Chapter 1

The Montague bar on Capsulate Street was crowded on a Saturday night. When Sergeant Kathryn Keenan and Officer James Lefave of the Tyler County Sheriff's patrol walked in, it was 12:30 a.m. Both officers were in a somber mood. They had just come from Dennis Morgan's home where his wife Desi Morgan and her lover Scott Tillman had been assaulted. Tillman, a six foot three ski pro at the local resort had been expertly kneecapped with a heavy object, a small weighted Tee Ball bat by the victim's description. Desi had been vaginally raped with the small end of the same bat. There was a lot of blood.

Kathryn, an extremely well-built woman who stood several inches over six feet, had one hand on her service Glock and the other on her nightstick. Jim Lefave, a tall beanpole of a man, was six four with a head of bright red hair reflecting his Irish heritage, despite the French origin of his last name. Jim was a local boy. Kate was a New York City girl. She was a five-year veteran of the New York City police force who had taken the job with Tyler County to get away from her ex-husband, his family, and sadly her family. She had an eight-year-old son Thomas Sullivan, Jr. Who missed his father although he had rarely seen Thomas Senior when they lived in the south before the move. Kathryn's ex was a man who worked in his family's construction business when he wasn't' chasing women. Between the two he found little time for his son.

The Montague had a bad reputation with the road patrol. The old timers could remember the place from before Denny Morgan had taken it over. It had started life as a college bar in the 1960's before the drinking age was raised to 21. After that, it became a biker bar, a raw hard drinking kind of place where fights, drugs and prostitution were all on the menu. Now it was a place where older students mixed with bikers and anyone else who enjoyed the slightly wild atmosphere, the decent food, and moderately priced beer. The hookers and drugs were gone and Denny, as Dennis was known to everyone, could cool hot tempers before things got out of hand. Kathryn walked up to one of the two barmaids and asked for Dennis Morgan. The woman who Kathryn believed was called Lottie paused, not at first realizing that Kate was asking for Denny.

"Last booth in the back," Lottie answered.

Denny was a small man, maybe five six but with a husky built. He habitually wore a blue sports jacket and a red and blue striped regimental tie with a light colored dress shirt. On his right hand was his Cornell Law School ring. Denny was by profession a lawyer, and he kept a small law office even though his principal occupation was tavern owner. He was excessively proud of having graduated from Cornell Law School. He had worked very hard to get his law degree since his widowed mother had spent all of the family's college fund on his older sister's medical degrees. Denny had worked his way through school, including summers as a bartender at the Montague.

Kathryn briskly walked up to Denny in the back booth, her wide hips swaying provocatively despite her best efforts to prevent them. Denny was almost hidden in the booth. Only his arms and hands showed until you were right in front of him. But he could see the whole bar from where he sat.

"Dennis Morgan," Kate asked.

Denny merely nodded his head.

"Please stand, you are under arrest."

Denny stood up. Kate began to hook him up, to place handcuffs on his wrists.

"Kate!" James said nervously behind her.

"What?" she said, turning her head slightly to look at her partner as she closed the cuffs on Denny's hands.

As she turned, she saw the problem. The bar that had been filled with happily inebriated people a moment ago was now stirring into a hostile crowd. As she turned more fully, she saw two very big, angry-looking bikers coming towards them from the bar. They were truly huge men, and she was debating in her mind — stick or gun and leaning toward gun —when Denny stepped around her in front of them. Denny raised his cuffed hands to calm the crowd.

Earlier that evening Denny had stepped between the two bikers when they were squared off and preparing to 'kick the shit' out of each other. As the men had squared off, the bartender had reached beneath the bar for the bar-bat, a small child-size Tee Ball bat filled with lead shot. In the right hands, the bar-bat was a formidable and possibly lethal weapon. But Denny had moved quicker and gotten between the two men, who towered over him.

He'd placed his hands on their chests and said rather sarcastically "Don't make me hurt you guys."

The line brought the general laughter he had intended. Denny followed up with a funny involved story about his physical prowess, making himself the butt of the punch line of the tale. By that point, the bar was buried in laughter. Denny got the two combatants to have a free drink on him, and the argument was soon replaced by the two men sharing drinks together.

Now as Denny held up his hands the bar went silent.

