Deiform Two Final Excerpt
We’re getting close to the release of Deiform Two, so here’s an excerpt from the opening scene. Enjoy, and have a wonderful weekend!
Excerpt from The Deiform Fellowship Two: The Cult
Copyright © 2013 Sarah Ettritch. All rights reserved.
With a satchel slung over her shoulder, Jillian strode along the sidewalk toward the courthouse, her skin crawling. She scanned her surroundings, searching for a Beguiler, even though she knew it was nerves. With a gaggle of reporters standing on the courthouse steps, smiling into cameras as they breathlessly delivered live reports to their newsrooms, she wasn’t about to be kidnapped or killed. If they came for her, it would be on a quiet country road, in a dark alley, or someplace to which they’d lured her. Not here, though she wouldn’t be surprised if they were watching her. For the past three weeks, she’d spent her weekdays at the same location.
One of the newspaper columnists waiting on the steps smiled at Jillian. “It’s going to seem weird, not showing up here tomorrow.” She grimaced. “Unfortunately, I think the bastard’s going to walk.”
“You think the jury will return the verdict today?” Jillian asked, resisting the urge to duck her head so she wouldn’t be caught on camera. Wearing a blonde wig because she’d only been “dead” for four months, and being over a thousand kilometres away from the city she’d called home, it was unlikely she’d be recognized. Over a thousand kilometres away from Mom and Danny. She was suddenly aware of the phone on her belt. Would the compulsion to call subside, or would she still be fighting it in twenty years?
“They’ve been at it for two days. Damn, I wish that cop had done his job correctly. You’d think they—” The columnist’s phone rang. She peered at it. “Sorry, I have to take this.”
Jillian nodded, pulled out her own phone, and pretended to read while she listened to the reporters chattering around her.
“. . . tried for the rape and murder of five girls. The jury is entering its third day of deliberations . . .”
“. . . maintained his innocence from the moment of his arrest, and legal experts are predicting that the jury will agree with him. What the jury doesn’t know, Carol, is that journals, photographs, and video were ruled inadmissible by the judge due to an improperly executed warrant.”
“The city’s Catholic community was relieved and gratified when police arrested Taylor, but now it might be plunged into terror again. If Taylor is acquitted, students, parents, and teachers will once again live in fear. They’ll know for sure that the psychopath who’s raped and killed five Catholic schoolchildren is still out there . . .”
“. . . psychiatrists say that Taylor will likely offend again . . . Yes, Don, that’s true. Some are speculating that Taylor will leave the city . . .”
“We can go in,” someone shouted.
Jillian lowered her phone and joined the line shuffling into the courthouse. At the security checkpoint, she flashed her Press ID that identified her as a reporter for an online Catholic publication. As her satchel passed through the x-ray machine, she walked through the metal detector, then lifted her arms when a guard approached to swipe her with a handheld detector. Yep, they were checking everyone twice. Too many people were out for Taylor’s blood.
She claimed a seat in the press room and settled in for what could potentially be a long day. Within ten minutes, every chair was occupied. Any reporter who missed the verdict would probably be fired. Only the TV reporters who had to deliver live updates to their newsrooms remained outside. They’d have arranged to have seats in the gallery reserved for them.
Jillian pulled a tablet from her satchel and killed time by watching a whodunit movie, aware of two reporters peering over her shoulder, and not minding at all. Fortunately for them, the movie finished before the jury reached a verdict. Jillian checked her watch and inwardly sighed. Another hour before lunch, when she’d take her chances and visit the washroom. Should she start another movie? Maybe an hour-long documentary?
“The jury is coming back!” someone yelled from the doorway, to electrifying effect. Everyone was on their feet and hastily gathering their things. Jillian grabbed her satchel and joined the queue to leave the room. “When?” a reporter barked to the guard in the corridor.
“Half an hour,” the guard growled.
His answer didn’t discourage anyone from grabbing a seat in the press gallery. “Finally,” the TV reporter who plunked down next to Jillian murmured. Spectators from the general public streamed into the courtroom. Several women set her teeth on edge. Taylor’s fan club. She’d never understand women who were attracted to monsters. Everyone—except the freaking jury—knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Taylor had raped and murdered those children. Jesus, were they that desperate?
