It Wasn't Me

By Rachel Higgs

KATELYN RUTHERFORD, thirty-eight, a driven, attractive, and elegant criminal defense attorney with a passion for the law, made a commitment to the world that she would represent the sickest society could manufacture. Her commitment to herself quickly comes into question when a psychologist, MARKUS RAY LUCY, is taken into custody as a primary suspect in a series of murders in San Francisco, but even after he is in custody, the murders continue.
Among one of the original six murdered is her college dorm mate and best friend, SANDRA WYMACK. Katelyn tries to find the other college Musketeer, Mary Kay Lewis, at a Telegraph Hill address, unsuccessfully, and it later seems that she is missing and potentially another victim. It isn’t until Katelyn’s junior counsel member and dear friend, CAROL DUBOIS, ends up dead across the street from Katelyn’s condo that law enforcement, and later the FBI, start to take a different interest in Katelyn. Determining whether she is in danger or involved becomes the new priority.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel Higgs
• Release date: Sep 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370422258

Book preview

It Wasn’t Me

A Novel by Rachel Higgs

About 66,000 words

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Two traits are essential in a criminal: boundless egoism and a strong destructive urge. Common to both of these, and a necessary condition for their expression, is absence of love and lack of an emotional appreciation of (human) objects.

-Sigmund Freud

A human being rejected by God will at some point become an undomesticated animal.

-Anonymous

If he is to survive this period of vitiation and victimization, at some point prey becomes predator. He ceases suppressing evil thoughts and desires, and simply acts. All of the depravity he endured created a baseline for who he is to become, unzipping the costume of his manufactured world, stepping out and into a reality from which he has been conditioned to distance himself.

Malevolence is his emancipation, his salvation…

Chapter One

Cold, soaked sheets woke Katelyn from her nightmare. The female voice that had haunted her during the long night of terror had morphed into the voice coming from the TV in her kitchen. She pulled the sweaty nightie over her head and tossed it to the floor then rolled over to the other side of her king-sized bed to a dry spot. She listened to what she identified as the news as it drew her from her nightmare fog.

As she focused on the correspondent’s voice, something caught her attention. She cast the sheets and covers from her body and jetted from her bedroom, yanking her waffle iron robe from the back of the closet door on the way to the kitchen. Grabbing the remote from the counter to increase the volume, she watched and listened as the correspondent recounted the details of a suspect’s apprehension, charged with allegedly murdering six people in San Francisco. Across the TV screen a banner flashed Breaking News with the date, May 10, 2013.

"Hi Raj. What we are seeing here is a recap. The suspect was taken into custody last night around 8:30 after police received an anonymous tip about some disturbing paintings in the suspect’s home. While that may not be enough to take him into custody, the anonymous informant claimed the paintings were hung before the murders were mentioned in the papers or broadcast on local news channels. Police say this informant is also believed to be someone that is close to the suspect or has access to the suspect’s home, but they aren’t saying any more at this point. They do admit that while they have this man, Markus Ray Lucy, in custody, this case is still undergoing a full-on investigation, and based on the evidence they have acquired to this point, they have been unable to rule him out as a suspect.

Another thing, Raj. When we pulled up, there was a crowd at the Lucy residence. It seems that these people might have their own access to police scanners. They want to be in the know. Obviously, for some, the curiosity is astounding. The near admirers of this potentially newly discovered psychopath are apparently here for a personal glimpse of a suspected serial killer. Some are here to make sure that they see first hand their city’s killer arrested." the correspondent said.

As the recap continued, the footage showed her cameraman panning away from her over to the large wooden front door of the massive Lucy residence, framed by newly planted lavender. Lucy was cuffed, standing in the capacious opening of his doorway, surrounded by seven officers and two detectives.

The look on his face was that of surprise, but not of shock or fear. He was almost exuberant at the passionate assembly of neighbors, families of the victims, police, and press; not minding those standing on his lawn.

The correspondent continued, One of the reporters here did ask if these paintings were enough to take the suspect into custody and their reply was simply that they could not comment at this time. They just aren’t saying any more. And we understand that the suspect has requested the services of prominent criminal defense attorney Katelyn Rutherford to represent him in these allegations. Back to you, Raj.

