by James Glass
“Not in the face, Sam. Your breath stinks.” Jake probably stunk too, but Aunt Marti thought he was the all-American guy or something. She might have been impressed, but I wasn’t. I stood and grabbed a treat from a Tupperware dish on the kitchen counter, supposed to clean dog’s teeth while freshening their breath. Maybe I should get my money back. I tossed it to Sam who swallowed it whole. “Sam, you have to chew or it doesn’t work.”
“Let me think about it,” I said.
“It’s two old friends catching up, Rebecca. That’s all. No strings attached.”
This guy wasn’t going to let this go. How bad could it be? After all, people could change, right? Maybe Mr. Conceited Jerk from high school had changed into Mr. Nice Guy after all the years. And if it turned out Jake the Jock was a stalker, well, that’s what pepper spray was for.
“All right, how about we meet at Sully’s tomorrow night. Eight o’clock.”
“Works for me. See you then.”
After disconnecting, something inside me decided to make a call that I probably should have made years ago. The number for the Boston homicide division was saved in my phone. There were countless nights I would look at the number, but never had the nerve to call. Sam sat and looked up at me, her big brown eyes staring into mine as if to say, “Do it, already.”
I tapped the number and waited. After seven rings it went to voicemail.
“You’ve reached Boston Homicide. If you know your party’s extension, enter it now. If not, leave a detailed message and a call-back number and someone will get back with you. If this is an emergency, call nine-one-one.”
After the beep, I contemplated hanging up. But this was uncharted territory for me. My gut told me to leave a message, but my mind leaned toward disconnecting and calling it quits. After all, with no new leads or a suspect, what could Rebecca Watson do to solve a cold case? Twenty-three years was a long time.
Sam cocked her head sideways.
Okay, Okay.
“This is Sergeant Watson of the Eugene Falls Police Department. I have a question concerning a cold case. Please give a call back.” I left my number and hung up.
I realized my hands were shaking. Thoughts buzzed in my head. What if they give me access to the file? What will I do with it? Can I really do this? Where would I start the investigation? Would there even be an investigation?
Sam nudged her head against my leg.
I opened the door. A warm breeze greeted us. The night sky looked inviting as the moon hung over a large oak tree.
A walk might calm me down.
Chapter 25
Monday, 8:30 a.m.
I parked the Jeep along the curb across the street from the courthouse and hung a Eugene Falls Police Department tag on the rearview mirror. I shut the engine off and sat in silence.
The threat of my past being exposed for all to witness and the terrible sense of timing about my stepdad had twisted a lump of anxiety at the bottom of my throat. I’d been dreading this moment all my life. Well, maybe not my whole life. More like the moment my mother decided to show her wicked self to me Friday. Guess it was time to get this over with and move on. What an understatement.
My cell buzzed. Private Caller. I didn’t know who it was and didn’t care at the moment. All I wanted was to go back to bed and sleep until the trial ended. The mobile chirped. Whoever it was left a message. It would remain a mystery until my first break. Veronica had warned me today would be a long day. Too bad it couldn’t be tomorrow. Or next week. How about never.
A terrible fear gripped my insides. It’s not too late to start the engine, throw the Jeep in reverse and bolt.
I took several deep breaths then exited my mobile sanctuary.
The bright sun greeted me as I crossed the street. A line formed outside the courthouse and stretched down the block. Lucius’s trial was a spectacle everyone wanted to see. Seats were a hot commodity. Except for the media, family members, and a few reserved for some big-name movie stars.
From several high-profile cases I’ve worked over the years, I knew most of the crowd had stayed overnight in hopes of getting a ringside seat to today’s event.
If Lucius won, I’m sure there was a book deal to be signed or a movie in the works. If a movie, I hoped it’d be lucky to air on Lifetime. Not that I wanted to dismiss Teri Goodson’s murder as trivial, but the thought of millions flocking to the theatres to watch Lucius on the big screen sickened me.
A burly guard was posted outside the double doors to the courthouse. I flashed my badge and the sentry waved me through. There was a short line as people stepped through the security checkpoint. When my turn came, I handed the guard my badge and walked through the scanner. He handed it back and I headed toward the courtroom.
****
My insides felt like they were being ripped out as I took the stand. The judge reminded me I was still under oath.
Lucius smiled at me the way someone does when they haven’t seen an old friend in years. The thought of running over and smashing his face was tempting. To see his nose caved in by my fist. See if that grin remained as blood poured out of his beak. But it might send the wrong message to the jury. No need to give the creep the satisfaction of me returning a smile. Of course, that might send the wrong message to the jury as well.
My gaze looked past him. My mother sat in the first row and two seats to the right of Lucius. Her face had so much makeup it reminded me of a porcelain doll that might break if you knocked her over. She’d dressed in jeans and a gray Elvis Presley sweater, which I found odd since it was summer. She saw me looking at her and winked.
My eyes darted to Veronica. I could tell by her muted expression she’d seen my reaction to my mother. Her hands, which were palm down on the table raised slightly in the air, gesturing me to calm down. I knew she was right.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, so the jurors couldn’t see I was flustered. You can do this.
