Vindication: Of Demons & Stones: Tri-Stone Trilogy, Book Three

by Anne L. Parks

  The photo of the blood soaked couch flashes onto the screen.

  "With respect to this photo, please describe what we are seeing," Matt says.

  A red dot appears on the screen. "This is the couch," the investigator says, making a huge circle around the piece of furniture with the laser pointer. "The dark reddish-brown is blood."

  "That is a substantial amount of blood, is it not?" Matt asks.

  Shaw nods. "Yes, the cushions were well saturated, and down here—" he points to the floor in front of the couch, "—is also blood that either dripped from the victim or from the cushions, depending on the weight of the victim."

  "Would you say that—if all this blood came from a single source, for example, one body, that it would indicate—"

  "Objection," I say as I stand. "The DA is leading the witness."

  "Sustained," Judge Franklin says, and glances at Matt. "Rephrase, counselor."

  "Could this amount of blood come from a single victim?"

  "Objection—"

  "I'll rephrase," Matt says through clenched teeth, and glares at me over his shoulder.

  Judge Franklin swivels in his chair to face Matt. "Mr. Gaines, I assume you recall the proper procedures when there is an objection? Ms. Stone voices her objection, and I rule on it. Then you conform your question, if necessary, to my decision."

  "Yes, Your Honor," Matt says, a bit sheepishly. "My apologies to the court and Ms. Stone."

  Why Matt is making such a rookie mistake—it's not like he hasn't been in a courtroom in a while? Unlike many district attorneys who deal with the administrative and political aspects of the office, Matt is very hands on and still enjoys being in the courtroom. Or, he is so narcissistic that he doesn't trust his assistant district attorneys to handle the important cases. I'm leaning toward the latter.

  "Investigator Shaw, what are the possibilities of where that amount of blood came from?"

  "It is possible the blood all came from one victim."

  Matt changes the picture on the screen to a close up of the couch. In the shot are holes in the cushions. "Directing your attention to State's exhibit C, can you explain what we are seeing in this photo?"

  "Yes, this is a close up of the couch." Shaw points to one of the holes. "This is a hole created by a bullet, as are the remainder of the holes." He points to each hole.

  "How many holes in all?"

  "Four, but as you can see, two of the holes are larger than the other four. This is from two shots entering the same holes as previous shots."

  "In your opinion, how was the victim situated on the couch when he was shot?"

  "It appears from the shell casings that were recovered that the victim was shot six times."

  Matt nods. "Inspector, prior to collecting evidence at this crime scene, were you called to another crime scene related to the one we have been discussing?"

  "Yes, I was called to the defendant's estate."

  "And what did you find there?"

  "The body of a deceased male, appeared to be mid-to-late sixties, was in the boathouse on the property."

  "And could you determine a preliminary cause of death?"

  "It appeared the man had died from several gunshot wounds."

  "And you came to this conclusion, how?"

  "The gaping hole in the center of his chest."

  Matt smiles. "Thank you, State has no further questions."

  "Ms. Stone, your witness," Franklin says, and scribbles on what I can only guess is a legal pad.

  "Thank you, Your Honor." Time to turn this around. "Investigator Shaw, I'm going to work in chronological order as it pertains to Mr. Wells death. When you were at the warehouse, did you see any drag marks that would indicate Mr. Wells had been dragged out of the office?"

  He wags his head back and forth."No."

  "Was there any evidence that something had been laid on floor—like a tarp or other comparable material—and the body placed on it?'

  "Yes, I did see evidence of that."

  "And that would be these marks here?" I use my laser pointer to circle blood smears on the floor in front of the couch.

  "Yes, I believe those are from some type of material—maybe a tarp, or a blanket—I can't say what exactly they are from."

  "But it would be plausible that whatever was laid on the floor was used to place the body in and remove it from the building?"

  "I would say that is correct."

  So far, I am liking Shaw. He's not trying to gloss over anything, he is straight up answering my questions. "You have no idea how the deceased's body was moved from this location, though, do you?"

