Island 13

Chapter One: Tara

Friday is my day to sleep in. I had no classes and made it a point to not do any work on Friday mornings. Today is a Friday, and my phone is belting out the chorus of the frozen soundtrack let it go like there is no tomorrow. And I could not let it go. Welcome to my life.
"Screw you Kirsten!", I yelled, as I groggily sat up and began rubbing my eyes. I could hear Kirstie laughing. She's my housemate. She also thinks it's hilarious to change my ringtone. She found it particularly funny that time I got kicked out of the courthouse after blasting knee socks by the Arctic monkeys during trial. I make a mental note to kill her every single time she does it. Then she makes me the meanest waffles I've ever eaten, for breakfast. So I forgive her. The way to my heart is through my stomach.
I rolled over and picked up my phone. Yes, it was still ringing. "What's up professor Gray?", I asked. "You're covering the backstabber trial in court today. And it starts in 38 minutes.", She informed me. Curtly. Not so much a question about what took me so long to get to the phone. Nothing that would waste any time. That's professor Gray for you.
" I thought Caitlin was covering that." I said, hoping that this was all just one big mistake and I could crawl back into bed and become an Indian Frankie wrapped in my blankets in order to drift off to sleep again on this wonderful Friday morning. "No. Caitlin called in sick. And we can't afford to use any subs on this case, this is high profile. I want you on it. ", she told me.
" okay. Fine. I'm on it.", I answered in a tired voice and hung up. To be honest, I was fairly pumped to be covering the backstabber case. But I'll poke my eye out before I let professor Gray know that. I'm the editor in chief of the college law journal, which means I sit at a desk and do a whole lot of editing. Paperwork. Also, I get to order people around. That part is kinda fun. But it's clearly more exciting to be in the courthouse covering a serial killer case than ordering people around. It was time I got off the desk and did some field work.
I got off my ass and put on champs élysées by Zaz on my iPod deck. Singing along to it, I took a quick shower and dressed in a simple white shirt, blue jeans and a Navy blue blazer. Neat. But not boring. I have long straight black boring hair and no time to do anything fancy with it. So I just pulled it into a neat high pony tail and made for the door. After grabbing some of those waffles to go, of course.
" Bye Kirstie! Thanks for the waffles! I'm Covering the backstabber trial! I'll be back in for dinner", I yelled. I heard her say something back. But I couldn't make out what she was saying. So I skipped out anyway, and took the train to the court house, and made it in, just in time, bee lining for a seat right in the middle of the balcony. Perfect vantage point.
This was a particularly controversial and interesting case for us law students. I haven't done much homework on the backstabber. But I've read the papers. Three influential women. All authoritative figures, died exactly the same way. Not a coincidence. They were stabbed with An ice pick to the back of the throat. It seemed to be the only thing connecting the women. That they were all successful and they were all very dead. Also, the fact that the backstabber took their hair as souvenirs. They were all missing their hair. I supposed it could've been worse. Profiling indicated a male, mid thirties to mid forties, a closeted male chauvinist. The man the police had nabbed had fit the profile perfectly. I haven't done much background research on him. Yet. But what really put the last nail in that man's coffin is the fact that they found the hair of all the dead women in this guys place. Along with elaborate evidence suggesting he'd been stalking these women for months. Maybe years. Some say they found a whole room dedicated to just these Killings.
But that's not the interesting part. At least not for us. By all means this man would most likely face a death sentence today. Any lawyer would advise him to plead guilty, which is probably what the defence did too. But this man claims that he is innocent and believes that he's been framed. And that's why I'm here today, because this isn't just any open and shut case. This is going to be an especially controversial trial because we don't know the defence teams strategy yet. They could play the mentally ill card. But all the evidence suggests that the defendant preplanned his attacks and stalked his victims which indicates a sound mind. And the defence team isn't exactly led by the best. The public prosecutor on the other hand is a strong contender and would probably not back down without handing the defendant a death sentence. He was one of those big shots.
The bailiff called 'All rise' as the judge arrived. And I turned off my phones' ringer. Wouldn't want to get kicked out today.
The trial went just as I had expected. The defendant pleaded not guilty. Still claiming to be innocent of all the crimes he'd been accused of. "Someone framed me.", that's all he had to say. Why anyone would go to so much trouble, killing three women just to frame one man was beyond me. Apparently, it was beyond the public prosecutor as well. He began his opening statement. And I could tell This man was all grand gestures, and theatrics. He spun a story of law and murder with ridiculous levels of drama and just a side of evidence and witnesses that I was thrilled, impressed and a touch annoyed all at the same time. But that's the kind of people that really shine. In the courthouse at least. I've often noticed that if life was a stage and we were all actors, the courthouse is a circus and we're all fire breathers and tight rope walkers and clowns. And the ones with the best acts are the stars of the show. Often the ring master. And it seemed like the prosecutor was the ring master.
Until the defence began to cross examine the prosecutions lead witness. One handsome young detective. Mike chase. He'd been one of the lead detectives working the backstabber case and he proved to be the prosecutions worst nightmare. He seemed smart enough, clearly not incompetent. But he was certainly doing his best job in helping the defence break the prosecutors air tight case.
For example.
Defence lawyer: " Do you think Mr. Norson is telling the truth? That there's a chance that he might have been framed?"
Det. M. Chase: " I believe the evidence is against Mr. Norson's claims that he is innocent."
Defence lawyer: " let me get this straight. You believe that the evidence is against mr. Norson. Does that mean you aren't actually one hundred percent sure where the evidence points to?"
