Expert Witness

by Rebecca Forster

  “You know,” she said as she walked back into the room after taking a little powder break, “there was no reason you should have come all this way. You could have just asked me about Xavier over the phone. Not that I don’t love company, you understand.”

  She reclined on a sofa that looked none too comfortable and smiled at him. Caps, he decided. Nobody had teeth that perfect.

  “We like to do things in person when possible,” Arnson answered.

  “So you can look a body in the eye and know if they’re lying? That is so CSI.”

  “Actually, yes.” Arnson colored under her scrutiny. “I understand you ran the literacy program at the prison. I was hoping you could tell me if Xavier Hernandez’s work ever referenced his trial for the murder of Janey Wilson. I’m specifically interested to find out if he mentioned Josie Bates or Erika Gardener.”

  “I don’t follow,” Cory answered. “He read a lot. In fact, I remember him because he was a voracious reader. He wasn’t really one to discuss the things he read. I never engaged the inmates in discussions of their crimes even if they wanted to. That wasn’t my job.”

  “No, I’m not talking about his reading habits. I wondered if you might still have some of the stuff he wrote. You know, did he write stories or a journal or what?”

  Cory Cartwright threw back her head and laughed.

  “What he wrote? Xavier had a learning disability. He couldn’t write if his life depended on it.”

  A Rental House, San Fernando Valley

  “Come on. Hurry it up. I gotta get to work!”

  The girl’s boyfriend hollered at her through the closed and locked bathroom door. Sometimes she thought she should get rid of him, get out of the house, and change her life around a little. There just had to be a better way to live. Her, him, his friends and one bathroom just didn’t add up to a really fine situation. But this morning, he was just going have to wait to take his ten o’clock dump because she finally decided what she had to do and she was going to do it – as soon as she remembered the number.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO:

  Josie Bates’ House, Hermosa Beach

  Daniel Young knocked on the door and was surprised not to hear the dog bark. He hated that dog and the dog hated him, but he was ready to face the animal. So when Hannah opened the door and the dog didn’t appear, Daniel figured his luck was turning.

  “Nobody’s here,” Hannah said when she saw him.

  “I know. I heard what happened to Archer and Xavier,” Daniel said. “Can I come in?”

  “I guess.” Hannah held open the door. “I’m not going to be here very long.”

  “Where are you going?” Daniel asked, noting the suitcase by the door.

  “Everyone heard about Archer. I’m being placed.” Hannah followed Daniel into the living room. “Don’t make yourself comfortable. They’ll probably be here soon.”

  “I am sorry, Hannah. I had no idea the disappearance of one person could create such misery for so many. It’s rather like a house of cards, don’t you think? The way we are all interlocked.” Daniel laced his fingers together to illustrate his point.

  Hannah sighed. She was getting pissed. “What do you want?”

  “I want to help you.”

  Daniel dropped his hands. Irritation flickered under his smile. She wasn’t fooled There was no reason he should want to help her when he hated Josie. He was just looking for attention.

  “You want to take care of me?” Hannah smirked. “I don’t think the judge would go for that. Besides, I don’t think we’d get along.”

  “No, nothing like that.” Daniel shook his head. “I wanted to offer my professional services. Given everything that’s happened, I doubt Ms. Bates will be coming home. I thought you might want to prepare yourself for that. I thought I would reach out to you. Someone needs to now.”

  “She’ll get back,” Hannah snapped. “And she’ll find me. And if she doesn’t Archer will. He’ll come get me.”

  Hannah walked back to the door and put her hand on the knob. The house was too quiet and she didn’t like Daniel sharing the silence, but Daniel had an agenda. He wasn’t going anywhere until he met it.

  “Neither of those things will happen, Hannah,” Daniel said gently. “It would be better to face the facts now. I read your history. I know how you clung to the notion that your mother would love you and care for you. I know the danger you put yourself in because of that delusion. Don’t put yourself through it again. I know. . .”

