Eyewitness (Thriller/Legal Thriller - #5 The Witness Series) (The Witness Series #5)

by Forster, Rebecca

  “Directly across the street is a house in foreclosure and it’s empty. There is another one that has been sold but not vacated. The owners went to a movie and came home late. They didn’t see anything suspicious.”

  “What time did they come back?” Carl asked.

  “Between ten thirty and eleven. The bodies were discovered at two in the morning, and we’re waiting for a time of death from the coroner,” Mike answered. “There’s also a rental. They have a Westco Security sign, but that address isn’t hooked into their system.

  “We are covering the most obvious bases: sexual predators within a certain radius of the house, known gang members, drug activity. We’ll see if anything pops up in our data bases,” Wendy offered. “No drugs or paraphernalia were found in the house. I doubt that’s going to be a thread, but we are asking for toxicology on all victims and that includes the boy.”

  “He’s an interesting twist.” Newton’s lips moved but nothing else. His arms still rested on the arms of his chair, he had not shifted his body, or even inclined his head. Mike’s own fingers twitched as if that would inspire Newton. It did not. “What are you thinking about him? He knows the home and the habits of the mother."

  "The relationship isn't confirmed yet," Mike reminded him causing Newton’s eyes to spark and focus more keenly on the detective.

  “What relationship do you think exists?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to speculate,” Mike answered. Wendy moved, uncomfortable with the passive confrontation.

  “Then she is who we believe she is until proven otherwise, detective.” Newton countered. “We will at least stipulate that she is guardian to the boy. You said that he asked for her.”

  “A witness said he called for his mother,” Wendy interjected, but Mike edited her.

  “The boy didn’t call for her. He said the word, mom. The witness couldn’t be sure what he was implying, and I agree it was open to interpretation.”

  “Well, then, that’s where we start. Close to home,” Newton lectured. “Perhaps he didn’t like her line of work. Perhaps the boy didn’t like the woman’s clients if that is what the men in her house were. Perhaps he was angry because she tried to impose rules he didn’t like. Perhaps he is an addict. There are infinite possibilities when it comes to the boy.”

  “I would say he’s at the top of the food chain,” Wendy quipped, shrugging when Mike shot her a cautionary look. In the next minute she doubled down but did it deferentially. “Not that it’s my call. Statistically, though, you can’t ignore the fact that most homicides are committed by a person known to the victim.”

  “But in this case there are three victims,” Mike reminded her. “I would suggest that our universe might be a little broader than Billy Zuni.”

  “Of course,” Wendy agreed, cognizant of the fact that she had overstepped her bounds.

  “I have a hearing on another matter,” Carl said. “Can you do broad strokes?”

  Wendy began, “We confirmed six vehicles on the street at midnight. We have general descriptions, and we’ve impounded the two belonging to the victims. Of the remaining four, one was directly under the streetlight in front of Mrs. Yount’s place. She gets upset when people park in front of her place and walk down to the beach so she took particular note of it when she went to the bathroom. She believed it to be a green Toyota sedan. She didn’t get a license plate but noted that the bumper on the back was crumpled and it was missing a hubcap on the right front.”

  “Did the boy have a car or access to one?” Carl finally moved, raising his right hand and pointing at Wendy.

  “No. A vehicle in the driveway is disabled.” Wendy checked her notes. “It was last registered in 2001 to Mr. George Lynch. I’m running him down. We found no keys.”

  “Has the old woman any opinions on the family, Mike?”

  “She said they were quiet. They showed no interest in being neighborly. We spoke to the boy's school. He wasn't the best student. He has a juvenile record but all minor offenses,” Wendy said. “We’ve got the hospital on speed dial. Soon as he’s awake and able to talk to us, we’ll be on it.”

  “Gut reaction?” Newton asked.

  “None regarding motive or perp. Priority is to work on connecting the victims,” Mike answered.

  “So, you’re not keen about putting the boy on the pedestal?” Newton’s hand dropped to the arm of his chair. He was twirling his pen, buying into the scenario he was imagining.

