Robert Browne - Trial Junkies

"People have been convicted for less," Tom said. "Look at the West Memphis Three."

"Yeah? Well that's just sad. If there's anything this whole ordeal has taught me, it's that we can't just look at this guy and think he's guilty, even if he's a little strange, and even if he has been stalking me. I mean, why would he kill Jenny of all people? Why not me?"

"Because he thought he was protecting you," Hutch said.

This brought the conversation to a halt. More exchanged glances as everyone processed Hutch's words, which were the product of an epiphany that had hit him only milliseconds before they were spoken.

"Maybe Langer is an industrial strength stalker," he continued. "Maybe he has some of the same resources Matt does. Knows all about your son, the custody battle, Jenny's law firm. He might even have been there when you talked to her about it at the Godwyn. And, who knows, maybe he's the one who made those infamous phone calls."

"What?"

"Meyer testified that most of them came from the Dumont Hotel house phone. He could have disguised his voice somehow, pretended he was you."

"But why ?"

"Maybe he thought he was doing you a favor. Helping you out."

"Maybe, maybe, maybe," Ronnie said, then took a breath and scanned their faces. "Look, guys, I really appreciate what you're all trying to do. You'll never know how much it means to me. And, believe me, I want to believe he's our guy. More than anything. But when it comes down to it, you've got nothing on Langer other than he's a fruitcake. And, I'm sorry, as much as I'd like it to be true, it just doesn't translate to guilty."

They were all silent again, Hutch thinking about this and realizing she was right. And despite her situation, despite what had to be utter desperation at a time like this, if Ronnie was unwilling to make the leap, then maybe they should listen.

But that feeling of certainty wouldn't go away.

The creep was the culprit. He was almost sure of it. And it didn't really matter to him what Ronnie thought. This was about Jenny. His Jenny.

And Frederick Langer had slaughtered her.

"Okay," he said, trying to tamp down the rage that was once again building inside. "We don't have any evidence against him. But what if we could get some?"

"And how do you propose we do that?" Tom asked.

"There are six of us and one of him. We could tag team the guy, follow him in shifts. Find out where he lives, what he does in his spare time, where the hell he came from. And we can question some of the prosecution's witnesses, Jenny's colleagues, and see if they recognize Langer." He looked at Ronnie. "There's never been any mention of the murder weapon-the knife. Did they find one?"

She shook her head. "They practically tore my mom's house apart looking for one, but Waverly says they don't need it to convict me."

"So if Langer is our guy, what if he still has it? Maybe it's in his home, wherever that is." He turned to Matt. "You've read the discovery files. Was there any mention of Jenny missing something? A necklace, a watch, maybe? The guy might have taken a trophy."

"Not that I know of," Matt said, "but I can check."

"Good. And if we find that…"

Ronnie moved away from the window now. "Come on, Hutch, we're not cops, for godsakes. And if Langer really is dangerous, someone could get hurt."

"Do you want me to tell the cops, then?"

"They wouldn't believe you. They think they already have their killer."

"What about Waverly?"

Ronnie laughed. "She has enough to worry about right now. No offense, but I highly doubt she'd be very receptive to the whims of a movie star and his old college pals, even if you are footing the bill."

Hutch turned to the others. "What about the rest of you? What do you think? Should we do this?"

"Hell yeah," Andy said. "Count me in."

"Me, too," Matt said.

Hutch looked at Monica and Tom, and each of them nodded in turn, adding a yes to the chorus.

Then Gus also nodded, saying, "I know I'm the outsider here, and I tend to agree with Ronnie-you can't judge a horse by its harness. But in this case, I think you may be right. I'd like to make it seven, if you'll let me."

Hutch smiled.

"Seven it is," he said.

"I'm not a fool," Ronnie told him, after the others were gone. "I know you aren't doing this for me."

Hutch stood at the windows, watching the headlights streak along Lakeshore Drive. Over his objections, Ronnie had insisted on cleaning up the mess on the dining table and was now wiping her hands with a dish towel as she approached him. Her mother and son wouldn't be moving in until tomorrow, so it was just the two of them tonight.

Hutch looked at her reflection in the glass and pulled himself from his thoughts of Jenny. He had once again been wallowing in his guilt over how he'd left it with her.

Where were you, Ethan?

Why didn't you return my calls?

After things went bad, after he'd fled college for what he'd hoped would be a better life-a more exciting one, at least-he had still believed that somewhere down the line he would see her again. Even after he'd failed to contact her, and that bullet train of a decade rocketed past, he had never for a moment thought that he'd be standing here in his childhood home, mourning her loss.

Ronnie moved up alongside him. "I know it's about Jenny," she said. "I think about all those years living in that house and how I used to look at the two of you on nights like this, curled up on the sofa as we all watched a movie." She shook her head. "God, how I envied her."

Hutch wasn't sure how to respond to this.

"You were the magic couple," Ronnie went on. "The two who got it right while the rest of us were stumbling through a post-adolescent haze."

"But we didn't get it right," Hutch said. "Not in the end. Not me, at least."

He thought about his parents' funeral, when Jenny had come to pay her respects. He had known she was there, but with the paparazzi hovering, he had left the church as soon as the service was over, and he hadn't looked back.

"I'm talking quality, Hutch. And intensity. Maybe too much intensity. Maybe that's what scared you away."

He shot her a look, surprised by her sudden insight. "You're psychoanalyzing me now?"

"I don't have a right to be psychoanalyzing anyone . I can barely hold it together myself. But I know a kindred spirit when I see one. I know you've probably spent a lot of time trying to figure out who the hell you are, always afraid that you'll be a disappointment to the people around you. People like Jenny."

He took a breath. "Careful, doc, you're cutting a little too deep."

"What can I say? I spent a lot of time in a jail cell thinking about this stuff. About how scared we all are-every single one of us. Only some of us disguise it better than others."

"And some of us bury it with booze and drugs."

He had once again been thinking about finding a bar, or drinking the leftover Double Diamond in the fridge. It was getting increasingly harder to resist.

One sip, Hutch.

One tiny little sip.

Ronnie reached over and took hold of his hand. "I'm so sorry she's gone. And if I can help you stop thinking about her for a while, it would be the least I could do."

He faced her now, looking into her dark eyes, seeing what he hadn't seen all those years ago, what he'd noticed at the The Monkey House the night she was arrested.

Just how beautiful she truly was.

He wanted to lean down and kiss her. But he couldn't. Not like this. Not with Jenny still on his mind.

"Let me help you," she said. "Like you've helped me. You can pretend I'm her if you want-I don't care. God knows I've pretended enough with other men."