Prosecutor: "Objection. beliefs are not facts. "
Det. M. Chase: " No. The evidence obviously points to Mr. Norson."
Defence lawyer: " Can I take that as an indication that you're not confident about the authenticity of this evidence that the prosecutor oh so carefully built his case on besides the drama and the theatrics?"
Det M. Chase: " It appears authentic."
Defence lawyer: " Appears? Okay, is it possible that the evidence was planted."
Det. M. Chase: " It's a possibility."
Defence lawyer: " So you admit that Mr. Norson could be innocent, and this evidence planted, meaning that he was indeed framed."
Det. M. Chase: " I guess."
Defence lawyer: " Yes or no?"
Det. M. Chase: " Yes."
But the entire time he didn't look like he wasn't sure or like he had just realised the defences angle. He wasn't confused. I was sure of that. He deliberately sabotaged the prosecutors case. I wondered why. It didn't make any sense. I didn't understand this mans' act. He caught the backstabber and now he's wrecking the prosecutors case. But why? What does he stand to gain? Nothing. In fact he stands to lose some. Did he perhaps believe that Norson was actually innocent and they might've gotten it wrong? But how? Could it be that he was in fact framed?
I wondered what he knew that I didn't. He had dark brown hair. And intelligent grey eyes. And I searched them for answers, they didn't betray much.
The defence had his moment and he put on his act. He painted the detectives handling the case In a callous, lazy picture. He spoke of a fourth unidentified set of blonde human female hair. This was new. Wasn't in the papers. There were only three identified victims. " Who did this belong to? And why was there no evidence indicating that Mr. Norson was stalking her too? Where is this woman's corpse? Who is she?", he raised a lot of questions. "Do the police really have all these answers? Or did they just catch the most convenient guy? What if the real killer is still out there? Why is this trial so rushed? Are we in fact safe?", he made sound arguments. I believed him. Why didn't Bryan Norson stalk the fourth woman? It made no sense? Who was she? As I sat there. Champs élysées played in the back of my brain but this time it wasn't the peppy tune that I'd danced around in the shower to. It was a twisted, darker version. And I thought of how much the desk had tamed me. Last week, my best friend had called. Out of the blue. Audrey. We'd drifted apart as best friends do. And I had six articles to edit besides tallying up the budget cuts on a spread sheet. She'd sounded worried. " Tar, I'm scared. Something isn't right. Things are out of place." I'd felt a shiver run down her back, perhaps even a tear. Audrey never admits that she's scared. But I brushed it off. It was probably nothing. "Listen, can I call you back? I have tons of articles to go over.", I said. I was distracted. And I had a deadline. " I feel like someones been in the house,Tar.", she told me. "And I'm sure it's just your idiosyncrasies acting up. You're being paranoid. No one's stalking you. You got this. I'll call you as soon as I can, okay?", I'd said, as I tapped away at my keyboard while tilting my head to pin the phone to my shoulder. She'd just hung up. I'd never called her back. I felt a pang of guilt as the memory rushed away as suddenly as it had come. I'd zoned out. The prosecutor was making his closing argument, rebuilding the case the defence had broken down so carefully rebuttal after rebuttal. And I was watching the jury members who seemed to be buying the prosecutors theatrics. Besides the media had generated a lot of terrible PR for the backstabber. So much so that, the jury didn't care that the defence made a fairly strong case of reasonable doubt. there were still unanswered questions. But It seemed like the jury wanted justice served and fast. The media frenzy was probably biasing the jury making them want to buy what the prosecutor was selling. That's the problem with small island nations. You can't get very unbiased jurors. As I was thinking this, a phone started pumping out linkin park in the court house. Thankfully, this time it wasn't mine. Detective. Chase answered it. That's probably the worst thing you could do in court. It's criminal. And on cue, the judge bellowed, " Detective. Shut that phone down or leave the premises.". He answered back, " one moment, your honour." And started walking out. He probably figured he was going to get kicked out anyway. The rest of the trial went as though it was rehearsed a thousand times. And it probably was. The jury found Mr.Norson guilty of all the crimes he'd been accused of. And handed him the death sentence. He would hang in a matter of weeks. Court was adjourned.
I made my way out and found myself walking towards the railway station when I heard a voice call out, " Ms. Watson! Wait up.". I turned to find that detective jogging up to me. Chase. I was curious about him. I tilted my head.
"Yes?", I asked.
" I'm detective chase, I'm in charge of the backstabber investigation", he offered me his hand. I shook it. I thought he looked awfully young to be in charge of a high profile case like the backstabber. But I just nodded, " Yeah, no kidding. I watched you in there.", I told him pointing to the court house.
He smiled sheepishly. But he didn't look embarrassed. " I actually have some troubling news. On the phone back in the court, that was the lab. And they've identified the fourth set of blonde human female hair as belonging to one Ms. Brooks. Do you think we could maybe talk about that?", He inquired.
I began to stagger. " Ms. Brooks?", I laughed a little. This made no sense whatsoever. This was like a terrible joke. It was terrible. So terrible, it was funny. " as in Audrey brooks?" I repeated. The guilt came rushing back. Audrey was my best friend. The one I'd callously ignored in her time of need. I sat down on the pavement. And looked up at the young detective. Still in surprise. Still incredulous.
"Yes. I'm afraid so.", he replied.

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Author's note: Interested in what else is gonna happen to Tara? Come back here next week for chapter two! Please leave your valuable views on this story in the comments section and if you like this story, do give it a vote! It would mean the world to us! This is our first wattpad book and we'd love to hear your feedback! We hope you enjoyed reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it! Thanks for giving us a read! And here's a cookie, just for you guys!