Jodie Picoult - Salem Falls

“Okay,” Jordan conceded, “that’s a sticking point.”

“No pun intended?”

“I can’t explain the semen. But that’s not my job. All I have to do is make the jury think for a nanosecond that there might be another explanation for what happened that night, other than rape. And the victim’s credibility is called into question if we prove that her recollections are drug-impaired.”

“Still, Jordan,” Selena argued, “it’s not like there are occult suppliers on Main Street. Belladonna’s a poison. It isn’t easy to come by.”

“She could have substituted another hallucinogenic drug.”

Selena snorted. “From the local pharmacy?”

“From the high school dealer,” Jordan corrected, and then smiled slowly. “Or from Daddy.”

It took three and a half hours for the Reverend Marsh to leave the house, three and a half hours that Addie spent sitting behind a small clot of hydrangea in the front yard. She waited until he had driven off in his Buick and then she knocked on the door.

“You lied,” Addie said, the minute Catherine Marsh opened it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You didn’t have a relationship with Jack St. Bride. You never slept with him. I don’t know why, Catherine, and I don’t know how, exactly, but you somehow got this rumor started and managed to ruin his life.”

“He told me . . . he told me . . .”

“He didn’t tell you anything he wouldn’t have told any other student.”

Catherine started to protest but then crumbled. There was no other word for it-the edges of her mouth waffled in, her eyes drifted shut, and all her bravado collapsed. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she whispered. “My father . . . he found birth control pills in my underwear drawer, and it made him crazy. Then he found my diary . . . and read that, too.” Catherine swallowed. “It was only pretend. I mean, we all had crushes on Coach. When my boyfriend broke up with me . . . Coach took extra care to make sure I was okay, to let me cry on his shoulder. I pretended it was because he liked me, you know, that way, a little. So I wrote about him. I wrote about us.”

“Fiction,” Addie said, to clarify, and Catherine nodded miserably. “And when your father went to the police? Did you ever think that maybe you ought to tell them?”

“I did. But they all thought I was just trying to keep him out of jail because I loved him.” She dashed a tear from her cheek. “When I was lying, they hung on every word. And when I told the truth, no one listened.”

“Catherine-”

“I am so ashamed,” the girl whispered. “I am so sorry I did this to him.”

Addie fought for control. “Then help him now.”

“You’re the last guy I expected to see,” Charlie said, holding the door open so that Jordan could walk inside.

“That’s because I’m not here as an attorney,” Jordan answered. “Just as a dad.”

Charlie invited Jordan to sit down on a floral couch with an afghan hanging over the back. “That’s right. I forget you have a kid.”

“Bad news, I guess.” Jordan grinned. “We defense lawyers can procreate.”

That surprised a laugh out of Charlie. “Your boy’s in, what? His freshman year?”

“Yeah.” Jordan could feel himself sweating through the back of his short-sleeved polo shirt. He had absolutely no proof of what he was about to tell Charlie-this was a pure hunch, one that he hoped would prey on the detective’s parental sensibilities and net Jordan a windfall. Short of this white lie, he didn’t know how else to confirm his intuitions. “Charlie, first things first. This is all off the record, all right?”

The detective nodded slowly.

“My son-Thomas-has been seeing Chelsea Abrams.”

“Oh?” Charlie said easily. “She’s a sweet kid.”

“Yeah. Well, he certainly thinks so, anyway.” They both laughed. “This is a little awkward, Charlie,” Jordan said, exhaling heavily. “Thomas came home with some information I thought I should pass along.”

At that, Charlie sat up, immediately alert.

“Chelsea said that the night the girls were in the woods, they were doing drugs.”

Charlie didn’t move a muscle. “My daughter doesn’t . . . she wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t think so. And you have to know, given our circumstances right now, this was about the last thing I figured you’d want to hear from me. But as a father-well, hell, if someone knew that about Thomas, I’d want to be told.” He stood, wary of overstaying his welcome. “It’s probably a misunderstanding.”

“Probably.” Charlie led the way out of the house. He watched the lawyer walk down the slate path that led to the driveway. “Jordan.”

For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other.

“Thank you,” Charlie said.

As laboratory technician, Arthur Quince had enough trouble trying to keep afloat at Duncan Pharmaceuticals without investigators coming along to foul up the rhythm of his day. Especially investigators who arrived with a light in their eyes, intent on linking your place of business to a crime. First the rape of his boss’s daughter, and now a drug case right here in Salem Falls? What was this world coming to?

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to help you,” Arthur told Selena Damascus. “On any given week, we might be making six drugs at a time.”

“Like which six?”

Jesus, the woman was like a dog with a bone. Arthur punched up records on his computer and pointed to the screen. “Recently, we’ve been making fentanyl citrate, lidocaine hydrochloride, and phenobarbital sodium.”

“What about before that?”

He scrolled up to the previous three-week period, starting the week of April 24. “Acyclovir, pemoline, risedronate, and atropine were in various stages of production.”

“Are any of those hallucinogens?”

“We’re not in the habit of making drugs that are sold on the street.”

“I understand. That’s why it’s imperative that Duncan Pharmaceuticals be ruled out as the source of the substance we’re investigating.” Selena lowered her voice. “Look, Dr. Quince, I don’t think you guys are responsible. But you find something like this in the halls of Salem Falls High . . . in the same town where there’s a pharmaceutical company . . . well, to cover all of our own asses, if you’ll excuse my language, we have to just make sure we’re not talking about the same stuff.” She turned her attention to the screen again. “How come that one has a star next to it?”

Arthur looked where she was pointing. “Duncan Pharmaceuticals is introducing a new homeopathic line-prescription drugs derived from all-natural sources instead of chemical ones. The atropine was one of the drugs in that focus group.”

Selena hiked herself up on a stool beside him. “Natural sources? Where does it come from?”

“The belladonna plant.”

“Belladonna?”

“That’s right. You’ve probably heard of it. It’s extremely poisonous.”

“Can you overdose on it?”

Immediately, Arthur bristled. “Almost any drug on the market has adverse effects, Ms. Damascus.”

“What would some of these adverse effects be?”

“Confusion. Agitation.” Arthur sighed. “Delirium.”

“Delirium? So it is a hallucinogen.”

At that moment, Amos Duncan entered the lab. Noticing Selena, he did a double take. He’d seen her around town, certainly, but because Selena had known better than to try to talk to Amos directly, there was no way he’d know she was there on Jordan’s behalf. “Arthur,” he boomed, walking toward them. “I need to speak to you.”

“Ms. Damascus was just leaving,” Arthur hurried to explain. “She’s here gathering information for a drug case.”