the prosecution might decide to call you and Kate?" Alexis wonders.
"No idea. The prosecution may not even know yet. It might depend on what they get out of the other witnesses. Just Maddox, Carmack, and Simmons should be enough to put Bracken away for about 100 lifetimes. And I'm willing to bet they have a lot more than those three. If the prosecutors go for drama, they'll start with witnesses further down the chain and work up to the grand finale. But for now, we'll just have to follow what we can on ZNN and the Ledger, like everyone else. And I know that unless she has to be in court, Beckett's going to keep her nose to the grindstone to avoid obsessing about the proceedings."
"How about you, Dad?"
"Wherever Donna Quixote goes, her faithful Sancho Castle will follow."
Marie Preminger's day starts with an undeniable feeling of excitement. She's been chosen for the press pool covering William Bracken's trial. Her choice didn't come out of nowhere. She's been covering Bracken, first as a congressman and then as a senator, for years. She witnessed his political rise with a secret sense of dread. She'd seen a lot of politicians form webs of power, but very few like his. And while she could applaud his campaign of environmental advocacy, his cadre of supporters and sycophants never smelled right. And she has a damn good nose.
She decides to take the subway to the Federal Courthouse. With the crush of media and ordinary citizens gathered to await reports from inside, it will be the fastest and easiest thing to do. The platform is as full as usual in the morning, but she has a spot near the tracks. Her eyes, like those of most of the people around her, are directed into the tunnel to detect the light of an approaching train. She barely feels the prick on her neck, absently wondering if she imagined it. But during the course of her short trip, she grows increasingly nauseated and dizzy. By the time she checks in with her producer at the courthouse, the world is beginning to spin around her. She hates giving up her spot in the pool but reluctantly agrees to let her backup take her place.
While outwardly expressing sympathy, elation spreads through Giles Macklin's veins. Everything has gone as planned. Marie will be unable to work for days, maybe longer, and he will have her place in the courtroom. He can't report anything that is too far off the beam, not for ZNN. But he can say just enough to create niggling doubts about Bracken's guilt. The jury won't see what he says, of course. They are forbidden to watch any media reports of the trial. But Bracken's consultant pegged one who might be close enough to the edge to block a unanimous verdict. Add a hung jury to the slight twist he'll be giving his reporting, and Bracken will have just enough loyalists to start rebuilding his power base. And with any luck, Giles, as his newly minted media coordinator, will preside over the process.
Giles doesn't fool himself that Bracken is innocent. But in his view, no politician is innocent. They've all taken stands and voted in ways that have cost lives – sometimes a hell of a lot of lives. But as far as Giles is concerned, wielding power is the only way to accomplish anything. And the closer you are to the source, the better you fare. If Bracken is acquitted, Giles will be riding along on the escalator back to the top.
To Victoria Masterson, arranging the pumpkin carving contest is the best part of her job. Throughout the year, she sets up various events to promote the Artisan and Craft Center. Most of them are well-attended and boost sales. Still, pumpkin carving is the only one that involves children, the wellspring of the creative spirit. She's gone to great lengths to make it perfect, from pumpkins most amenable to carving to refreshments appealing to young and old alike. She weaves in and out of tables, examining every detail. Finally satisfied, she prepares to close the center for the night.
His blue eyes darkening almost to navy, Castle stomps out of the elevator and straight to Kate's desk in the bullpen. "Did you catch Giles Macklin on ZNN last night? That asshole implied that there could be some political motivation behind Bracken's prosecution."
"Castle, that kind of crap is all over certain segments of the media," Kate says as he slams himself into his chair. "It has been ever since his indictment was announced. You shouldn't pay any attention to it, you know it isn't true."
"I know it's been out there, Kate, but never in the mainstream. Still, ZNN is about as mainstream as you can get."
"Castle, you've been making sure the truth got out there for a long time. You don't need to worry about ZNN. Besides, the jury won't see it, and they're the only ones who matter."
Castle shakes his head. "I still don't like it."
"I know, But right now we have something more immediate to focus on – a new body. I got the call about thirty seconds before you stormed in here."
"Where is it?"
"At the Artisan and Craft Center."
"I'm supposed to take Alexis over there when she gets out of school. We go every year for the pumpkin carving contest."
"The contest may be delayed this year, Castle. The Center is a crime scene."
"I'm a supporter, Beckett. I've met a lot of the staff. Do you know who got killed?"
"I just know there's a victim. We'll have to find out who it is when we get there."
Castle stares mournfully at the body on the floor surrounded by grinning jack-o'lanterns. "It's Victoria Masterson. She runs the contest. But no one was supposed to do any pumpkin carving until this afternoon."
Lanie looks up from the body. "The killer didn't limit the knifework to the gourds." She lifts the edge of Victoria's blouse. "Have a look."
A carefully carved face stares up from Victoria's abdomen.