  "No."

  "Was there a tarp or other material that could have been used to wrap the body at the boathouse when you discovered Mr. Wells' body?"

  "No, there was only the body."

  "And no gun was found at either crime scene?"

  "Correct."

  "In fact, the gun has yet to be located, isn't that right?"

  "The gun has not been found."

  I pause and double check my list of questions, but so far, I am very pleased with the testimony of this witness. "There was extensive forensic testing done on all of Alex Stone's vehicles, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "And you managed to get fingerprints and DNA from the vehicles?"

  "Yes."

  "Any of it blood?"

  "No."

  "The DNA was determined to belong to Alex, his security detail, and me, isn't that right?"

  "Yes."

  "None of it belonged to the victim?"

  "No."

  "This would include Alex's boats and jet skis, as well?"

  "That is correct."

  I smile at Shaw, then up at Franklin. "Nothing further, Your Honor."

  * * *

  I crawl into bed, and slide as close to Alex as I can get. I'm trying to temper my excitement, but I am more than happy with the trial testimony today. No matter how I try to keep my optimism from bubbling to the surface, a little seeps through, and is providing split second glimpses of Alex's freedom.

  Alex runs his fingers lightly over my back, mesmerizing me. "Why do you refer to me by my first name in court?"

  "For the same reason Matt and his witnesses only refer to you as the defendant. It's a mind game. Matt doesn't want people to be reminded that the man on trial is someone most of the jury probably respects—especially since his case is so weak."

  "And you call me Alex?"

  I rest my chin on his chest and look up at him. "So the jury sees you as one of them. You're not mega billionaire businessman that many of them would never meet during their lifetime, or run in the same circles as you. So, I need to make sure they see you as just a guy, you could be their neighbor—could be them, but by the grace of God—getting railroaded by the legal system and over zealous prosecutor."

  Alex chuckles. "God, you are brilliant."

  "I don't know about that, but I am willing to pull every trick in the book, and play every game I know, in order to make sure you are acquitted."

  "I don't have any doubts. You are kicking Matt's ass in that courtroom, baby."

  I can't help but smile. I don't want to get cocky, which is the kiss of death during a trial, but flipping Matt's case is like taking a walk in the park surrounded by an army with guns at the ready.

  Still there is something in the back of my mind that is making me very nervous. I wish I could put my finger on what is making me apprehensive, but I just can't seem to figure it out.

  Maybe the answer will come to me while I sleep. Tomorrow is a new day.

  Twenty-Nine

  The prosecution starts the day off by calling the coroner to testify. Dr. Xavier Schiffer should be on a beach in California, catching a wave. His blond, wavy hair, and always tan skin give him a youthful, fun appearance. No one looks at him and immediately thinks the thirty-four year-old man is a brilliant doctor who graduated from college at nineteen, and went to medical school. He is unlike any medical examiner I
've ever seen, but he does make it fun to come to court when he's testifying.

  Usually.

  There is nothing about this trial that makes me happy, though. I love being in the courtroom. But I can't seem to find the enjoyment in it when the man I love may go to prison for the rest of his life if I fuck this up.

  "Dr. Schiffer, you testified the victim died of injuries due to the infliction of gunshot wounds. Where was Mr. Wells shot?" Matt asks.

  "The victim was shot in the chest a total of six times. All six shots hit him center mass—meaning in the center of his chest."

  "And why is that significant?"

  Schiffer peers at the jury. "From a medical standpoint, it means each shot hit the victim's heart."

  "From your examination, could you tell what position the victim was in when he was shot?"

  "Yes, the victim was laying on his back when he was shot. All the shots came from above, passing through the body. Since the spent shells were located in the seat cushions of a couch, I would say Mr. Wells was laying on his back when he was shot, and did not move from that position. Additionally, lividity appeared along the back, buttocks, as well as parts of the legs and arms, and the heels of his feet."

  Matt nods, stroking his chin with his hand. "Can you please explain lividity and its significance to the jury?"