"Please, please," Denny said. "These officers are just making what is clearly a false arrest. As most of you know, I am an attorney. Therefore, I know that such an arrest can lead to a big payday. Now considering the pitiful price of beer in this place I can use any cash that comes my way even if I have to go to jail to get it."

The bar crowd broke into laughter and cheers of "You get 'em Denny",

And "Just like a lawyer," and, "Some people have all the luck."

Kate and Jim used the momentary conviviality to get Denny out of the barroom and into the street.

"Thanks, Denny," Jim said once they were outside.

Kathryn gave Jim a withering look and pushed Denny to the side of the Sheriff's brown and white SUV parked by the curb. She patted Denny down for weapons, noticing as she did that he had a hard muscular body concealed by his loose clothing. After the pat-down, she helped him into the back seat of the patrol vehicle. When she was seated behind the wheel with Jim riding shotgun, she read Denny his rights.

"Did you understand what I read to you, Mr. Morgan?"

"Yes, but can I ask a question."

"Of course?"

"Why am I being arrested?"

Kathryn frowned at him. "You know why," she said.

"No, I don't," Denny replied.

"Assault and rape," Jim said.

"What, who, and when?" Denny asked.

"Your wife and Scott Tillman earlier this evening," Jim replied.

"You're saying, my wife Desi was attacked? And who is this Tillman?"

"Alright play it any way you want Mr. Morgan, but you are getting locked up. No more questions, "Kate said and started the car heading for the County Jail.

At the Jail, they confiscated Denny's clothes for evidence and gave him an orange jumpsuit. He called his lawyer Tony Abrouso, the most respected criminal attorney in the area, and got him on the case. Kathryn figured Denny could use the best, as she was confident Dennis Morgan was looking at a long sentence. Her confidence began to slacken the following morning when she escorted Denny to the hearing held in Judge Platt's home office.

The senior County Judge held the hearing from behind a big oak desk in his study. Judge Platt began by saying hello to everyone including Denny and then let Patricia Stone, the part-time assistant district attorney, argue strenuously for the setting of a high bail. Patricia was a pretty petite young woman, but Kathryn had seen her in action several times before. Pat was no push over. When she was done, Tony Abrouso began to speak, but Judge Pratt stopped him.

"Denny, you undertake to show up to answer these charges," Judge Pratt asked.

"Yes, your Honor," Denny answered.

"Good enough for me. You are released on your own recognizance and prohibited from coming within 200 feet of the ALLEGED victims," Pratt said, getting up and thereby signaling that the hearing was over.

"What just happened?" Kathryn fumed.

"You arrest the most beloved man in the County and you expected they would give you a medal?" Patricia said.

This was the beginning of the downhill slide as far as Kathryn was concerned. A search of Denny Morgan's car, home, law office, and, of course, the Montague, turned up only the bar-bat. Kathryn was, however, sure they would find blood traces and other evidence on Denny's clothing and the bat. This would be the evidence they needed to confirm the witnesses' testimony. Both Desi Morgan and Tillman had positively identified Denny as the man who had brutally assaulted them. The problem that arose very quickly was the reliability of the witnesses. Kathryn found it hard to believe, but the universal opinion was that Desi and Tillman were lying. This opinion was held by most of the sheriff's office.

"Jim how can you believe that?" Kathryn asked her partner.

"Those two are no good. You want me to take the word of a whore and her asshole boyfriend over a decent man. A guy who when we came to arrest him saved our asses, or have you forgotten? Jim said.

"No, but we have two witnesses."

"Yea, a slut who spreads for everyone and her sleazy boyfriend. Who is this Tillman character? Some ski bum here for a season hoping to strike it rich bedding a wealthy man's wife. I hear he was bragging all about it to his ski bum friends," Jim said.

"We were the first responders on the scene. You saw the condition that the woman was in, and no man does that to his own leg. Certainly not an athlete. He may never be able to use that leg again," she said.

"All I'm saying is those two can't be trusted," Jim said.

Kathryn could only shake her head and wait for the Lab Report from the State Lab. As a woman who had suffered abuse herself, she sympathized with Desi. She did not condone infidelity but saw no reason men should be allowed to play around while women were expected to be saints. Her fellow officers including the female officers saw her attitude as being unduly influenced by her sex.

"I can't believe it, this has got to be incorrect," Kathryn said.