  “Just shut up. You don’t know anything about Archer and Josie,” Hannah said angrily. She didn’t have to be nice to him, and she didn’t want him spoiling her last minutes in this house.

  “I do know about Josie Bates, and you know, too. Look at your hand. You can’t help yourself. Your anxiety is reflected in your compulsiveness. You may say you believe she’s coming back, but you’re already grieving. Let me be the one to help. Please, Hannah.”

  Daniel Young walked toward her, but Hannah barely noticed. She was looking at her hand, and she was fighting the numbers running through her head. It wasn’t until the tips of his shoes came into view that she realized how close he was. Her head snapped up. He looked bigger and broader than he had when she first met him; he was frightening and threatening because he seemed to be looking through her.

  “I could save you, Hannah.”

  “I don’t need saving.” She backed off and pulled open the door.

  “You will,” he insisted.

  “No, I won’t. And you better go now.”

  Hannah wished Max was there or Archer or anyone. Where was Billy when she needed him? She didn’t want to be alone with Daniel Young, but he wasn’t listening to her. He looked at her as if trying to decide whether he should do what she wanted or what he wanted. Before he could make that decision, a phone started to ring. They looked at each other and then they looked toward the dining room.

  LAPD, Detective Levinksy’s Desk, Los Angeles

  “Yep. Yep. Sure. Thanks. Okay.” Levinsky made a few notes, hung up on the caller and immediately dialed Arnson. “We got the fiber content back on the strands found in Bates’ car. White/black/blue. Consistent with sportswear microfibre. Yeah. You know, all that fancy stuff that breathes.”

  He listened for a minute.

  “Could be Bates’. I’ll call and have the kid check her closet. Yeah. Yeah. Maybe not. It’s all in the file.”

  Levinsky was about to hang up when Arnson told him that Hernandez couldn’t write. Levinsky was surprised. That definitely meant someone else was in the mix.

  “Think those broads are still alive?” Levinsky asked. He listened for Arnson’s answer then said: “Naw, me neither.”

  He hung up and thought it was a damn shame they’d probably be finding a couple bodies one of these days. What a waste. Both those women were lookers.

  Liz Driscoll’s Car, Hermosa Beach

  Liz knew she should go home, but home was a long way away from Hermosa Beach, and she just wasn’t ready to let go.

  She had done what Archer asked and found the picture of Daniel and Erika Gardener, faxed the info of their engagement to Arnson and asked him to check in Erika Gardener’s house for anything that might connect the two currently. She suggested he also check the long ago restraining order that had been granted to Erika Gardener. It would be interesting to see if Daniel Young was named. Liz called the hospital on her way back from Manhattan Beach. Archer was doing better, but there was no change in Hernandez. Now she was sitting opposite Josie Bates’ house wondering if she should stop in and see Hannah. There were a zillion reasons not to – the first being that Liz would eventually have to admit that she was off the investigation. There was only one good reason to knock on that door and the reason was that Hannah was a kid.

  “Aw, hell,” Liz muttered. She didn’t have anything else to do. She’d go and sit with Hannah until they came to get her, but first there was one more call she had to make.

  “Morgan?” Liz said when her conta
ct at the city clerk’s office picked up. “It’s me, Driscoll. Got anything on the parking garage? Excellent. Hold on.” Liz pulled her notepad out and got ready to copy. “Okay, shoot.”

  “Ten in the time frame you gave me,” came the answer. “I already ran the names on the cards through DMV. I came up with four red ones: two Toyotas, a Cadillac and a Mountaineer.”

  “Don’t care about the Cadillac. Give me the Mountaineer and the Toyotas.”

  Liz started to write. The mountaineer was registered in Santa Ana so Liz discarded it. The first Toyota was to a man named Forest Kempmeir and the second was registered to a Gaylene Sheff, one resided in Manhattan Beach and one resided in Orange County.”

  That, Liz thought, was promising. “Give me the addresses of the last two.”

  Liz took them down. When she was done, all she could do for a second was stare at the information. In the next minute, she was dialing Arnson.

