Expert Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  Suspect lost control of his car, veered onto the shoulder and came to a stop approximately a hundred yards off the highway. Officer followed suit, stopping behind suspect’s car at twenty feet, and observed that the suspect was sitting with his back to the officer. His hands were not visible. Officer called in his position, and exited the patrol car leaving the door open per standard procedure. Officer approached the Camry observing that the car was extremely dirty.

  Officer observed the driver’s window was partially open, and advised the suspect to put his hands on the wheel. The suspect did not comply nor did he acknowledge the officer’s presence. Officer called out again for the suspect to put his hands on the wheel. The suspect did not comply; the officer drew his weapon and approached with caution. After a third attempt at engagement, officer approached the vehicle and opened the door. Only then did the suspect look at the officer. At that time the suspect responded to directions to exit the vehicle, stood with his hands by his side, turned at direction, put his hands on the hood of the car, and assumed the position as ordered. Officer noted the suspect’s unkempt appearance and the blood….

  Archer set aside the report and picked up the photo of Xavier Hernandez’s hands. The officer’s report described blood on the thumb pad and the back of Hernandez’s right hand. By the time the suspect was transported he managed to wipe away most of it. The rest had dried, leaving half-moons of what appeared to be dirt under the nails. Some had sunk into the wrinkle between his finger and thumb. Archer put that picture down and picked up the one of Hernandez as he had been dressed. It looked like he’d slept in his clothes. It was possible to see the dust on his shoes and on the hem of his pants.

  Archer put all the photos and the extended arrest report aside and dug into the box marked ‘evidence’. The sheer volume of paperwork was overwhelming as it always was in a trial of this magnitude. Reports, analysis, lists and comparisons. For every bit of discovery the prosecution sent to Josie, she created twenty pages of notes to discount it, motions to have it thrown out, requests for clarification, and samples for independent testing. Finally, Archer found what he wanted: analytics for evidence taken from the body of Xavier Hernandez.

  He went over it fast. Blood was confirmed under the fingernails and embedded in his hands. Blood was also dried on Hernandez’s pants and jacket. Archer dove back into the box and pulled out a few more pages. Initial analysis indicated blood on his pants was both his and the victims’. The scrapings taken from under his nails matched the same types that had co-mingled with his own.

  Hernandez was not drunk.

  He was not belligerent, nor arrogant nor in shock. He accepted the arrest.

  He had offered no explanation for his state of disarray or the blood.

  He had allowed the officer to search his car.

  The officer found more blood evidence inside the car, cuffed the suspect, and called to have the car towed.

  Archer would have convicted the guy on this alone. He couldn’t wait to see what magic Josie had worked to save Hernandez’s sorry butt.

  Back in the box.

  It took more than a few minutes to find the report on evidence taken from inside the car. Archer dug in the first box again and grabbed the full booking report. It included the detective’s interview with Hernandez and the next round of booking – this time on the charge of double homicide. They had found the bodies.

  It was getting late. Archer’s back hurt from sitting on the floor. He wasn’t hungry but he had to eat. He had to sleep. He had to stay on top of his game. He had to get help to go through this stuff, and Hannah wasn’t the one to do it. She was too young, too scarred from her own trial, and too angry at him, so he wouldn’t ask her to look at the gruesome things he knew he would find in these boxes. It was, after all, a trial of a man who killed two girls Hannah’s age.

  Standing up, Archer stretched, checked his phone and texted Hannah.

  Homework done?

  Hannah: No worries.

  Archer: Try to sleep.

  Hannah: Okay.

  Archer hung up.

  Hannah slipped her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Archer’s text had unnerved her. She had assumed out-of-sight-out-of-mind was Archer’s way. His concern made her feel guilty and guilt made her feel angry, so she took it out on Billy.

  “Hurry,” she hissed. “Come on, Billy.”

  “Why? It’s not like we’re doing anything bad.”

  “Did I say we were?” Hannah snapped. “I just want to get home. In case Josie calls or Archer comes over.”

  “I think we should have waited for Archer before we did this.” Billy shook back his hair and looked at her, the hammer in his hand poised to strike.

  “No. It’s okay. We’re almost done,” Hannah assured him, but inside she had the sinking feeling Billy was right. Still, what could go wrong? They were only helping.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

  An Outbuilding in the California Mountains

  Josie pulled herself into a ball, unwound again and curled again until she was positioned closer to the stake. Her legs now tingled with the blood flow, and even her hands felt better.

  “You’re hands are tied above your head, right? Just look at the knot and nothing else. See the knot?” Josie spewed orders at her companion, trying to engage her and shake her out of her lethargy.

  “Yes,” came the reply. Josie imagined the woman’s bleary eyes trying to focus, and her brain attempting to process every bit of information. Josie sympathized, but she wouldn’t let up.

  “Okay. Good. We can figure this out together, but we’ve got to move you up. Look. Raise your eyes. Keep them open. See why? See what I’m talking about? If you move up you can get your fingers on the knot. The rope is cotton. It’s cotton rope. Do you know what that means?”

  “Cotton? Cotton.”

