Page 72 of Pulling Strings

Coming on a bit strong, aren’t we?

“Mister Thatcher, would you please tell the court about your experience last Tuesday night?”

“It was very late,” Thatcher began. “Near midnight, I believe. I was getting ready for bed when those felonious brutes, the Bloody Hex, entered my home with the intent to kill.”

I dared another over-the-shoulder glance at the audience. Were they buying this? Was the jury? Grimm’s portrayal of the typically meek and soft-spoken Jacoby Thatcher was a bit too high school drama class for my comfort.

Talbot gave an encouraging nod. “Go on.”

“They tied me up. Tortured me…” Thatcher cupped his hand over his eyes, cringing. “It was horrible.”

Sympathetic noises cycled through the crowd. They were buying it, all right.

Talbot turned aside, opening his posture in my direction. “Is there anyone in the courtroom today who was with the Bloody Hex that night?”

“There.” Thatcher gestured to me. “Mister Farrow was with them.”

“I see.” Talbot walked forward then back. Light glinted off his shimmering suit. “Did my client harm you that night? Did he, perhaps, attempt to control your mind or body?”

Thatcher shook his head. “No, he did not.”

“And did my client menace you in any way? Even with verbal threats?”

“No, he did not.”

“What was his involvement in the situation?”

Thatcher sat back and bridged his hands. He pondered the question for a long moment before speaking. “I believe it’s common knowledge how Mister Farrow came into the custody of the Bloody Hex. A very sad situation. One of the Capitol’s greatest failings, I’ll be the first to admit. There are countless theories about the reasoning behind his abduction, but one stands out to me as most likely. I believe the Bloody Hex needed a scapegoat.”

They must have rehearsed this. Lawyers did that, right? Grimm and Talbot must have talked before the incognito prison visit. So, itwasdrama class. A practiced speech. A dramatic monologue. And Grimm had centerstage.

“Would you mind expanding on that?” Talbot prompted.

“Mister Farrow’s incarceration, and this trial, provides an opportunity for the Capitol to make a statement about our position on crime and domestic terrorism,” Thatcher explained. “His execution would pacify the masses and would be considered a victory for the cause of peaceful existence in our fair city.”

I grimaced.

Jesus, Grimm, slow down. You’re on my side, remember?

“But…”

This had better be good.

“I believe the Bloody Hex saw a similar opportunity all those years ago. I think they saw Fitch Farrow as a lamb they were willing to send to slaughter as penance for their sins. Why else house, clothe, and feed an investigator’s son? A young man born of and raised by their enemy? Who better to hang the whole of their blame on, and let the scales of justice weigh out his punishment?”

The crowd grumbled, jury members scribbled on notepads, and doubt crept into my mind. The best lies were based in truth. Wasn’t that the saying? Thoughts flooded in. Ripley Vaughn’s claims about Grimm’s cruelty and the “same dirty tricks as always.” Grimm himself saying he didn’t need trust when he had leverage. Plus bits of memory still clinging from that night at the Silva house.

Aster stood. “Mister Thatcher, this is all conjecture. And I fail to see what it has to do with the attack on your home.”

“When the Bloody Hex assailed me last week, they were forced to flee due to a rapid response from our investigative team,” Thatcher replied. “But they leftMister Farrow behind. I believe intentionally. They orchestrated his demise, as I think they’ve been doing for years.”

Thatcher turned to address the jury while holding an open hand in reference to me. “Does it not seem incredible that one man could be responsible for the slew of crimes and murders with which Mister Farrow is charged? One man who, as Mister Collier has repeatedly pointed out, does not possess magic that lends itself to mind or body control?

“Similarly,” he continued, “Thorngate prison was sieged just last night. By the Bloody Hex.”

Judging by the sudden rush of whispers from the gallery, that news hadn’t been made public yet.

“Many of you would jump to the conclusion they broke into the prison to rescue Mister Farrow before he could stand trial,” Thatcher said. “Instead, they liberated scores of other inmates and left the defendant shackled to a bed in the infirmary.” Chatter from the crowd grew in volume, and Thatcher raised his voice to be heard over them. “Fitch Farrow is a victim of the Bloody Hex. A victim when he was orphaned and abducted. A victim today. And I believe he is innocent.”

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