"I see." Ben suppressed a smile. He loved watching Christina cross. She seemed so sweet, so fresh-faced and innocent. There was no reason at all to think she might be up to something-until she sprang the trap and you felt the cold metal teeth breaking your neck. "And when did you see Dennis Thomas?"
"Eleven fourteen at night. I made a note."
"What did you do?"
"At first he seemed content to just sit in the lobby. So I left him alone. Eventually, though, he made a move for the elevators. I followed him."
"Did you believe he was part of this smuggling ring?"
"No. But I recognized him."
"Why did you recognize him?"
"I'd seen him in the police station. When he was-you know. Coming by."
"When he was trying to get the police to open a missing persons investigation on his wife but they refused while she bled to death in her car?"
Shaw averted his eyes. "Uh, yeah."
"So you followed him. Why?"
"Well, I was afraid he might interfere with the operation."
"Why would you think that?"
"It was hard to imagine he was there by coincidence."
"Why? It's a popular hotel, isn't it?"
"Yeah. But he obviously wasn't there to spend a relaxing weekend. He seemed angry."
"How angry?"
"Very."
"Enraged?"
"I'd say so."
"Irrational?"
Shaw's eyes darted to the prosecution table.
"Don't look to the DA for your answers," Christina said. "Answer for yourself!"
"I wasn't-" He took a deep breath. "I didn't think he looked crazy, if that's what you mean."
"Why? Because the DA told you not to say he looked crazy?"
"I just… didn't think he was that bad."
"But he was bad enough for you to leave your station, which you previously wouldn't even leave to go to the bathroom, to try to intercept him."
"Well… yeah."
"Sounds like you must've thought he looked dangerous."
Shaw thought a long time before answering. "I thought he might be dangerous to our operation."
"Why did you think he was angry?"
"He had an intense expression on his face."
"You're telling me you left your post and went after him because he was making a frowny face?" As Shaw's eyes darted, she added, "And this time, answer without help from the peanut gallery!"
"I just… thought he was mad."
"Why?"
"He was muttering to himself. Under his breath."
"He was talking to himself?"
"Constantly. Over and over again."
"Did that concern you?"
"Yes."
"But it didn't seem crazy."
"Objection!" Guillerman was on his feet before Christina had finished speaking the magic word. "She's putting ideas into his mouth."
"I can lead on cross," Christina said. "He's a big boy. Can't he take care of himself without help from his master?"
"That's enough," Judge McPartland said crossly. "I'll allow the question. The witness will answer."
"I didn't think he seemed crazy," Shaw said. "Just very angry."
"What's the difference?"
Shaw hesitated a long time before answering. "I… I don't know."
Ben knew that was as good as it was going to get, but it was pretty good. Christina let that sink into the jurors' brains before she moved on.
"You also testified he was carrying a gun, right?"
"Yes."
"Did you see the gun?"
"I saw a bulge under his leather jacket."
"Ah. So when you told the jury he was carrying a gun, you actually meant that he was carrying a bulge."
"We found his gun in the hotel room."
"Move to strike," Christina said, not missing a beat. "The jury wants to know what you saw, Officer Shaw. And all you saw was a bulge."
He blew air through his teeth. "That's correct."
"And that could've been his iPod for all you know."
"Whatever."
"Did you stop him?"
"I tried."
"So what was the problem? Did the English professor overpower you?"
Ben could see Shaw was getting angry, which of course was Christina's primary objective. Angry people sometimes said things they shouldn't.
"No, but I was undercover. I couldn't flash a badge and I didn't want to create a scene. I did try to pull him to one side so we could talk, but he pushed me away and got in the elevator."
"Did you do anything further?"
"I watched the numbers light over the elevator and saw that it went to the seventh floor. Where our surveillance room was. I called Chris. Detective Sentz. Told him he might be getting a surprise visitor."
"I see. Did you have any further contact with Detective Sentz or Dennis Thomas?"
"No."
"Did you see him go into Detective Sentz's room?"
"No."
"Did you ever see him holding a gun?"
"No."
"Did you see who pulled the trigger?"
"No."
"Thank you for your honesty." She turned and started toward the defendant's table, then stopped. "Oh, one more thing."
Ben's eyebrows rose. Shades of Columbo. What was this about?
"You said Dennis Thomas was muttering. Could you hear what he was saying?"
"Um, yeah. Some of it."
"And what was he saying?"
"The same thing, over and over again. I didn't understand it at the time. Now I do."
"What was it, Officer?"
"A name. Joslyn." He paused, swallowed. "He just said her name, with that same weird fixed look on his face. 'Joslyn. Joslyn. Joslyn.' That was all."
"Thank you," Christina said, a solemn expression on her face. "No more questions for this witness, your honor."
18
On the second day of the trial, there was no evidence that public interest had subsided at all. The morning news shows had been full of coverage, reporting and predicting and commenting. Ben still had to pass through a gauntlet just to get into the courtroom. And the gallery was still full.