  “Right. Cotton,” Josie insisted. “It’s not jute. Cotton has some give. Whoever did this made a big mistake, I can tell you. Cotton rope. Come on. Come on! You’ve got to start working now. Massage the knot. I know it looks impossible, but if one of us can get the rope to relax-”

  Josie stopped talking as she recognized the silence of sleep. She shoved back with her rear and made contact. A rivulet of sweat tracked from her brow to lips. It was salty. Josie spit it out. Her shirt was plastered to her body. Even when she spoke softly, her voice sounded large and harsh in this little space. She would kill for a drink of water.

  “Do you remember my name? Josie. Josie Bates. What’s yours? Do you remember?” Working the rope was tough so she took a break. She rested, but kept talking just to hear her own voice.“Archer won’t be happy I'm sleeping with a woman I don’t even know. What about you? Are you married? Will someone be looking for you?”

  Josie looked at the knot. It was still tighter than tight.

  “I hope someone will be looking for you,” she muttered. “How about your name? You have to remember that.”

  There was nothing for a minute. Then she heard the woman make a great effort to breathe and out came:

  “Erika.”

  Archer’s Apartment, Hermosa Beach

  Archer sat on the deck in the one beach chair too low to see over the edge. Absentmindedly he twirled the pedal of the beach cruiser that had been banished from the garage to make room for the Hummer.

  He’d spent the hour since he returned home making calls. The first was to Daniel Young, but he got no answer. Then he started calling Josie’s current clients. There were eight of them. Hannah had been right about the DUI being nervous. The woman almost jumped out of her skin when Archer identified himself as a private investigator. There was a woman named Linda Lopez with a number in South Gate, and another woman named Martha Vabino who was in Los Angeles. Martha Vabino was a rep for a legal journal. Archer got the message machine which announced that the offices were closed, but if he wanted to book space in the next issue the drop dead date was three days before issue. Archer tossed it.

  Archer called Linda Lope
z. It was a dead end. Her son was in prison, and she heard that Josie handled children pro bono. Her child was nineteen, a gangbanger and went by the handle ‘Biter’ because he liked to chew off body parts during a rumble. Archer told her she should probably find another attorney because Josie wasn’t taking on new cases. Linda was disappointed, but not devastated. In fact, the woman didn’t sound particularly sober.

  He called Peter Siddon’s number, got a woman who said Peter would only talk to Josie Bates and it better be soon. After what she did to him, he at least deserved to talk to her. Then the woman began to cry and hung up. Even though Peter Siddon wasn’t on the list found in Josie’s car, Archer put him high on his personal list of people to check out.

  He was about to pick up the phone again to dial the number on Cuwin Martin’s message when two things happened: the phone rang and the doorbell sounded. Archer pushed the button on the phone and held it to his ear as he crossed to the open door. One way or another, he was positive he’d be talking to Josie. He was wrong.

  Standing in the doorway was Daniel Young; on the phone was Hannah. In Daniel Young’s hand was a piece of paper.

  “My fingerprints are on it,” Young said.

  An Outbuilding in the California Mountains

  Do you have a last name?”

  The woman moved. She yelped. It hurt like hell when you pulled the wrong way. Josie knew that all too well. The woman whimpered, but something was changing. Whatever it was, it hovered in their hot little cell just out of reach. Finally, Josie realized what she was sensing: resolve, a gritting of the woman’s psychic teeth. Before she could nudge the woman behind her to greater consciousness, she mumbled:

  “What the hell happened?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

  The Hollywood Hills

  Archer had a few rules he lived by. Spend your time wisely was right up there at the top of the list. Then there were the rest of the easy-to-follow rubrics that covered just about any situation that might crop up in his life. When you worked, work for people who paid well; when you played, play with people you like; when you loved, love without boundaries, expectations or tethers.

  Daniel Young wasn’t going to make Archer any bucks, and he sure as hell wasn’t someone Archer wanted to have a beer with at Burt’s, but the man was someone it would be wise to spend some time with. Archer needed help and Daniel Young had brought a most interesting little item. A Xerox of the original list found in Josie’s car. This time there was a check mark next to Daniel’s name. Archer took the list and dealt with Hannah at the same time.

  “Everything okay, Hannah?” When he got an affirmative he said, “I’ll call you back.”

  Archer snapped the phone shut, and his call to Cuwin Martin was put aside as he studied the list. Daniel followed him into the apartment. Archer raised his eyes, motioned toward the couch and the doctor sat down.

  Young was wearing the same outfit he had on at the office and wasted no time in filling Archer in on the rest of his day. Gay had left around six-thirty and he, himself, had stopped reviewing histories at eight. The piece of paper was found on the floor of his car, passenger side, and it was face down. He thought the car had been locked. The minute he saw what it was, he got in the car, locked the doors, fired up the engine and drove straight to Hermosa. He didn’t mind admitting he was afraid. Archer understood. He had seen the environment in Young’s office complex. Lots of trees, plants, and places to hide. Archer assured the doctor he had been smart to be cautious. Next on the list was Erika Gardener and, since they didn’t have a phone number, a road trip was the next best option. Daniel Young was going to tag along no matter what Archer said. Now Archer was driving and Daniel had spent the last forty-five minutes expounding on the Hernandez trial.