Crane, who wore another expensive suit, this one slate gray, a cream-colored shirt, and silver tie, stood from the defense table and waddled to the podium with a yellow pad. Veronica had told me he was defending Lucius Pro Bono. She said he would get paid on the back end if Lucius struck pay dirt with a lawsuit for a wrongful conviction.
When Crane reached the lectern, a mere ten feet from his seat, his breathing was labored. Maybe he’d have a heart attack before he continued his cross-examination from Friday. A girl could dream.
He flipped through several pages.
“Detective Watson, on Friday we discussed the knife located in the trunk of your partner’s car. When you—”
“Which partner are you referring to?” Everyone in the courtroom knew who the defense attorney was referring to, but I figured if I could interrupt any momentum, it might work to my advantage.
He smiled. “Sergeant Hayes.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now that we have that resolved, when you arrived at the scene twenty-two minutes after the accident—”
“You mean the accident that killed him?”
Crane held up his hands. “Your Judgeship. Would you please instruct the witness to let me finish a question before answering?”
Apparently, I was reduced to ‘witness’ instead of my title.
Meeks turned to me, his cheeks flush. He didn’t look happy. It was probably my fault, or maybe he didn’t have his coffee yet. I could certainly go for a caffeine boost about now.
“Detective! You will hold your tongue until Counselor has finished his question. Don’t disappoint me again.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Crane turned several pages. It seemed my intrusion may have worked. He cleared his throat and flipped another page.
“When you arrived at the scene twenty-two-minutes after the accident, your partner had blood on his shirt, correct?”
Guess my plan failed.
“Yes.”
“Was any blood found in the trunk of his sedan?”
“I would have to re
fer to my notes.”
Crane smiled, revealing his perfect teeth. My gut tightened, because I had walked right into the trap. If I hadn’t mentioned the last statement and told the truth, maybe I could have salvaged the disaster about to unfold. My gaze moved to the prosecution table. Theriot stared at her notepad, a pen in her hand but not writing anything. She does this when one of her witnesses goes off script. Guess that would be me.
My palms were clammy. I realized if Lucius was found not guilty it would be because of my testimony and the way I was being selfish.
Okay, Rebecca. From here on out be open and truthful. No more deception or…
A soft hum echoed above me and to the left as the white screen rolled down from the ceiling. The lights dimmed in the courtroom. “I’m going to show you what has been pre-marked as exhibits 1F through 10F.”
Veronica flipped through a binder.
Gasps emitted softly from the peanut gallery as a decapitated head appeared on the screen.
Veronica shot from her seat. “Your Honor! What does this photo have to do with the testimony?”
The judge waved both lawyers to step forward for a sidebar so the jurors wouldn’t hear the conversation. Meeks turned to the defense attorney and whispered in a harsh tone that I was able to hear from my seat. “Yes. Please explain yourself, Counselor.”
“I’m trying to paint a picture of the scene. It’s the testimony of this expert witness that the knife couldn’t have been contaminated.”
He didn't refer to me by my title, again. Where was he going with this?
Meeks held up a hand. “No need to expound on the knife because the Florida Supreme Court already ruled on this matter.” He gritted his teeth. At least the judge wasn’t mad at me. That was a good thing, right? “It’s been well established by both parties present the knife is inadmissible. So I’ll ask again, why is this gruesome picture posted in my courtroom?”
“Yes, Your Judgeship. I’m not trying to question the decision of the Florida Supreme Court. I’m only trying to show the jury this expert witness failed to document the scene. Which means the tip recovered from the medical examiner should also be excluded.”
Veronica gave a sideways glance. “This is an automobile accident, not a crime scene, Your Honor. Responsibility falls to the Florida Highway Patrol to investigate, not the Eugene Falls Police Department. Not to mention, if Counsel wanted to argue the evidence collected by the ME, he should have done so before now.”
Crane pointed to the screen with an index finger. “I disagree. The knife, evidence from a crime scene, was being transported to the Eugene Falls Police Department when the accident occurred. Since the officer on the scene passed away, it should have fallen to the responding officer, Detective Watson, to perform her duties as an investigator. She failed miserably and the prosecution doesn’t want me to prove it to the jury. If this is the kind of sloppy police work the city pays for, then it should be admissible at this time.”
The man was good. He was trying to get the jury to question my testimony.
Meeks chewed on this a moment. Then he shooed the lawyers away. “Overruled on the accident. But no more decapitated heads.” He wagged a finger at Crane. “And you should know better than to try and exclude evidence after a trial has begun. Don’t try it again.”
Veronica glared at me. I couldn’t blame her.
Crane smiled like a child who was chastised by mom instead of getting a spanking by dad. “Yes, Your Judgeship.”
Another picture flashed on the screen. A white sedan with the front end smashed. The trunk open. “What’s this a picture of, Detective Watson?”
“Sergeant Hayes’s Impala.”
“Is this how you found the vehicle when you arrived twenty-two-minutes after the accident?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take this picture?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“It’s marked as being taken by The Florida Highway Patrol.”