  “Of course he is prime, but there won’t be a direct physical link and juries like their forensics.” Mike reminded Newton that he was only working in the best interest of the prosecutor. “The boy was in the ocean for an indeterminate amount of time and was in the hospital by the time the bodies were discovered. His clothes were in shreds; evidence on his person was nonexistent. What we need is for him to talk to us.”

  “That’s very fair, but your experience must tell you he is the one to sit on. Mine certainly does. I’m assuming there is evidence of him at the scene.”

  Mike took a deep breath. They were wasting time. The deputy had a fascination with Billy when they were a million miles from having anything he could use to file.

  “It was Billy’s home. There will be evidence of him, but none of it will help your case,” Mike reminded Newton.

  “In the hands of an exceptional prosecutor anything can be made to be sustainable evidence.” Newton winked at no one in particular. “You bring me what you have, and I’ll sort it out for you. Don’t disappoint by being a bleeding heart or a prude, Michael.”

  Carl Newton finally moved as if he meant it. His hands went to the edge of the desk and he pushed his chair back as he droned on.

  “You’ve done a fine job in a short time. Don’t let the grass grow. I want to fill the press in, not the other way around. Have you spoken to the press yet?”

  Wendy shook her head as Mike answered: “The sheriff planned a press conference for tomorrow.”

  "Is there any need for guards at the hospital?” Carl asked.

  "I don’t see any overt threat to the woman or the boy at this time," Mike answered.

  “That ignores the possibility we’ve been speaking of. That the boy might be a threat to the woman,” Carl reminded him.

  “He isn’t ambulatory. He suffered head injuries. It will probably be a few days before he’s even sitting up,” Michael assured the prosecutor.

  “The young heal quickly,” Newton warned, equally quick to assure Mike that he was wrong.

  “Hospital security and staff have been advised of the circumstances. I think we’re good,” Mike answered, annoyed to be pushed so hard in a direction that was not yet warranted.

  “I would hate to see you compromised.” Before Mike could point out that it would be the caution of his investigation that would dictate the outcome of Newton’s prosecution, the lawyer covered yet another base for the detective. “Have either of you contacted Social Services?”

  “I did,” Mike said as he was about to leave.

  “Billy is lawyered up.” Wendy added her two cents.

  “Really? Who is it?” Newton asked, fairly licking his lips.

  “Josie Bates. She’s the one who found him in the ocean. She also discovered the bodies and called it in,” Mike said.

  “So she knew the mother.”

  Mike shook his head, “No, they’d never met.”

  “But she’s a friend of the boy. That is interesting.”

  “Her ward goes to school with him. I think we should take this at face value. Hermosa is a small town. She was on the scene, and she’s willing to help.”

  “Don’t be naïve, Michael. She’s jockeying for position. Move fast on that boy and watch Bates carefully. She’s wily.”

  “You’ll know what we have when we have it.” Mike’s voice was tight but only Wendy noticed.

  “Good. Done.” Carl dismissed them. “I’ll touch base with the District Attorney himself and see if he’d like me to stand in with the sheriff at
the press conference. The citizens will want to be assured that this is an isolated incident. Keep on the boy. That’s the way to go. If you need help with Bates, call me.”

  Carl Newton let them go without a thank you or goodbye. Mike was out the door and gone before Wendy was out of her chair. She caught up with him half way down the hall. She moved in tight and nudged him.

  “Lighten up, Mike. He was just throwing his weight around.”

  Mike walked on with measured steps. Wendy matched his gait. She was happy and energized by the case; Mike Montoya was burdened. She tried again to lighten the mood.

  “Come on, Newton’s a wet blanket, but his instincts are good and his conviction record is great.”

  Wendy nudged him once more, but Mike moved away.

  “Carl Newton is a mortician,” Mike snapped. “He’s got a couple of bodies and he wants to dress them up to the nines by painting the kid as a sex crazed psycho or something. For God sake, did you see that glint in his eyes? He wants this to be as simple and salacious as possible. If you think that’s okay, you should reassign.”

