The Accused and the Damned: Book Three, the Eddie McCloskey Series (The Unearthed 3) by Evan Ronan

his throat, but the councilman swallowed it and put steel in his voice. “Hello, Alan, thank you for that.”
    “I was planning on calling again … but I didn’t want to disturb you and your family.”
    “Of course. I understand.” The councilman paused. Thirty plus years of the political life had taught him to carefully choose his words. “Alan, I know we’ve had our differences and haven’t always seen eye-to-eye but …”
    The man on the other end of the line filled the pregnant pause. “Bennett, if there’s something I can do for you, you should let me know.”
    “My daughter’s killer might go free. The DA is worried.”
    “What? How? Don’t tell me—”
    “All it takes is reasonable doubt. The defense is bringing in this expert on the paranormal…if the jury believes him, if he can put the tiniest doubt in their minds, then…”
    Councilman Towson let Alan make the connection. There was a long stretch of silence.
    Then Alan spoke. “There are things that can be done.”
    The politician smiled. Over the years, he’d racked up a lot of debt but many people, like Alan, still owed him favors. On the whole, his political ledger was pretty balanced.
    “If he can be…made to see reason,” the councilman said.
    “He can be made to see a lot more than reason.”
    “Nothing too serious. This has to be handled with a certain amount of delicacy.”
    “I understand.”
    “Of course, if this backfired and came back on me that might foul up the trial.”
    “Councilman, it won’t come back on you. All I ask in return is that you keep us in mind during your next term.”

Seventeen
     
    Eddie sat in the lawyer’s mess of an office in front of the mahogany desk. Green stood over him, like Eddie was in the witness box, and smoked a rancorous cigar.
    “Mr. McCloskey, you were convicted of a felony, isn’t that right?”
    Eddie turned to the imaginary jury on his left and pretended like he was looking Juror Number Six, a woman the same age as Alice Ketcher, in the eye. “Yes, it’s true. I was convicted of possession of illegal narcotics many years ago. I served and made early parole for good behavior. After I was released, I went through a rigorous rehab program to treat my …”
    Green pointed the cigar at him and ash showered the carpet. “Say it.”
    “I don’t believe it.”
    “Make yourself believe it.”
    Eddie sighed. “After I was released, I went through a rigorous rehab program to treat my disease .”
    “You have to say it like you mean it. Addiction is a disease like any other. You have to remind the jury of that fact so they’ll forgive you your sins.”
    “I’ll do it on the day.”
    “Do it now.”
    Eddie jumped out of his chair and threw his notepad across the room. “I’ll fucking do it later. Let’s move on.”
    Green eyeballed him for a long ten seconds. The lawyer puffed out a plume of smoke then waddled around his desk.
    Green fell back into the role he was playing. “Mr. McCloskey, what objective evidence can you present to this Court that ghosts exist?”  
    “At this time, no one can agree on what constitutes objective evidence of the paranormal.”
    “So the answer is none, I take it?”
    “I guess the—”
    “Stop.”
    Eddie cursed.
    “Never say I guess. Now answer the question.”
    Eddie sat back down, took a deep breath. “The answer is nothing has been validated. We use a variety of methods that have only been field-tested. We amass as much evidence as we can, evaluate it, then draw tentative conclusions. The better investigators use the scientific method as their model.”
    “Were you at the Ketcher residence on the night in question?”
    “No.”
    “So how can you say it was a ghost that caused Alice to die?”
    “Why’d you say it like that? Caused Alice to die.”
    Green perched his cigar on the ashtray like it was a pigeon sitting on the rim of a birdbath. “Would you rather I say killed Alice?”
    Eddie saw his point. “Fair enough. What