The first of the families arrived. To strengthen her resolve, Jillian made a point of watching them as they shambled down the aisle and went to the places they’d occupied for the entire horrific trial. The pale parents, so fragile and exhausted, still bewildered and lost, as if they couldn’t believe it had actually happened. The older brother, who always sat with his head down and rocked. The single mother who’d lost her only child entered the courtroom next; she’d often wept while listening to the testimonies. On her heels was the grandmother. The judge had cautioned her twice not to shout during the trial. How would she react if Taylor was found not guilty? How would the rest of the families now entering the courtroom react?
The lawyers took their positions. The jury filed in. Everyone looked to where Taylor would make his entrance. The door swung open. A frisson of excitement competed with an undercurrent of disgust and loathing. The arrogant bastard swaggered in and nodded to his defence team. The psychiatrists were right. If the prick got off, he’d leave town, lie low for a while, then begin a new reign of terror. And the families here in the courtroom? No justice. No closure. Just relentless pain.
“All rise.”
Judge Connelly entered, probably wishing that, just this once, he could have thrown the law book out the window and allowed Taylor’s meticulous chronicles of his crimes to stand. What had run through his mind when he’d instructed the jury that they must acquit if they had a reasonable doubt about Taylor’s guilt?
Connelly rapped his gavel. “This court is in session. I remind those present to refrain from using your phones within the courtroom.” He turned to the jury. “Have you reached your verdicts?”
“Yes, your honour,” the jury forewoman said.
“For the charge of the first degree murder of Elizabeth Mary Clark, how do you find the defendant? Guilty or not guilty?”
“Not guilty.”
A collective gasp rose from the courtroom. “You animal!” the grandmother shouted. From the other side of the courtroom rose a heart-wrenching sob. Jillian’s stomach knotted.
“I would remind those present that outbursts will not be tolerated.” Connelly said, gazing in the direction of the grandmother. “For the charge of the first degree murder of Cynthia Rose Matthews, how do you find the defendant? Guilty or not guilty?”
“Not guilty,” the forewoman said, over the sounds of weeping.
The grandmother leaped to her feet. “This isn’t justice! This is a travesty! That animal shouldn’t be allowed to live.”
Connelly nodded to two guards. As they approached the grandmother, she marched into the aisle and pointed at Taylor. “Hell isn’t good enough for you, you piece of shit! You’re a goddamned waste of space!” The guards grasped her arms. Having said her piece, she didn’t protest when they escorted her from the courtroom.
Connelly waited for the whispers to die, then asked the forewoman for the verdict on the next first degree murder charge. Not guilty. The same verdict was delivered for every first degree murder, sexual assault, and lesser charge.
The moment the judge said to Taylor, “You’re free to go,” guards formed a protective barrier around him and everyone in the press gallery practically climbed over each other to get outside and deliver the news. Jillian followed the crowd, and wasn’t surprised to see that a podium had already been set up on the courthouse steps. Taylor wouldn’t pass up the chance to rub everyone’s noses in it.
At the base of the steps, she sucked down a deep breath, then pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
“Yes,” a voice barked.
“Not guilty, on all charges,” Jillian said.
“Repeat.”
“Not guilty. It’s a go.”
“Understood.” The line went dead.
She slipped the phone back into its holder and waited for the triumphant defence team and its client to emerge.
“. . . found Taylor not guilty of all charges. One has to wonder, Carol, how the jury will feel when they find out about what they weren’t allowed to see.”
“. . . will probably lie low for a while. Police can try to keep an eye on him, but they could be accused of harassment if they crowd him too much, and many are questioning whether the police can do anything at all. With overstretched budgets . . .”
“. . . spoke to a mother earlier today who said she’ll consider homeschooling her children if Taylor is exonerated. But two of the victims were snatched from the mall. Nowhere is safe. The principal of Holy—here come Taylor and his defence team.”
Cameras swung in the direction of the podium; reporters crowded around it and held out their microphones and recorders. Jillian hung back, not so far that she’d draw attention to herself, but enough that she wouldn’t have to elbow through too many people to make it to the sidewalk. She pulled out her phone. The defence team and Taylor clustered behind the podium. As the lead defence attorney said the usual—great day for justice; Mr. Taylor, who’d always proclaimed his innocence, vindicated—Jillian watched Taylor, who couldn’t contain his smirk. She pretended to tap notes into her phone and focused on breathing evenly.
When the attorney finished speaking, a few reporters asked questions, but most called for Taylor to say a few words. Jillian’s muscles were so tight, she could hardly breathe. Any moment now . . .
The Cult is the second book in the Deiform Fellowship Series and will be available in October, 2013.
Deiform Two Final Excerpt is a post from: Sarah Ettritch