"Told you," said Jim

The report back from the State Lab showed no blood on the bat taken from the bar or the clothing worn by Denny Morgan.

Kathryn was shaken, but it got worse. Moments later she was called to Under Sheriff Ferguson's office.

Jack Ferguson was old school. If he had his way, no female would work road patrol. There was one exception to that belief, Miss Kitty, as they called Sergeant Kathryn Keenan behind her back. Sergeant Keenan was the equal of any man he had. She was as strong as the average man and she was quicker and smarter in tight places. Even the best of men can lose it when things get tight, but Keenan was cool under fire. She was also the best shot he had.

Kathryn was the perfect officer and the worst pain in the ass he had ever known. She would not tolerate sloppy work by those beneath her. She worked so hard to toe the line herself she made everyone else nervous. When you add to her other problems her difficulty dealing with the more amorous of the male gender she was a colossal pain. Most men were intimidated by her size and physical presence, but males wearing a uniform often saw only a challenge. Her consistent rejection of every male advance had not made her popular, and in fact it had led to the rumor she was gay. This further isolated her from her colleagues.

As she walked into his office, Ferguson was once again struck by the sheer beauty of his Amazon of a subordinate. Tall for a woman with tits that entered the room well before the rest of her. With a stomach flatter than any man's in the department. Her red-blond hair cut short in a style that suited her and flattered her oval face, with its emerald green eyes. But it was those hips that got you. They moved like an invitation to a host of unnatural acts. On every other woman, the uniform was at best unflattering, but on Kathryn it was just this side of obscene. When the average citizen looked at Sergeant Keenan, they thought she was a stripper on her way to a gig.

Ferguson could only shake his head. Her nickname was demeaning, but it fit. She had the disposition of a cat, stubborn and unpredictable. He knew she had decided that Denny Morgan was guilty and that no amount of evidence to the contrary would suffice to dissuade her.

"I have nothing to do with it. The DA made the decision not to prosecute all by his lonesome," Jack said before Kate could get a word out.

"Doesn't he understand that this guy has the only motive for what is a brutal assault and rape? This looks so bad like we gave him special treatment," She said.

"You need to learn that we are only the investigators. The prosecution is the job of the DA," he said.

That settled it as far as Jack was concerned, but he was sure that Kate would not let it rest. As she walked from his office, he was sure the DA would be hearing from Sergeant Keenan.

Amanda had been the DA's secretary through three administrations. She knew her job was to screen those who wanted to see the DA. The office of the prosecutor in the State's smallest County was pretty much a one man job. There were two part-time assistants, Patricia Stone and Thomas Harder, but the day-to-day office of DA was Amanda, Frank, and Charlie Coffey, the investigator, clerk, and Guy Friday.

"Go right in -- he's expecting you," Amanda said on seeing Kathryn.

Frank Simon had his lunch on his desk and was settling in to eat it, a mixed Italian sub with extra dressing. Frank had gained a few pounds since becoming DA two years before. Papers and books were scattered about the office. Kathryn had to remove some from a chair to sit down.

Frank Simon's appearance and his untidy office did not exactly inspire confidence, but Kathryn had seen him in action. He was a very good prosecutor and perfectly capable of winning a weak case. The fact that he was not willing to even make an attempt in the Morgan matter irked her.

"Mr. Simon sir, I think you have not been appraised of how serious the injuries suffered by Desdemona Morgan and Scott Tillman are—" she began.

"Stop," Frank said, and with a small sigh put aside his lunch and from the morass on his desk pulled a flexible brown folder.

The DA laid his Morgan folder before Kate and said, "Go ahead open it. What we have here are thirty-three witness statements all freely given to Charlie Coffey attesting to the whereabouts of Dennis Morgan between 7:00 p.m. and about 12:30 p.m. when he was arrested by two Sheriff's officers. The best estimate is the crime was committed between 10:00 and 10:30 p.m.

Kate opened the file and began looking at the statements. They were from each of the Montague employees except the kitchen staff, the last of whom had left before 9:30, a half hour after the kitchen closed. There were statements from the bar patrons about where Denny was all that evening, and how he had stopped the fight around 10:30.

"These are all from his employees and friends. They could be lying to protect him. The barmaid Lottie says she refilled his coffee cup every half hour all night long. But there are only two barmaids when I was in there making the arrest, and they were busy as hell. She could not have been pouring coffee that often," Kate said.