  "Lividity is a dark, purplish area that looks similar to a deep bruise. This occurs when the heart ceases to pump blood. At that point, gravity pulls any blood in the body to it's lowest point. In Mr. Wells case, since he was lying flat on his back on the couch when his heart stopped, the blood settled in the areas I stated."

  "Do you have an opinion as to what the victim was doing when he died?"

  "In my opinion, based on the information provided from the crime scene, I believe the victim was asleep when he was shot and killed."

  "And what leads you to believe that?"

  "Again, the fact that he was on his back on the couch, coupled with the lack of defensive wounds, leads me to this conclusion."

  "What would you expect to see as defensive wounds in a case like this?"

  "At the very least, I would expect to see a wound to the hand." Dr. Schiffer raises his hand, extending his arm in front of his chest. "A reflexive attempt to block the bullet, as ineffective as that would be, from hitting his chest. Perhaps a change in the path of one or more of the bullets from the victim shifting to avoid being shot. Things such as sitting up, rolling from one side to another—things like that. Every shot Mr. Wells received was from above him. And the shooter did not move from the spot once the shooting began."

  "Thank you, Dr. Schiffer."

  "Cross examination, Ms. Stone?" Judge Franklin asks.

  "No questions, Your Honor."

  After lunch, the state calls their ballistics expert to talk about the gun, the bullets, and how they determine it was the same gun used in Colorado to kill my kidnappers. This is potentially the hardest part of the trial because it is tedious for the attorneys and witness, and excessively boring for the jury. The best way to handle it is to get the witness off the stand as soon as possible—which is damn near impossible to do.

  Matt spends two hours examining the ballistics expert, Roy Green, going through how the bullet casings were tested, evidence of striations, and how each gun barrel is as unique as fingerprints. The jury looks as if they are ready to kill both Matt and Roy, as soon as they take a nap. This is my cue to wrap this up before I lose them. The added benefit is that I look like the hero who ended the boring madness of ballistics.

  "I just have a couple of questions for you, Mr. Green," I say, standing at the podium without notes to prove my assertion. "The coroner testified that the shots to the victim were all to the center of his chest. This would mean the shooter had to be an excellent marksman, wouldn't it?"

  "I don't know about be an excellent marksman, but I would say he would need to be comfortable with his firearm."

  "The gunman would also have been under pressure, as well, correct? I mean, shooting a man six times center mass would require someone to be calm and competent with a gun, wouldn't you agree?"

  "Yes, I would agree."

  "That's all I have. Thank you, Mr. Green."

  Matt stands. "At this time, Your Honor, the State rests our case in chief."

  Judge Franklin takes one look at the jury, and dismisses court for the day. Once the jury has left the courtroom, Franklin faces me. "Will the defense be prepared to present your case in the morning, Ms. Stone?"

  "Yes, Your Honor."

  "How long do you expect take?" He asks, flipping through his calendar.

  "We do not expect to take more than two days."

  "Very well, we will see everyone back here in the morning." Everyone in the courtroom stands as Franklin steps down from the bench and enters his chambers.

  Now the fun begins.

  Thirty

  "Call your first witness, Ms. Stone."

  Okay, here it goes. My heart is beating so hard in my chest, it sounds like a timpani drum in my ears. This is, without a doubt, the biggest trial strategy decision I have ever made. This could end the trial right now, or send Alex to prison.

  No pressure.

  I'm confident in my decision, even if my heart, stomach, and nerves aren't as convinced.

  "The defense rests, Your Honor."

  The courtroom is unusually quiet. Judge Franklin stares at me for a moment, and I can feel Matt's eyes on me, also.

  Franklin comes out of his stunned stupor. "I'm assuming you will be making a motion, Ms. Stone?"

  "Yes, Your Honor."

  He excuses the jury.

  "Your Honor, at this time I would like to make a motion to dismiss the charges, as the State has not proven the elements of first degree murder or that the evidence shows beyond a reasonable doubt that Alex Stone killed James Wells. For these reasons, the defense requests the case be dismissed with prejudice."

