Vanished

“Do you think it's your wife's fault that your son was kidnapped?” He asked the question as though he expected a verdict, and Malcolm waited just long enough to answer so that everyone thought he was giving one.

“I think it is her fault that Charles Delauney kidnapped him. It is her fault that he holds her responsible for his own son's death, and wanted revenge with mine. It is her fault for bringing him into our lives.” He looked woefully into the courtroom, and at her, but she did not look at him.

“Mr. Patterson, although you feel that to some degree Mrs. Patterson is responsible for …this tragedy, could you ever imagine yourself taking revenge on her in any way? Punishing her, or hurting someone she loved? Hurting her?” He already had, Marielle knew too well. With everything he had done in the past few days, and the way he'd behaved since Teddy was taken, and what he had just said on the stand. It was bad enough to lose her child, but then to be attacked by her husband could have destroyed her as well, but for the moment she was still struggling not to let it. “Could you ever see yourself taking revenge on her, or anyone?” William Palmer repeated, and Malcolm said a single word, as he sat there sounding like God, as his voice rang out in the courtroom.

“Never.”

“Thank you, Mr. Patterson.” He turned to Tom. “Mr. Armour, your witness.”

Tom stood up and said not a word for an interminable moment, and then slowly he began to walk around the courtroom. He walked in front of the jury, and smiled at some of them, almost as though to relax them. And then, finally, he went to stand in front of Malcolm, but he was no longer smiling.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Patterson.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Armour.” Malcolm looked unusually solemn, but Tom Armour seemed extremely relaxed, as the world watched him. It was an intriguing tactic.

“Would you say …” He seemed to draw the words out. “That your marriage to Mrs. Patterson has been a happy one?”

“I'd say so, yes.”

“In spite of her illness …her unreliability …her headaches?”

For a moment, Malcolm wasn't quite sure what to say, but he regained his energy quickly. “They certainly didn't make it easy, but I think I've been happy.”

“Very happy?”

“Very happy.” Malcolm looked annoyed, he couldn't see where the defense attorney was going.

“Have you been married before?”

Malcolm growled and stuck out his chin almost visibly. “Yes. Twice. It's well known.”

“Is Mrs. Patterson aware of that?”

“Of course.”

“Would you say it's hindered your current marriage in any way?”

“Of course not.”

“Would it have bothered you, had you known that Mrs. Patterson was previously married?”

This time he hesitated. “Probably not. But I would have preferred it if she had been honest with me.”

“Of course.” Tom readily agreed with him. “Mr. Patterson, have you ever had any other children?”

“No. Theodore is …was …my only child.”

“You say …was …you no longer believe him to be alive?” Tom looked surprised, as though that seemed unlikely.

“No … I no longer believe him to be alive. I think Mr. Delauney killed him.” He said it to inflame Tom, but it didn't.

“I understand that. But if he is dead …and all of us here certainly hope that's not the case …but if he is …how would you describe that event in your life?”

“Excuse me … I don't understand.”

Tom Armour moved closer to him and looked him straight in the eye. “If your son is dead, Mr. Patterson, how will you feel? What will it do to your life?” The tone of Tom's voice was relentless.

But without hesitation, Malcolm looked back at Tom and answered, “It will finish me …my life will never be the same again.”

“Mr. Patterson, would you say it would destroy you?”

Malcolm hung his head, and nodded before he looked at Tom again. “Of course …he's my only son….”

Tom nodded sympathetically and then moved in a little closer. “It would destroy you, wouldn't it …then why are you so shocked that Mrs. Patterson was almost destroyed by the death of her previous children? Would you expect that to be any different?”

“No, I …” He looked uncomfortable for a moment and John Taylor tightened his lips, but Marielle was forcing herself not to listen. “I imagine that must have been very difficult.'

“She was twenty-one at the time …and five months pregnant …her little boy dies …her father dies a few months later …her own mother commits suicide six months after that …her husband has turned on her, distraught with his own pain over the child's death. What would you do, Mr. Patterson? How would you feel? How well would you hold up?”

“I …I …” He couldn't answer, and the jury looked interested in what Tom was saying.

“Is Mrs. Patterson in the courtroom today?”

“Yes …of course….”

“Would you point her out to me?”

“Your Honor,” William Palmer got to his feet, ready to object to the question, “is this charade necessary?”