  “I admit that I was intrigued after your visit. I looked back over some of the press. I had forgotten that Erika was really the go-to reporter on this thing. Her research was impeccable, her reporting above reproach, but it was clear that she was appalled when Xavier was not convicted. She wrote a book exposing the judicial system for what it was: flawed, filled with ineptitude. Not like now. Now reporters regurgitate whatever they get off the AP. No one thinks anymore. I hate that about the Times. No one makes the effort to track down those in the know. I’ve seen so many articles where a simple interview would put events in the proper perspective.”

  “Yeah. If only they had an expert.” Archer tossed him a look. It was brief and expressive. Daniel Young was no dummy, nor was he put off by Archer’s ridicule.

  “I’m curious, Archer. You disdain expert witnesses, yet you must have surely offered your expertise in a trial or two.” Daniel turned slightly, his sincere interest whacking Archer up the side of his head.

  “They have their place,” Archer answered. “But most of them think they are smarter than everyone else. Most of them are just arrogant and glib, and they sell out easy.”

  “Everyone sells out,” Daniel pointed out, his odd voice catching and releasing like a fisherman teasing a big fish before he reeled him in.

  “I don’t sell what I do to the highest bidder, and I don’t tell my clients what they want to hear.”

  “Ah, there it is.” Daniel said energetically. He liked being engaged in an intellectual exercise. Archer figured him for a debater in high school. “You think people like me are unethical. Not so, Archer. I can’t tell you how many times I have turned down requests for my services precisely because it was implied that I would provide predetermined conclusions in my testimony.”

  Archer countered. “And my testimony doesn’t have wiggle room. Either I find what someone’s looking for, or I don’t. You, on the other hand, can make people believe anything. You talk out of both sides of your mouth.”

  “You mean like lawyers do?” Daniel suggested.

  Archer tightened his grip on the wheel. Touché. Daniel was right. Lawyers sold out to the highest bidder, and it wasn’t always for money. Josie had sold herself to Hernandez and he was dirt poor; she sold herself for notoriety. Now she was getting a return on her investment in spades.

  “Let’s just say I have reservations about your true value in a courtroom,” Archer answered. “Opinion on a state of mind is subjective.”

  “Then I suppose I’m only here to keep you company, since I was no more than a pretty face in the Hernandez trial.”

  Daniel faced forward and stopped talking. The silence felt like arm wrestling, and it was Archer’s psychic arm that was starting to tremble. Finally, he called uncle.

  “Okay. I’ll bite. What was your take on Hernandez?” Even though Archer’s eyes were on the road, he knew Daniel Young was smiling like he just won something.

  “Xavier Hernandez knew right from wrong, and he had no remorse when he did wrong. He was not compulsive about his urges, but he was smart enough to take advantage when a situation presented itself. He abused those girls and, realizing the trouble he would be in, killed them. He was also smart enough to hire Josie Bates and meticulously follow her advice. He never once incriminated himself. Xavier had issues, but he was not mentally ill. He relied on his mother for everything, and his mother gave it to him just to keep him away from her. Bottom line, he acted on impulse when he offered those girls a ride, but he carried out a plan once he had them isolated. He had full knowledge that what he was doing was a crime. I gave the prosecutor everything he needed to convict. I spoke to details that Hernandez provided to me during our interviews because I alone knew what to ask. I . . .”

  Archer had heard enough about how fabulous Daniel Young was. What he spouted was standard stuff any psychiatrist could have offered, but Young made it sound like he had opened Hernandez’s head and plucked out a detailed confession.

  “Okay, so he was smart and you were smart. But why is someone ticked off now? And if they’re avenging Hernandez’s conviction, why go after Josie? She was the only thing standing between him and the needle.”

  “Perhaps someone thought she should have got him off Scott free. In m
y expert opinion, her performance was both brilliant and disgusting.”

  “And what about this woman? Erika Gardener?”

  “Collateral damage, maybe?” Daniel suggested. “Although some of her articles were brutal, I don’t think Xavier really cared one way or the other about his press. It might be as simple as Hernandez liking to have two women. Making Janey watch Susie being killed heightened his pleasure. That’s what he told me.”

  “Then maybe we’re looking for someone who isn’t affiliated with Hernandez at all. Maybe the statement isn’t that Hernandez got a raw deal.”

  Daniel raised an eyebrow as he chuckled. “And just who might that be making such a statement?”

  Archer raised a brow right back. “The victims’ families? How about someone who didn’t like that the Susie girl never got her day in court? Or, what about Isaiah Wilson? It’s the ten year anniversary of his kid’s death, and all this guy got was second degree.”

  “You’re not suggesting Isaiah Wilson is responsible for Ms. Bates’ disappearance, are you?”

  “Stranger things have happened. But hey, you’re the expert, I’m just a dick.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

  “There. There!”

  Young shouted the command as he pointed to the street Archer had driven past. The fingers of his other hand latched onto Archer’s arm, and that did it. Archer hit the brakes as he shook Daniel Young off.