  “You won’t believe this. The red Toyota? It’s registered to Daniel Young’s secretary but the address is his place.”

  San Diego Freeway South

  Isaiah Wilson adjusted his Bluetooth earpiece. He would never get used to wearing such a thing, but it did have its place. Peter Siddon’s voice was coming over loud and clear.

  “Yes, Peter. I think it’s a good idea to go home. No. Don’t wait for me. I’ve seen Xavier, and there’s nothing to worry about. Josie Bates? No, I doubt she’ll bother either of us ever again. All will be well. I promise.”

  Isaiah signed off. For the first time in many years he was at peace. Now there was only one last stop to make. There were two ladies he wanted to see one more time.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE:

  Josie Bates’ House, Hermosa Beach

  Hannah dashed for Archer’s phone, and Daniel Young was following after. She caught it on the third ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Who is it?” Daniel was so close Hannah could smell him. She turned away and put hand over her free ear.

  “Yes. Yes. Okay. I don’t care. Just tell me as best you can.” Hannah turned back to Daniel and whispered: “Do you have something to write with?”

  Daniel had a pen. He rushed into the kitchen. Hannah heard him rummaging for paper, and he heard Hannah begging.

  “No, don’t hang up. Just say it once more. Please.” Daniel was back, pen and napkin at the ready. “Okay. Yes. The Santa Monica Mountains. Does it have a name? Okay. Okay.” Hannah motioned to Daniel and he started to write as she spoke. Mile marker 3. A turnout by the rock with the purple graffiti. Then what? Walk in a ways. Straight. If I hit the river it’s too far. That was it. The woman on the other end of the line was done.

  “Who are you? What’s your. . .” Hannah asked, but the woman had hung up. Hannah twirled on Daniel.

  “She said she spoke to Josie and to the other lady. They’re in some kind of little house or something up in the mountains. Oh my God, this girl talked to them. They’re alive.”

  “It can’t be? Really?” Daniel grabbed her hands and Hannah let him.

  “Yes. Yes. We’ve got to call someone. Call Detective Driscoll,” Hannah said as she disengaged and picked up the phone again. Daniel put his hand on it before she could dial.

  “I know the place. I know the rock. I cycle up there. Come on, I’ll take you.”

  Hannah pulled back, “No, we need to call Liz.”

  “A minute could make all the difference. My car is right outside. We’ll call her on the way,” Daniel insisted.

  “Okay. Okay.”

  Hannah left everything behind. She forgot about Mrs. Crane as she rushed out of the house. There was only one thing on her mind: Josie.

  “Where? Where’s your car?” She called to Daniel and he pointed just down the street as he grabbed her wrist.

  “This way.”

  He pulled her along as they ran then flung her toward his car. She threw herself inside, closing the door as Daniel fired up the engine. While he checked traffic, Hannah used Archer’s phone to dial Liz’s number but the line was busy. She rang off just as Daniel Young made a U-turn at the light and sped off toward the freeway unaware that his speed and his car had been tagged.

  Liz Driscoll’s Car, Hermosa Beach

  Liz was still on the phone when the car went by her. She wouldn’t have given it a second thought had she not seen Hannah sitting in the passenger’s seat. Though she couldn’t see clearly, it looked as if Daniel was driving.

  “Idiot,” Liz muttered. She couldn’t believe he was helping Hannah run from the county people. Hannah made a big mistake dragging him into this, and she wasn’t doing herself any favor either. Liz didn’t have Hannah’s cell number, so she called Daniel’s as she pulled out into traffic.

  He answered on the first ring.

  Daniel Young’s Car, San Diego Freeway, North

  “Yes?”

  Daniel Young put his hand to his Bluetooth and pushed it further into his ear. He glanced at Hannah who was busy with Archer’s phone as she redialed the woman who had called.

  “Detective Driscoll. Yes, we know where she is. Santa Monica Mountains.”