A photograph of Katelyn appeared on the TV screen and underneath it, Katelyn Rutherford, criminal defense attorney. It was an older photo taken of her in front of the American flag and the California state seal, back when she passed her bar, ten years ago. Katelyn was convinced they used it just to rile her.

So, the police feel that this man may be responsible for… The anchors were interrupted by continuing footage. Do you have anything to say to the families of the victims? he shouted.

The cameras zoomed quickly in on Lucy’s face; Katelyn stood erect in her kitchen and listened closely. It was obvious to Katelyn that Lucy was empowered by the question. She walked closer to the high definition TV hanging over the bar in her kitchen, and studied him. The people, even the angry ones, needed something from him. They needed an explanation. Katelyn could almost see his pupils dilate in arousal as he drank in the omnipotence.

She found herself mesmerized by Lucy’s demeanor. There was also something about his eyes. They were confident, and bereft of fear. He seemed regal and proud. The element of surprise and the gravity of the situation had been redefined by his perspective. For Markus Ray Lucy, this was not a punishment, but an opportunity—a platform. If I didn’t know any better and with the audio off, he looks like a celebrity under police protection, Katelyn thought.

He looked the correspondent square in the eye, and contorted a smile. The correspondent’s mouth was closed but suddenly opened when Lucy had unexpectedly set his gaze upon him in acknowledgement of his question. The station had juxtaposed Lucy and the correspondent on the screen so that nothing would be missed, but Lucy mouthed words that were undetectable audibly and visually.

The correspondent, along with the support of colleagues now awash in their own curiosity, wanted to have Lucy repeat what he said before being hauled away to jail, but Lucy simply smiled back at his inquisitor and moved willingly and loosely with the officers and detectives.

As he and his escorts approached the sidewalk, the huddled press and incensed onlookers made it nearly impossible for them to pass. They spat at his face and held up photographs of the victims. Lucy’s look said he knew that it was him that they were showing the pictures to; they needed to know why, and only he had the answer.

As the squad door closed, Lucy pressed his face up against the bar-covered window; even with the checkered iron grill across the glass, it took little effort to see his exuberance.

The flashing coming from cameras illuminated his wide-eyed desperation to capture the impassioned emotion coming from the crowd. He watched, twisting his head as far around as possible. He held on to the moment as long as he could even as the pace of the vehicle quickly outran the angry few who chased on foot.

Definitely a different kind of celebrity, thought Katelyn.

Good morning! Do you have that back up save-y feature thing-y on your TV? Did you catch what he said? Katelyn juggled Eggos and coffee and a call with her friend and colleague, Todd.

Good morning to you, too. Nice picture by the way. What is that thing, like seven years old? Todd said, laughing, Jesus!

Ha! Ohmagawd. At least! Katelyn replied.

Um hm. So Carol probably has the footage in slo-mo as we speak, but most of Lucy’s mouth was hidden from camera. Our best bet, at this point, is to see if we can attenuate the surrounding noise to just his voice—that is if he even said anything at all. Todd said.

Carol Dubois, a junior counsel member on Katelyn’s team, had been with Todd and Katelyn almost from the beginning. The trio had tackled hundreds of cases and the time they spent together had made them like family. She was great with the press when Katelyn was unavailable to make a statement.

I know, I know, she replied in a whisper. She walked back toward the TV while stirring her next cup of coffee, noticing the time in the little box the news leaves up on the screen during reporting. Oh! Hey, listen, I’ve got to run! I’m late! I’ll see you in the office.

Yep. Talk to you in a bit. Todd replied with a detectable lightheartedness in his voice.

Todd Remming functioned as Katelyn’s right arm, and had been working on her team for five years. He was exceptionally astute and strikingly handsome, with sandy blonde hair, chiseled face, and hazel eyes. He stood about 6’ 2", and possessed no flare for fashion; he was usually found wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt or some boring button-up—the exception being on days when they were in court; in that department, the Nordstrom’s personal shoppers had guided him flawlessly. He was a bachelor who held a strong affection for Katelyn. There were rumors floating about the firm and elsewhere that Todd hadn’t had a serious relationship because he had been holding out for his one true love—Katelyn. He was her perpetual savior and guardian during some rather risky criminal investigations and cases, and sometimes personally, and that escaped no one.

