Randy Singer - By reason of insanity

"I think so."

"Good," Catherine said, speaking a little louder and more confidently. "Some people think I'm some kind of medium because I have these visions. Well… that's pretty ridiculous if you know me. But I am a good judge of character. I see strength in your eyes and a great deal of love for your mom. She needs you to be strong now; do you know that?"

Sierra nodded, keeping her eyes on the screen.

"Your Uncle Quinn's going to win that case, Sierra, and your mom is doing better in jail than I am. She's a lot stronger. A lot more together. But she's counting on you to do your part and be strong too. Can you do that?"

Sierra shrugged. "I guess so."

The response seemed noncommittal, but Quinn sensed a whole lot more going on. He could almost see willpower flowing from Catherine to Sierra, from one victim to another. While listening to Catherine talk so convincingly about forgiveness and strength of character, it was hard to continue thinking of her as a deranged psychotic. At the start of the conversation, she had seemed to fit the mold. But now, she just looked like a wounded victim. Maybe that was the whole point-two personalities in one body.

"I'm sorry I sound so dramatic," Catherine said. "Next time, we can just talk about American Idol or something. I get to watch a lot of TV in here."

"I hope my uncle wins your case," Sierra said.

"I'm sure he will," Catherine said, stealing a quick glance at Quinn. "If he can keep his client under control."

In the morning, Quinn and Sierra checked out of the Hilton and drove around for about ten minutes to make sure they weren't being followed. Eventually they headed into downtown Norfolk, parked the car, and walked over to the Waterside complex, a collection of shops and restaurants bordering the Elizabeth River.

They walked through the Waterside, taking in the odor of french fries and Mongolian barbeque and New York style pizza. They continued out the back door of the complex, found a spot on a concrete bench, and watched the seagulls bother a mom and a few toddlers who were trying to eat ice cream. Sierra laughed, and Quinn thought about how much he would miss her.

A few minutes later, Rosemarie Mancini showed up, looking stylish in jeans, a pullover, sandals, and sunglasses.

Quinn bent over to hug Rosemarie, then watched as Sierra and Rosemarie embraced. Rosemarie had developed quite a rapport with Quinn's niece during their counseling sessions after Sierra's suicide attempt. If nothing else, they enjoyed picking on Quinn together.

Quinn had decided he needed to get Sierra out of Vegas, at least temporarily. He needed her someplace far away, someplace Hofstetter's goons wouldn't suspect. It was actually Rosemarie who first suggested that Sierra stay with her. Sierra would be safe with Rosemarie. Plus, the psychiatrist claimed to know a number of middle school girls from her church who could be counted on to befriend Sierra. The fact that Rosemarie could provide some informal counseling was a bonus.

The Quinn Newberg from a few months ago-or even a few weeks ago-would have jumped at the chance to get his apartment back to himself. But something was different now. He was already starting to miss Sierra, just thinking about flying back to Vegas without her.

Sierra would attend summer school under an assumed name while living in D.C. with Rosemarie. Quinn would return to Virginia Beach a few times each month, meet with Catherine, and drive the four hours to D.C. to spend the day with Sierra. One of the hardest things had been convincing Sierra to go the entire summer without visiting her mom in jail. But Annie had insisted, refusing to even cry until after Sierra had left.

Quinn, Rosemarie, and Sierra talked for a few minutes while they watched the Norfolk-Portsmouth ferry land at the wooden dock. Quinn had his left arm on the back of the bench behind Sierra, psychologically protecting his niece for the last time in a couple of weeks. He'd had no idea it would be this hard to let her go.

"We'd better get going," he eventually said. "This isn't getting any easier."

The three stood and Sierra gave him a long hug, squeezing so tight he thought he might have to pry her hands away.

"I love you, Uncle Quinn," she said.

Quinn felt tears coming but managed to choke them back.

"I love you, too," he said. "But this is the best thing for the next few months." Quinn gave her a kiss on top of her head, and Sierra ended the embrace.

Quinn watched with a knot in his stomach as Sierra and Rosemarie walked away. Just before they disappeared into the Waterside complex, Sierra turned and waved, her sad eyes telling Quinn that this hurt her as much as it did him.

After they left, Quinn sat back down and soaked up the loneliness, his heart aching as if a family member had died. It is the right thing to do, he reminded himself. He had to prepare for two major trials. Hofstetter was after him and maybe after Sierra. And Sierra needed a strong female figure in her life.

But none of that chased away the loneliness. Sierra had only been gone a few minutes, and he missed her desperately already. She had only been with him a week, but it was hard to imagine life without her.

The ringing of Quinn's cell phone eventually broke the stupor.

It was Marc Boland.

"The media outlets have found out about Catherine's rape," Marc told Quinn. "Kenny Towns will hit every talk show possible, today and tomorrow, denying that the rape ever occurred. The armchair psychiatrists in the media will say the prosecutors now have a motive for the Avenger's killings."

"Then why didn't she just go after Kenny?" Quinn asked. It was the question that had bothered him about this scenario from the beginning. If Catherine really was the Avenger, even Catherine in a different personality, did it make any sense that she wouldn't avenge the one violent act that had hurt her the most? "Why go through this elaborate Avenger of Blood scenario?"

"Maybe she was saving Towns for last," Marc replied. "Who knows? I'm not saying they're right; I'm just telling you what they're going to say. Which leads to my next question: did you make any headway getting Catherine to change her plea?"

"She's thinking about it."

"If she pleads insanity, the rape will actually work in our favor as a reason for her fractured personality," Marc said, as if Quinn needed to be reminded. "You ready to take half the interviews?"

"Not really," Quinn said. "I'm leaving first thing tomorrow to head back to Vegas."

"Good," Marc said, ignoring Quinn's actual answer. "Why don't you take the cable stations and radio? I'll take the broadcast TV stations."

Quinn sighed as he took out a legal pad and pen. "Give me the phone numbers."

Catherine ate lunch quickly and went to her cell to read. The other inmates in her pod congregated at the metal tables, finishing their lunches or playing cards or arguing about anything and everything. Tasha and another woman had pulled a mattress from somebody's cell into the open area and now alternated between sit-ups on the mattress and push-ups with their feet elevated on the benches of the metal tables. All the while, the TV blabbered on as the trustee in charge of the television surfed the channels.

When Catherine heard shouting and catcalls from the pod, she looked out to see most of the inmates glued to the TV. The level of noise had dropped by several decibels.

"Get out here, O'Rourke!" Tasha shouted.

Catherine put down her book and shuffled warily out of the cell. The last thing she needed to see was another "update" about her case.

…

She stopped in her tracks just outside her cell door. On the screen, big as life, was the face that had haunted her nightmares for years. Kenny Towns was eight years older now but looked exactly the same. Shorter haircut. A more professional bearing. But the same arrogant smirk.