  Hannah looked up, those green eyes of hers so hopeful. Not only was Daniel her white knight, but the cavalry was coming, too. He smiled at her then looked back to traffic and eased over into the carpool lane. It was the perfect time of day for this to all end and he was the perfect person to make it happen. He had almost forgotten Liz Driscoll on the phone. He touched his earpiece again.

  “It’s the 3-mile marker near the graffitied boulder. Yes. Yes. That’s the one. We’ll see you there.” He ended the call, smiled broadly and said to Hannah. “Looks like you were right. You’re going to see Josie Bates.”

  “I can’t believe it. Thank you so much. Thank you,” Hannah breathed.

  Unable to reach the woman who had called, Hannah started to dial again, punching in Josie’s number, positive that this time Josie would answer. All she had to do was push the button and Hannah would tell her they were coming.

  Hannah put Archer’s phone to her ear and listened to Josie’s distinctive ring. It echoed not just in her ear but all around her. The sound was coming from the back seat of Daniel Young’s car.

  Liz Driscoll’s Car, San Diego Freeway, North

  Liz tossed her phone on the seat beside her. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. Young hung up on her. She put the pedal to the metal and kept Daniel Young in sight.

  Forest Lawn Cemetery, Orange County

  Isaiah Wilson walked across the green lawn, past the headstones and toward a mausoleum. Well, hardly a mausoleum but a monument to Janey nonetheless. To the left of Janey’s monument a modest headstone inscribed with the name Susie Atkins.

  This was his last stop. He needed to be here with his two girls who would have been women today if Xavier Hernandez had not happened upon them.

  “Josie Bates can’t hurt anyone anymore,” the reverend said to the gravestone and the monument.

  Then Reverend Wilson began to cry. Retribution was not all it was cracked up to be.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR:

  The California Mountains

  Daniel was not happy. Hannah should have been slower given the backhand he dealt her when she recognized Josie Bates’ ringtone. Oh, he had tried to explain, but Hannah Sheraton was no dummy. She attacked him, endangering them both. He had to hit her. It felt right and good because it ended any pretense.

  Between the woman who called Archer’s phone, this little slut, and Erika, this whole thing had just gone to hell in a handbasket. How could he have been so stupid? He had taken Josie Bates’ purse and briefcase out of the red car and thrown it into the back of his own so Gay wouldn’t see them. Now Bates’ stuff was jumbled up with his personal accouterments: his bike, his helmet, his flashlight and backpack. Thinking about that miscalculation made him so angry he hit Hannah again for good measure a second later.

  Luckily, they were on the freeway when he did. Cars were going too fast for anyone to re
ally see what happened. Even if they did, this was Los Angeles. Drivers would leave Mother Theresa bleeding on the shoulder rather than get involved.

  At the turn off, Daniel hit the gas and took the road to the 3-mile marker in record time. He careened into the cul de sac under the rock and slammed on the brakes. Flinging himself out of the car, he ran to the other side, ripped open the passenger door and went after Hannah as she tried to get over the back seat. He pulled one leg; she kicked with the other. He dragged her a few inches; she screamed and railed and clutched at the headrests and the slick leather upholstery.

  “Get out of there. Let go!” he ordered.

  Daniel grabbed her jeans and yanked her backward with one hand. With the other he pried her fingers off the back of the seat, aware of her smooth, young skin, the scent of her hair, the flash of her eyes. Oh, he was an exceptional man to be able to appreciate these things even now, in the heat of battle, in this epic war of wills. Dazed as she must be, he had to admire that she still fought, grunting, grappling and kicking as she tried to stay out his reach. But she was simply putting off the inevitable because Daniel was tall, strong, and truly ticked off.

  “Damn you. Stop it.” With one last lunge he had her, lifting her high as he pulled her out of the car. Holding her tight, Daniel slammed the door shut with his foot.

  “This won’t work,” Hannah snapped.

  “Oh, yes it will.” Daniel pushed her and she staggered off the road and into the forest. “I’ll take the chip out of Archer’s phone. No one will know that woman called. Liz Driscoll doesn’t know where we were going. . . ”