However, some believed that the idea that Todd would be in love with Katelyn was misguided. The reality was that they were both in love with the job, with law. Being high profile criminal defense attorneys on high profile criminal cases could be euphoric, one of immense power and control. At times, that power could feel so overwhelming it would manifest itself in other ways, such as through flirtation.

That kind of constant excitement, late night hours, superstar status, and non-stop media exposure would have gone to anybody’s head. While these two kept cool on camera, when they were working behind the scenes on a case, the excitement was something neither of them could control. It kept them up for days at a time, according to Carol.

Todd and Katelyn were described as the impenetrable dynamic duo. They clicked the moment they met and they quickly became formidable, preserving freedom for those whom others had so quickly dismissed.

Todd was excited about this case. For him, it was not the typical boring self-defense case. This case was about a hunter, a predator. Truth be told, a case like this would garner him the attention he loved to receive from the fairer sex that came with these high profile cases. Like Katelyn, though, the real thrill was in the hunt for the facts to defend their alleged killer.

After speaking with Todd, Katelyn dashed back into her sleekly designed master bedroom. She stepped into her beige and grey stoned master bath’s steamy shower and was relieved to finally cleanse what had turned into the crystalized salt layer from her body.

The shower jets easily penetrated that salt layer, rinsing her clean. She used her Lady Schick razor to shave her shapely legs. Many women shave the leg to the knee, stop and resume shaving from the knee to the thigh—a two-part process. Katelyn made long strokes, starting at her ankle all the way up her thigh. Once finished, she ejected the used razor onto an unused soap ledge; the razors usually piled up there because a new razor was used every morning. She patted herself dry, as was her ritual, then returned to her closet to finish her lawyerly black and white pinstripe ensemble. She removed the pink curlers from her hair, allowing them to drop into her copper basin, added make-up, earrings, and her Jaeger LeCoultre Reverso two-toned timepiece.

Katelyn grabbed her briefcase and left her penthouse condo overlooking the Embarcadero thoroughfare and the San Francisco Bay. She walked over to the large bay window looking down at the street then up at the Bay Bridge, watching the traffic coming from the East Bay, most likely from Oakland, but much of it from further out. She turned to face the elevator and started rehashing the news coverage of Markus Ray Lucy as she waited for it to reach the fourteenth floor.

Her eyes closed tightly and she tilted her head back, swinging her briefcase back and forth slightly, recalling Lucy’s expressions, his eyes, those happy eyes. The elevator announced its arrival with a ding and Katelyn entered, resuming her fixation.

The morning light welcomed her as she emerged from her building. She was focused on this case, on this man even as, on this beautiful, crisp, sunny morning in San Francisco, the Embarcadero was abuzz with people as they too began their day. She knew she had to get a clip of the coverage from every station in order to view the footage at all available angles. With so many bystanders present, some of them likely captured video with their personal mobile devices, and posted them online. Lucy had said something, and she needed to know what it was. She would also need to ask her new client, Markus Ray Lucy, some additional questions before his arraignment.

The firm, Kenny, Durban, and Rutherford, the highest rated criminal law firm in California, was situated midway on Spear Street between a hotel on the north side and an office building on the south, in the SOMA district of San Francisco.

The firm’s elevators were glass walled, offering beautiful views of the Bay as they ascended and descended. The edifice, blue tinted shatterproof glass, enhanced by the white coral toned sides, marked a contemporary architecture among San Francisco’s most historic structures. The firm occupied the top floor of the building, the sixteenth floor, and had a clear view of AT&T Stadium.

The SOMA district, short for ‘South of Market’ in reference to Market Street, in the past ten years had become the hottest district in the city. New city lofts, restaurants, high-rise office buildings, clubs, gyms, and shops turned this once run down part of the city into the best place for nightlife.

As partner in this popular (and sometimes unpopular) law firm, Katelyn was a driven, attractive, and elegant thirty-eight year old who garnered national attention as the sophisticated illustrious defender of society’s most mentally afflicted.

She earned this celebrity in 2005, defending a woman accused of drowning her three children. The woman drove her white minivan unswervingly down San Francisco’s most misshapen street, Lombard Street, then drove calmly an additional nine blocks toward Pier 23, in the Embarcadero—a very crowded touristy location—and launched the small vehicle into the San Francisco Bay. With the exception of the damage to the flowerpots that lined Lombard’s curves, no other damage and no casualties had been reported. Plenty of footage came pouring into the news stations from tourists who had captured the incident on their smartphones and video recorders.