  Mike quickened his step, leaving Wendy behind.

  “Hey!” she hollered, and her voice echoed down the empty hall until it whacked Mike on the back of the head.

  He pivoted slowly. Wendy looked formidable and gorgeous in her outrage. She opened her mouth to let him have it but changed her mind. Mike Montoya wasn’t a goody-two-shoes, he was a guy whose sense of fairness was so deeply imbedded it hurt his soul. Wendy wished he could learn to take things as they came. Sometimes you got what you wanted, sometimes you didn’t. She dropped her hands, walked up to him, took a deep breath, and gave him a pat on his shoulder along with the truth:

  “This whole thing was friggin’ salacious the minute Josie Bates found those bodies and the kid wasn’t one of them.”

  ***

  Hannah came home an hour after Josie dropped her off. Her shoes dangled from her fingers, and sand clung to her feet. It wasn’t long ago that Hannah wouldn’t have been caught dead walking alone on the beach. She insisted she felt more comfortable in places where there were nooks and crannies to hide in until she knew where the bad things lived. But time, Josie, and the rhythm of Hermosa changed all that. Now Hannah was a fixture at Burt’s by the Beach, her paintings hung in the local gallery, and she walked Max into town. Hannah admired the sunsets and could be found sitting by the water at sunrise when the devils inside her head woke her too early. Josie’s house was home, and Josie was glad she was back, but it was Archer who called to her first.

  “Hey, brought you a sandwich.”

  He made room at the table.

  “I’ll get you something to drink.” Josie went into the kitchen. When she returned, Hannah was settled with her elbows planted on top of the table and her sandwich untouched. Josie put a glass of ice tea in front of her. Josie took her own chair. She laced her arms through Archer’s and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “You doing okay, Hannah?” Archer asked.

  “Tired,” Hannah answered.

  “I called the school,” Josie said.

  “Did you tell them everything?”

  “The basics,” Josie answered.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s going to be all over the news. That will be bad,” Hannah muttered. She looked heartbroken.

  “Sometimes it’s good. People might rally for Billy," Josie offered even though she knew Hannah wouldn’t buy it.

  The media got facts wrong, or in the worst case made them up. Gossip started, talk radio turned gossip back to distorted facts, and everyone got caught in the resulting maelstrom. That’s exactly where Hannah’s mind had gone. Suddenly, she shot straight up.

  “Josie, there’s a television in Billy’s room. He doesn’t know about his mom. What if he sees it?”

  “The hospital won’t let that happen. I promise, he won’t find out until he’s strong enough and alert enough to understand.”

  Hannah was about to offer a litany of reasons why the best intentions where Billy was concerned were going to result in disaster, but Faye’s arrival stopped her.

  “Oh good, everyone is here. How you doing, sweetie?” For Hannah there was a quick hug and a kiss buried in her glorious hair. "Josie. Archer."

  "Sorry, I didn't know you were coming." Archer indicated the food.

  "Heavens, none for me, but thank you, Archer. I have what you wanted, Josie, but it brings new meaning to the phrase slim to none." Faye opened her purse and pulled out a Xerox. She handed it to Josie as she sat down. “It’s so sad that this is all we have of him. Good lord, I’ve known Billy longer than anyone, and I can’t tell you a thing about him.”

  “I’ve been beating myself up all night about that,” Josie added.

  "The first time I can recall seeing Billy he was about eight or nine. I wasn't even sure he lived here. You know how it is around the beach, kids come and visit, people move in and out. You have to see someone ten times before you realize you’ve seen them once. Billy was different, though. I remembered him every time I laid eyes on him. God, he was such a sweet little kid.”

  Faye fell silent and then smiled as if suddenly remembering that she wasn’t alone.

  “The first time I talked to him I was worried because he was out so late for a little one. I asked where he lived and he gave me a piece of paper with his address on it. He never said a word. I think I scared him. Hannah, you didn’t think I was scary when you met me, did you?”

  “No,” she answered, but it went without saying that very little scared Hannah.