DA Guillerman seemed considerably less cheery than he had been the day before. This warmed Ben's heart. Perhaps he and Christina had done more damage to his case than they realized.
Ben had an easy morning. Guillerman started with a few softball witnesses. Apparently the DA subscribed to the common belief that jurors mostly saw jury duty as a sort of holiday, free time off work, so they tended to sleep in and get to the courthouse as late as possible. Consequently, there was no point in putting important witnesses on early, because most of the jurors weren't really awake yet.
He started with forensics witnesses. The first confirmed that the handgun found in the hotel room had in fact fired the bullet that killed Christopher Sentz. He also mentioned that the police had run a search and found that it had been sold and registered to one Dennis Thomas several years before.
The next two witnesses were considerably more problematic. The fingerprint analysts established that there were more than sufficient correspondences between the prints on the gun and the prints Dennis gave when he was arrested to show that he had fired the gun. On cross, Ben made the point that the prints at best showed that Dennis had held the gun-hardly unusual, since he owned it. It was a thin point-especially since no one else's prints had been found-but Ben made the most of it. The truth was, in the post-DNA universe, fingerprint analysis was not nearly as important as it once had been. But juries were comfortable with it and they expected it, and the DA wanted to keep them happy.
Guillerman's next forensic witness testified that they'd found GSR (gunshot residue) on Dennis's clothing. Ben argued on cross that since Dennis was found lying on the gun, that was hardly surprising. He also established that they did not find residue on Dennis's hands, but the expert asserted that since the test had not been taken until after Dennis had been in the
hospital for several hours, he might well have washed his hands, several times over, with hospital-strength cleansers. Basically, the testimony was a wash. It didn't help Dennis, but Ben didn't think it hurt him much, either.
The final forensic witness was the DNA expert. Traces of dead skin on the gun demonstrated that Dennis had held it. Some of those flecks were found on the trigger. It didn't take a science degree to understand what that implied. But it still was far short of conclusive proof.
The primary witness for the afternoon was Lieutenant Jimmy Babbitt. Ben knew he'd been the first responder, the first man at the crime scene, not counting the undercover agents who were already on the premises. He'd been responding to two calls, one from another resident at the hotel who'd heard the gunshot, and one from one of the undercover agents who'd become concerned when Sentz didn't call in at the appointed time. Babbitt found the hotel room door locked. He broke in and found two figures lying on the floor. Detective Sentz was dead. He had a bullet hole in his forehead. Dennis was not wounded, but he was lying on the floor only two feet away, on top of what had been established as the murder weapon. His gun.
Ben took the cross-examination. "Let's make a few things clear. You didn't see who pulled the trigger, right?"
"True." He paused. "But there were only two people in the room. And the door was locked."
"From the inside. It locks automatically, does it not? So anyone could've exited the room and left the door locked behind them."
Babbitt was a natty dresser, especially for a police witness. He was actually wearing a suit, rather than the usual sports coat and slacks. He wore a bright tie that appeared to be silk and even sported French cuffs. "I suppose. But the other officers didn't see anyone."
"The other officers themselves could've gotten in and out of the room, right?"
"Yes."
"Thank you. So the truth is, we have many potential suspects. In fact, we have no reason to exclude anyone, since the door was not monitored and anyone could've left without being observed, right?"
"If you say so."
"Did you see any signs of a struggle?"
"Not really. One chair was overturned."
"Would you expect more mess from a murderous man on a rampage?"
"Or a crazy man."
Touche. This witness was stylish and smart. Ben would have to be more careful.
"Have you ever participated in an undercover operation?"
"Yes."
"Is it typical to allow civilians into the stakeout room?"
"Well… no."
"So how did Dennis get in?"
"I don't know. I wasn't there."
"Do you think Dennis overcame Detective Sentz with brute strength?"
"He didn't have to. He had a gun."
"Detective Sentz also had a gun, did he not?"
"True enough."
"Why would Detective Sentz let him in? This man had allegedly assaulted him only a few days before."
"I don't know. It's possible he let himself in."
"There doesn't seem to be very tight security on this stakeout."
"Objection, your honor," Guillerman said wearily. "Is this relevant to anything? It sure doesn't seem so. We're trying a murder, not questioning departmental stakeout procedures."
Judge McPartland nodded. "I would appreciate it if you could move things along, Mr. Kincaid. This trial will likely be long enough just sticking to the issues that actually matter."
Ben took the hint. "I don't believe you mentioned the state you found Dennis in when you entered the room, Officer."
"I said he was lying on the ground."
"Was he conscious?"
"I'm not a doctor."
"Did he appear to be conscious?"
"His eyes were closed and he did not respond when I spoke to him. But that doesn't mean anything."
"Did he show any signs of consciousness?"
"Well…"
"Did he blink?"
"His eyes were closed."
"Did he move?"
"No."
"Did he do anything that would suggest to you that he was conscious?"
Babbitt shrugged. "I've seen fakers before."