Why this case received nationwide coverage was not because her brave and patriotic husband was on a tour of duty in Afghanistan during this nightmare, but that her defense was that she was sleep driving on that fateful Tuesday morning.

Katelyn’s client testified under oath that she was able to escape the vehicle when she was abruptly awakened by the cold water that quickly filled my van. She claimed she never knew that her children were in the car until rescue workers pulled the submerged vehicle from the bay and found them in the backseat with their safety belts fastened. Katelyn successfully argued the case, convinced the jury, and exonerated her client.

After graduating from UC Berkeley in 2002, with her J.D. and passing her bar with what some might call flying colors—and that was simply because she passed on the first attempt—she found herself advocating justice now for those whom by society’s standards, were unredeemable.

She had always surmised in her heart that not all accused are guilty of their own volition, but many are victims—mentally and emotionally ill—that society had discarded leaving them ill-equipped to cope in a world that simply wanted them muted. After all, all one had to do was pay attention in order to see who wasn’t right. Society’s most feared predators and tyrants were first the most abused—sexually, mentally, and otherwise. Society’s abandonment of these victims early on had consequences later that were far more damaging and costly.

Katelyn made it a crusade to represent the sickest society could manufacture, and made an unspoken commitment to society that that would be her contribution to the world. She had been a successful court solicitor and had been strongly encouraged to go into the private sector to exercise her dedication. Everyone saw her star power and her beauty, a welcome and unusual combo for a power attorney.

She was certainly striking and fashionable. Her dark brown hair was thick and healthy and settled below her shoulders, she had brown eyes with hints of caramel, contoured brows, a determined nose with a Greek and aquiline blend, and slightly olive skin. She had experienced her share of intrigued crane-neckers.

But Katelyn’s looks were not her only asset and she never considered them. She was immersed in her adoration for the law. She was a diligent self-starter, always in the fight. She never knew what time it was, as motions and pleas kept her busy; her assistant was excellent about keeping track of court dates and meetings. When Katelyn asked for another hour, the hour was like an air mile to a land mile—always just little bit longer. Because of her, the firm coined the term A Lawyer’s Hour.

On her way to work, Katelyn’s concentration had quickly been interrupted by the horrible stench of evaporated urine. She brought her sleeve to her nose for a whiff of men’s cologne from Abercrombie & Fitch (that she took over when she and Brett broke up), and kept it there until she hit the blue tinted glass doors of her firm. It was a longtime morning ritual for businesses and restaurants, along this stretch, to have employees rinse the stench from their sidewalks and doorways.

San Francisco was home to many, including a large homeless population. Because the SOMA area was so flat it was a common resting place for them at night, as well as a convenient toilet. The city thought that building up SOMA would naturally correct the homeless problem, that they would somehow self-deport to a less upscale location, but the transition to better in SOMA left them no where else to go. They could basically disappear during the day, but at night they sought the shelter of doorways.

Hey, Katelyn! Todd ran up from the elevators as soon as she entered the lobby. What are you listening to? Todd grabbed the wire to Katelyn’s earbud.

Jesus it stinks out there! What? Oh. Nothing. Forgot to turn it on. What’s up? Why are you out of breath?

Did you see this? He handed her the San Francisco Chronicle dated Friday, May 10, 2013.

I think my new neighbor has been stealing my morning papers. Katelyn said feeling a little disturbed.

"Huh. That’s not cool. Want me to rough ‘em up for ya, Kay? Todd asked.

"Well, she is about a hundred and ten years old and from China and was told the hallways are common area, which apparently means help yourself to my newspapers. What’s up? Katelyn took the paper from Todd, The SFC? Already? Are you kidding me?" She asked, annoyed.

Well…yeah. Not only that. There’s been another one. Todd looked at Katelyn directly.

What? Katelyn returned his gaze after removing her Jackie-O sunglasses, What do you mean… she asked as she peered down at the paper noting the date, began to read the article under her breath. Amanda White’s body was discovered early this morning, May 10, 2013. They believe that the time of death to be around 2:30 a.m.

Todd interrupted her reading, …you were watching the news while I was on the phone with you… At least five