  “Thank goodness for that,” Faye laughed. “Anyway, then he was just everywhere at once. Burt was always feeding him. The poor little thing ate like there was no tomorrow.”

  “He still does,” Josie said. “I met him when he was fifteen. I could kick myself for not following up on that representation agreement. You know, Rosa Zuni looks like she’s about twelve herself.”

  Josie perused the one page, and noted the signature at the bottom of the representation agreement. At least it said Rosa Zuni. Faye watched Josie, and Archer watched Hannah.

  “Hannah? Do you know anything about her?” Archer asked, just to engage her in the conversation.

  “Mothers aren’t something we discussed,” she drawled.

  The silence that fell was as pregnant a pause as there had ever been. Josie squeezed Archer’s knee and bit her tongue. She knew that tone of voice. Hannah was prickly as a pear.

  "Well, we’ll pray for his mother, no matter who she is,” Faye said, smoothing things over. “And we’ll pray for Rosa to wake up so she can help Billy. For now, we’ll just help out where we can. Burt’s setting up a donation box at the restaurant. I doubt Billy or Rosa have insurance.”

  Josie nodded and crossed her arms on the table. “This feels so wrong.”

  “Nobody flies under the radar like this unless they make an effort.” Archer put words to Josie’s thoughts.

  “We all assumed neglect and Billy never corrected us. Why would Billy let us think that? Why would Rosa Zuni want us to think that?”

  Josie looked at Archer. He raised his palms toward the ceiling, full of questions but out of suggestions.

  “Right now we got a flood of information and none of it’s good. Let’s just plug the leak and then we can figure out what made the dam crack.” Archer crumpled the trash. “At least Billy’s not going to get some public defender if this doesn’t go his way."

  "All is well as can be, then.” Faye got up. "I’ll take care of business at the office, but if there’s anything I can help with give me a call."

  Josie thanked Faye and saw her out. When she got back, Archer was finishing with the trash and Hannah had her shoes on.

  "Well, I guess we've got our work cut out for us," Josie said. She kissed Archer’s cheek. “I’ll have my phone on. Call me if you find anything. Hannah, make sure Max gets out. I’ll be back by seven.”

  “I’ll meet you back here about then, too,” Archer said
.

  They were both headed in opposite directions when Hannah turned in her chair, hugged the back of it, and said:

  "Should I start cleaning out my room? I mean, we’re going to take care of him, right?"

  “That’s getting a little ahead of things, Hannah,” Archer said as he and Josie exchanged a look.

  That didn't escape Hannah's notice. She sat up straighter, her brow furrowing as Josie looked to Archer for help. All he brought to the discussion was a raised eyebrow and a lost expression. Josie widened her eyes, making a mental note to talk to him about having her back where Hannah was concerned. For now, Josie was on her own.

  “Why? Why isn’t he coming here?” she insisted.

  “Hannah, I can’t just take Billy,” Josie said. “That’s not the way things work.”

  “You took me,” Hannah insisted.

  “I had your mother’s permission, and your trial was over,” Josie reminded her. “Circumstances were completely different.”

  “He doesn’t have anyone else, Josie.” Hannah dug in. Josie did the same. Archer added the only two cents he could come up with.

  “We’ll do what’s best for Billy. I promise, Hannah.”

  Hannah turned on him, happy and relieved to have a champion. “He could stay with you. Maybe that would be better.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Cowed in the face of Hannah’s hope, Archer backed off but she came right back at him.

  “Why not?”

  “Hannah, give us a break. We’re tired. We haven’t sorted anything out yet.” Archer tried to appease her but too many women in one room made him nervous. Josie stepped in to end the discussion.

  “This is no game.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Hannah shot back, impatient with Josie. “That’s why we need to figure it out now so Billy doesn’t have to wonder if anyone cares about him.”

  Hannah’s unwavering faith in these adults who had protected her was suddenly shaken. She had no idea that Josie and Archer were equally unsure of what they were up against.

  “Look, Hannah, we need to take a cue from about a hundred people right now. Decisions about Billy aren’t up to us. The hospital, the cops, the district attorney-”