  "I will take your motion under advisement, Ms. Stone. In the meantime, I suggest you both prepare closing statements in the event I rule against the defense. I will have an answer for you tomorrow morning. Court is in recess until that time."

  "Do you think he will dismiss the case?" Alex asks.

  I glance at Jack who is sitting next to Alex, and shake my head. "No, he won't. This is just one of those things we have to do."

  "Why? What good does it do to ask if you know we won't get it?"

  I look down at my bag as I shove my legal pads inside. I don't want to answer this question.

  "Well, it never hurts to ask, in case the judge agrees," Jack says. "But, it really boils down to having a complete record…in the event we need it for an appeal."

  "Oh," Alex says. He takes a deep breath. "Smart move, but we won't need it. There will be no appeal, because there is no way I will be found guilty."

  I tap my knuckles on the table to stave off tempting fate to laugh her ass off at us as Alex waltzes into prison for the rest of his life.

  Thirty-One

  "A circumstantial case is like a frog leaping from one lily pad to another," I say to the jurors, beginning my closing argument. "It's unlike a clear-cut case where there is DNA evidence, a murder weapon, and an undisputed motive. In that type of case, it's easy to get from one lily pad to the next. But in a circumstantial case, it's not a simple step from one to the other, but a leap from here to there. Now, that's not to say the leap is not insurmountable. It's achievable— it's plausible. But that's not the case we have.

  "The prosecution has pushed the lily pad so far out that it leaves one to wonder if the jump can actually be made. There's so much distance between lily pads and that space is filled with the defenses explanations. The explanations are easy— because they're common sense. Let's break down the case."

  I take a step towards the juror box.

  "The evidence shows the victim was killed in an abandoned warehouse owned by Alex Stone. The crime scene investigator testified that the body was placed into some t
ype of material, perhaps a tarp or a rug, and removed from the scene. He also testified that no blood evidence has been found in any vehicle belonging to, or owned by Alex Stone, his company, or any friends and family. That's a pretty amazing feat, don't you think? They want you to believe that all on his own my client managed to remove the dead weight of a man who was in excess of two hundred and thirty pounds. Without dragging. Carrying him down these unstable metal steps— all without getting a single drop of blood on the floor, on stairs, or in his vehicle. The leap from that lily pad to the next falls way short.

  " Let's say you manage to climb up onto the second lily pad of circumstantial evidence. The prosecution theory laid out next is that Alex removed the body from the warehouse and brought it to his home. Now, this is an abandoned warehouse. You heard the states witness testify that no one from Stone holdings had checked the warehouse in a couple of months. According to their investigation, the warehouse was checked only every six months."

  I stand and stare at the jury for a moment, squishing my eyebrows together for effect. They need to feel as confused about this crazy line of thought as I am.

  "I will concede that I'm not the best at math, but even I can do the math on this. Two months into a six-month period leaves four months before anyone checks on the warehouse." I pause, and look the jury. "Why? Why would someone move the body from a place there was almost no chance of discovery for at least four months to their own residence where it is discovered in a matter of hours?"

  Glancing over my shoulder at Lisa, I nod for her to put up the next slide on the screen. "You might expect that along with the victim's body, there would be whatever was used to wrap the victim in for transportation, along with the murder weapon. Neither of these objects were found. Ever. To this day, even with the extensive searches, neither one of them has been recovered." Sweeping my arm across my body, I pivot and point to the prosecution table. "Mr. Gaines told you in his closing argument that Alex got rid of the tarp and the gun." I face the jury again, intentionally scrunching my facial expression. "Huh? After killing a man, taking his body from a very secure location where it was doubtful to be discovered for quite some time, moving it to his residence, in some unknown vehicle, Alex decides to get rid of the murder weapon and whatever was used to wrap the body. Not only did he get rid of these items—he did it successfully. No one can find them. That's how good he was. But he didn't get rid of the body.