Another photo appeared on the screen. A red Chevrolet Malibu with the front end mangled, the hood in an inverted ‘V’ pattern. The driver-side tire was missing.
“Is this the second vehicle involved in the accident?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take this picture?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Again, it’s marked as being taken by The Florida Highway Patrol.”
He flashed through more pictures asking if I’d taken any to which I stated no, they had been taken by the Florida Highway Patrol. The man droned on and I wondered if he had a point to any of this.
He pressed the clicker. The photo depicted a man on a gurney. There was a deep gash in the forehead. Blood stained his shirt. His hands and fingers were caked in crimson. “Can you identify the person in this photo?”
A lump formed in my throat. This was the first picture of Hayes I’d seen since his funeral, and I felt guilty for it. He deserved better. “It’s my deceased partner, Sergeant Hayes.”
Crane raised his hands. “Your Judgeship, would you instruct the witness to answer the question and not elaborate?”
Veronica stood. “Detective Watson was asked a question and gave the answer. The fact remains, Sergeant Hayes is dead.”
“Overruled.” Meeks massaged his temples with his fingers. Then he banged his gavel harder than needed. “This is a good time for a fifteen-minute recess.”
Chapter 26
10:30 a.m.
I filed out of the courtroom along with about two-hundred others. Veronica walked toward me.
“We need to talk.” She said it in such a calm voice, I wondered if she wasn’t worried about what happened…getting my butt handed to me again by defense. Maybe she was calm so no one around would know she was angry. We shuffled through the crowd and entered the hallway. The sun greeted us as we walked through the double-doors and made our way down the steps of the courthouse. It was going to be a hot day, and the humidity was so thick you could already swim in it.
“First of all, I want you to know I’m not upset about the crappy testimony you’re giving on the stand.”
Tell me how you really feel.
“How come you’re not mad?”
She turned and looked at me. “The defense is trying to shift the blame to you. It’s a clever disguise to try and trick the jury. Right now, he’s making it appear you screwed up at the accident, but what the jury doesn’t know is that wasn’t your job. No matter how many pictures he plasters on the screen or words to back up his twisted theory, he won’t be able to avoid the issue of this trial—which is the murder of Teri Goodson. Don’t get me wrong, Crane will try and bury it under his cross-examination of you today, and I’m sure he’ll keep his momentum moving. The jury will probably hate you by the end of the day if he’s successful.”
I shook my head. The testimony so far didn’t worry me. Well, actually it did. My fear was what he would ask about my past. It didn’t seem fair the world would know about that night. I’ve spent the last twenty years trying to forget it, to let the wounds, still scabbed over, heal, only to have them ripped open, exposing the painful truth underneath.
“We need to get back inside.” Veronica placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about your testimony. We’ll get through this.”
Chapter 27
10:46 a.m.
I got to the witness stand as the bailiff called for everyone to rise. Veronica didn’t look happy with my timing. Her focus may have been on this trial and sending Lucius back to prison, but my mind was on The Silencer case.
Don’t get me wrong, I wanted Lucius back in his cage, but I knew he wouldn’t be roaming the streets killing people. Although he was a monster, he was contained for the moment. If the jury found him innocent, then I’d worry. But for the time being, the case at hand took precedence over the trial in my opinion.
Crane moved to the podium. He eyed the jury.
“Detective Watson, you stated previously that it was y
our opinion the knife was not contaminated.” He turned to the screen and used a pointer with a green dot to a spot on the screen.
“What’s this on Sergeant Hayes’s hands?”
“It appears to be blood.”
“Appears,” he said in a mocking voice. “Don’t you recognize blood when you see it?” He raised his hands in the air. “After all, aren’t you an expert witness?”
Veronica stood. “Your Honor, Defense is badgering the witness.”
Crane shrugged. “If the witness is an expert in her field, surely she knows what blood looks like. For God’s sake, she was at the scene. Did she believe this was strawberry jam on her partner’s hands?”
Meeks glared at defense counsel. “Sustained. And Counselor, you will not talk down to me in my courtroom.”
“Yes, Your Judgeship.” Crane moved the green dot to the shirt displayed on the screen. “Detective, what’s this on Sergeant Hayes’s shirt?”
“Again, it appears to be blood.”
He moved the green dot to the deep gash. He opened his mouth as if to demean my answer again, caught the judge glaring down at him, and seemed to have thought better of it. Crane cleared his throat. “Do you know if the paramedics cleaned the area of your partner’s face around the wound when they tried to revive him?”
“No.”
“Is that ‘no, they didn’t clean the blood’ or ‘no, you don’t know?’”
“I don’t know.”
“So you didn’t ask the paramedics?”
Veronica chimed in. “Asked and answered, Your Honor.”
“Overruled.”
My head swiveled toward the screen. I did this not so much to look at the picture but to let the jury see my face. My eyes began to water. If they saw the sadness I felt that night, maybe they would have compassion for me and maybe forgive me for being deceptive during this cross-examination. I blinked as several tears escaped and rolled down my cheeks. Some could argue the tears were for show, but the raw emotion for the loss of my partner tugged at me.
“I never asked them.” My bottom lip quivered.