"Go to the last affidavit and read it."

"I was in the Montague from 7 p.m. until 10:30. I eat dinner there every Saturday night since my wife died. I like to watch the sports on the seventy inch TV. I am familiar with Denny Morgan having known him for his entire life. He always wears his Cornell Law School ring. He is only one of two lawyers in the County who attended Cornell, and I know the other does not wear her school ring.

Denny Morgan was seated in the back boot when I arrived at 7 p.m. and he remained there while I ate dinner and watched the Yankees play. When the game ended I finished my beer and left a bit after 10:30. I could see Denny's Cornell ring the entire time I was there.

Signed: Edward Reagan, Retired Justice, New York Supreme Court Appellate Division."

Kate looked up at Frank, "Judge Regan?" She said.

"Yea the most respected man in this part of the state, and the most honest man I have ever known. You want me to go before a jury with him ready to take the stand saying the Defendant could not have done it. And oh, by the way, there are another thirty-some witness that say the same. Add to that the alleged victims filed a multimillion dollar lawsuit yesterday. Money is always a rather a good motive to lie

"So there's my case, the word of two greedy adulterers against the word of good Judge Regan and God knows how many others before a jury of Denny Morgan's friends and neighbors. I would not only lose the trial I would lose my job. Remember, Denny ran against me last time, and I only won because that Tea Party style Political Committee came in with a bunch of negative ads right at the end. Yes, I condemned that Committee, but it won me the election. I wish I didn't feel so guilty about it, but it did provide me more incentive to do the job to the best of my ability.

"If I prosecute Denny I will look like a vindictive SOB, who not only ran a dirty campaign but used his office against his opponent. People don't like that. I don't like that. But I do like Denny Morgan and if Ed Regan says he didn't do it that is good enough for me," Frank Simon reached for his lunch. "Now if I may I would like to go back to this great sandwich," he said.

Another officer might have given up when confronted by the solid alibi that Dennis Morgan seemed to have developed without any effort, but not Kathryn. She knew he was guilty. It was a matter of finding the evidence to prove it. That smug little man might think he had gotten away with it, but he wasn't counting on the relentless Sergeant Keenan.

Kathryn lived in a cute little two bedroom Cape on the northeast side of town. As a single parent raising a son, she had all the usual difficulties plus the rotating schedule of the road patrol. She worked ten days on and four days off, on alternating day and night shifts. It was a tough schedule with a child. If your spouse helps with child care, it's a lot easier. But that was never the case when Tom Senior had been in the picture.

Her ex had been a spoiled young man, more a boy who never grew up. They'd had Tommy because his doting parents wanted grandchildren, But Tom Senior was no father. The baby put a crimp on their nights out, and her insistence on working meant there was little time for them to be a couple without the baby. Kate soon realized her spouse was cheating. There were too many late nights when he came home smelling of booze, perfume, and sex. That's when the fighting started. Kate was a big woman and strong physically in ways that women aren't normally, but she was no match for Tom Sullivan's right fist.

The physical pain was bad, but nothing compared to the humiliation of a police officer reporting for work with a black eye and bruises. Everyone seemed to know who had inflicted the injuries. Another woman might have garnered sympathy, but Kathryn was too imposing physically to expect or accept the sympathy of others.

The ironic thing was that she felt like a scared little girl who wanted to run home to her family, but her mother, father, sisters, and brothers all sided with her husband. Tom Sullivan was not just rich and handsome, he had the Devil's own charm. He had a quick tongue and all the sweet words to go with it. He was sorry and he was provoked. Kate was a bit of a shrew, always at him about working late. She was jealous and tried to wear the pants. He always had an excuse ready, and the worst part was that he believed his own deceits.

Experts would have said that Tom Sullivan was a classic example of a domestic abuser. In public a loving husband and victim of an unsympathetic spouse, but at home a bit worse for the drink, an abusive and violent man. Kate came to know Tom Sullivan as a cheating, selfish, and immature individual with no impulse control. The kind of man no intelligent woman would stay married to.

Still, Kate forgave him twice for beating her. She knew this was two chances too many, but she did it for her son's sake. She walked after the third beating. It was either that or pull her service issue automatic the next time, and she was determined not to kill her son's father. There followed four years of hell. Everyone was on his side. He was required to pay child support but failed to pay.