"I didn't ask you about your past experience, Officer. I asked you about Dennis Thomas. Did he do anything that suggested to you that he was conscious?"
"I guess not."
"In your experience, do murderers normally remain at the scene of the crime?"
"No."
That was as far as Ben could take it. If he asked if there was any reason for Dennis to remain, Babbitt would suggest he was faking to set up an insanity defense. He'd established the fact of unconsciousness. He'd let the psychiatric witness connect the dots.
"Did you remain with Dennis when he was taken to the hospital?"
"Yes."
"Were the medical experts able to get a reaction out of him?"
"Not for about two hours. Then he came around."
"Did you question him?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Not much. He claimed he couldn't remember what happened after he got to the hotel."
"Thank you, Officer. No more questions."
After court recessed for the day, Ben huddled with Christina.
"How did you think that went?" he asked.
"About as well as possible."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you've got an impossible case. You can't expect to be winning, especially not while the prosecution is still putting on their evidence."
"You think we're losing?"
She dodged the question. "I'm hoping your expert is really good."
"He's written a book."
"Well, that makes him an expert. I wonder if that's why Dennis chose to see him in the first place."
"Christina…"
"Dennis is going to have to be good, too."
Ben glanced back at his client. He had been well behaved during these first two days of trial. No overt reactions. No overt scheming. No meddling in the case. But he was still a cause for concern. "You think we should put Dennis on the stand?"
"Only if you have to. But…"
"You think we'll have to."
She gave his shoulder a squeeze. "We'll make that decision when the time comes. After this next witness."
"You think this witness will be important."
She nodded. "I think if this goes badly for us, we'll need a lot more than Dennis Thomas on the stand to make it right again."
19
As soon as Dennis entered the courtroom the next day, Ben could tell he was worried.
"Do you think we're winning?"
"I have no idea. And unless you're a psychic, neither do you."
"I don't like that woman at the end of the front row of the jury box. The young one. She keeps staring at me like I remind her of her old boyfriend. The one who had an affair with her best friend and then dumped her."
Ben smiled a little. "Maybe you do. But she won't convict you for that."
"You're sure of that?"
"Yes." He was sure she would have much better reasons to convict him if she was so inclined. "Just keep doing what you're doing. The jurors are watching. They'll see that you're a good person. That will go a long way."
Dennis looked down at the table. "Ben… I know we kind of got off to a rocky start, but I appreciate what you've done for me."
"I know. You've said that."
"And I hope you also know that even if I come off a little… cold, or… calculating, it's just my way. I can't show what I'm really feeling inside. If I did, it would destroy me. I'd fall apart. Totally."
"Please don't. We need you here. One hundred percent."
"Did I ever tell you Joslyn could sing? Like an angel. She studied opera in school. Thought about doing it professionally, then decided to go into medicine. But sometimes, late at night, just for me, she'd sing." His voice caught. "Sweetest thing you ever heard."
Ben saw that his client's e
yes were watering.
"I loved my wife so much."
Ben laid his hand gently on his back. "I know you did. Do."
Ben expected Guillerman to rest his case soon, but before they could get to that blessed moment, he knew they would have to endure the man Guillerman considered his smoking gun-the "death threat" witness. Ben had interviewed him before trial and wasn't all that impressed, but it was impossible to know how something would play at trial until you observed the expressions on the jurors' faces when they heard it. Ben had no doubt the man had been woodshedded for days, rehearsed over and over again until he was just where Guillerman needed him to be.
Officer Oliver Conway was dressed in a sports coat and a bolo tie-Oklahoma chic. He worked at the downtown police station. He was what they called a triage officer; after the front desk clerk took the preliminary information, Conway helped decide whom, if anyone, the complainant would see. Consequently, he was on duty and watching most of the times Dennis had come to the station, pleading for help.
"Unfortunately, we couldn't assist him. It wasn't just Detective Sentz. We all knew the rules. We get too many of these complaints that turn out to be some kid who went over to a friend's house or a wife who got mad and moved in with her mother. We all felt sorry for him-me, Detective Sentz, Shaw, Officer Torres at the front desk. But there was nothing we could do."
Something he said triggered a lightbulb over Ben's head. He rustled through some papers to confirm what he already knew. There was no Officer Torres on the prosecution witness list.
Why not? If this man had seen it all, including everything Conway was about to describe, why wasn't he on the list?
Ben didn't have any problem with most of Conway's testimony. In fact, he thought it helped his case, letting the jury hear once again the story of this desperate man begging the police to act while they refused. Even the hardest heart would have difficulty not sympathizing after hearing that woeful tale.
Unfortunately, Officer Conway was also part of the team that was finally dispatched on the seventh day to find Joslyn Thomas.
"She must have been traveling at an extreme speed on those winding country roads," Conway explained, "because she didn't just go off the side. She plummeted down a steep ravine and then careened through some thick blackberry bushes. As a result, her car was entirely invisible from the road."
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