“But you said that defense is hopeless, Mitch.” Grace’s voice sliced through the room sharp as a knife’s edge. “We need to do better for my daughter. What Penny said changes everything.”
“No, really, it confuses everything,” said Navarro.
“So, what then? We’re going to let the prosecution steamroll us at trial and try to fight on appeal?” Grace was outraged. “That’s not good enough for me—and it shouldn’t be for you either.” She directed her ire at Navarro. “We have new information here, and we have to act on it. Now!” Grace punctuated her demand with a slap of her hand against the conference room table. The thunderclap turned the room silent, but nobody seemed ruffled by the outburst. Open emotions were to a law firm as an open wound was to an ER.
“You make a good point, Grace,” Mitch said, “and I think if we hadn’t talked it out, I might have missed an important angle.”
“The two-killer theory?” Grace asked, sounding hopeful.
“No, something else,” said Mitch. “Except for that one glimpse of Penny we just had, from the night of the arrest on, it’s only been Eve. From my understanding—and Greg, correct me if I’m wrong here—to win in court, it depends on whether the personality controlling Penny was unable to appreciate the criminality of her conduct or conform to law.”
“Not exactly. We need to prove in court that Penny has DID and then make the case that one of her alters did the crime, which is why she has no memory of the murder. There’s precedent for that sort of strategy, but it’s no guarantee we’ll get the verdict we’re after,” Navarro clarified.
“What if we can strengthen the case by finding the killer?”
It took Grace a moment for the implications to sink in. “You’re talking about getting through Eve, aren’t you? Reaching her other alters.”
Mitch nodded. “If I can observe this other personality—maybe it’s Eve in an altered, psychotic state, or it’s Chloe, Ruby, or someone we haven’t met yet, a fourth alter. If I can observe them under the right conditions, I could testify that one of Penny’s alters meets the test for lack of criminal responsibility, which really means that Penny meets the standard.”
Navarro steepled his hands together, looking intrigued. “Go on,” he said.
“I looked at the ME report of the murder. The crime scene photos … they were utterly savage.” Mitch screwed up his face in a grimace, as if seeing those pictures in his mind.
“I didn’t think a girl of Penny’s size and stature could inflict such carnage, but I’m making some inquiries to see if it’s possible. It’s also possible she has a male alter, or an avenging personality that we’ve never met, one that not only gave her a feeling of rage-enhanced strength but changed her physiology during the attack. There are stories of an entire-body stress response giving people superhuman strength in life-and-death emergencies.
“I guess what I’m suggesting is this: if I can demonstrate that Penny can enter a dissociative state in which she cannot conform to the law or reasonably know that killing is wrong, we might have a stronger case in court. But it means I’ll need to connect with all of Penny’s alters, including ones she may be keeping hidden from us.”
“Can you do that? Contact them?” Navarro made it sound like Mitch was going to attempt some kind of séance.
“I can certainly try,” he said.
“I’m good with that,” Navarro replied curtly. He, too, understood that time was money. “Whatever I can do to support you, I’m happy to do it.”
“Thank you,” Mitch said.
“But Mitch,” Navarro continued, “the trial is three weeks away. You’d better hurry.”
CHAPTER 17
MITCH GOT LOST ON his way to the therapy room, making him late for what he assumed would be a session with Eve. Maybe Penny, Chloe, or even British-sounding Ruby would surprise him and show up in her place. Perhaps his efforts would be too effective, and one of them would snap, try to break his neck—but then, assuming he didn’t die, he’d have what he needed for the trial. If Edgewater had taught him anything, it was to always expect the unexpected.
When he arrived, Mitch locked eyes with the guard keeping watch over his patient. In forty minutes, this same guard, or another like him, would return to escort Penny back to her cell—though Mitch could see at a glance that it wasn’t Penny awaiting his arrival. The girl, seated at the table in her green uniform, projected a confident air, greeting Mitch with something of a cruel smirk. Her blue eyes held all the warmth of ice chips. Her hair hung loose, cascading well past her shoulders.