The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  "Was there specific behavior that concerned the department?"

  "An excessive force complaint was filed against the defendant," the witness answered.

  "What exactly was the defendant accused of doing?"

  "The defendant was cited for using excessive force in the arrest of a sixteen-year-old boy. It resulted in the boy being hospitalized," the detective informed her.

  "Was this unusual behavior for the defendant?"

  "Yes, it was. But it was also understandable."

  "How so," Ruth queried.

  "The defendant's attitude toward the job could be traced to the diagnosis of his wife's pancreatic cancer."

  "Objection," Josie called. "Facts not in evidence."

  Ruth took care of the matter promptly, introducing the time line of Lexi's illness and the complaints against Archer. It was a small bit of legal housekeeping. When it was done, she got back to the meat of the matter.

  "Wouldn't rage have been considered normal under the circumstances?" Ruth continued.

  "Objection!" Josie was on her feet. "This man is not a doctor. He cannot make a diagnosis."

  "Sustained. Ask again, Ms. Alcott," the judge directed.

  "Did the defendant ever personally offer you any insight into his behavioral changes?"

  "He alternately expressed denial and rage at his wife's condition. His anger became more prevalent as she became sicker. He became quite vocal about his situation."

  "Wouldn't you expect that of a man who was facing the loss of his wife?"

  "Yes, except the defendant's anger was exacerbated by his belief that his wife, while expressing deep concern about how her son would fare after her death, had expressed no such concern about him, her husband. Archer often talked about that. He thought she should be worried about him since he was the one taking care of her, paying the bills, getting her to the doctor."

  Josie cast a sidelong glance at Archer. He was rigid beside her, his jaw clenched tight so she could see the cording of muscle that ran down the side of his neck. She put her hand on his knee, not as a sign of comfort or fealty but to gauge the extent of his agitation. It was off the charts.

  "Did he often talk about money?" Ruth asked.

  "Yes. He was concerned about the expenses that were being incurred."

  "Was the defendant eventually relieved of duty because of his demeanor?"

  "No. He was reassigned to a desk position, was unhappy with that and finally took his retirement. I believe his wife died some three or four weeks later."

  "So, the defendant resigned as an officer of the law the week Timothy Wren died, is that correct?"

  "That is correct." Tom Ford answered without looking Archer's way.

  Ruth nodded and thanked her witness. Josie took up the charge, rounding her table as if she was storming the witness box.

  "Sir, are you aware that the defendant's wife was a paramedic and, as such, was covered by county insurance?"

  "I knew she was a paramedic."

  "Then why would the defendant worry about money when his wife had catastrophic insurance?"

  "I don't know the specifics of the policy," the chief answered.

  "We will stipulate to catastrophic insurance coverage," Ruth said and Josie found her indifference worrisome.

  "Would you then stipulate that your assessment of the defendant's state of mind regarding money would be inaccurate?'

  The man shook his head.

  "No, I would not. The defendant told me directly that his wife wanted her son to undergo an experimental operation. I was informed that co-pays on his wife's treatment, along with the anticipated expense of experimental treatment for the boy, caused the defendant great concern. Money was a big problem. I know that for sure."

  Josie began the next question but never finished. Something was wrong. The courtroom seemed suddenly odd, out of kilter. It was as if she was standing on the deck of a boat and had lost the horizon. Bits and pieces of information had been swirling around her like currents running in the wrong direction, picking up her tiny boat and moving it inch by inch away from the shore until, suddenly, Josie realized she was lost. She had no oars with which to row back to land. Indeed, there was no land in sight.

  "Ms. Bates? Ms. Bates!"

  Josie shook herself free of the mind drift. She fought the urge to look at Archer. She wanted to ask him what she was supposed to do. They were painting a picture of a selfish man, a man out of control, a man concerned with money and not with life, a man who lied by omission or silence, even to her.

  Archer looked back at her, not with answers, but with demands. She waited for something to pass between them but what she heard instead was her father's voice.

  You are supposed to fight.

  Her mother was there in her head, too.

  Run away before this eats you alive.

  She shook her mother's spirit away and held onto her father's. She was his daughter. If she ran she would lose herself and her purpose and, maybe worst of all, she would be abandoning Archer.

  "I'm sorry, Your Honor." Josie cleared her throat and addressed the witness. "Sir, was it your professional opinion when you reassigned my client that he was a danger to anyone's life?"

  "No, it was not," he answered. "I would have relieved him of duty if I thought that."

  "Was the excessive force complaint indicted?" Josie asked.

  "No, it was not."

  "Thank you," Josie muttered.

  Cutting her losses, she went back to the table and sat beside Archer. When he leaned toward her, whispering that he and Lexi had only talked about that operation for Tim, that he had not taken on an excessive financial burden, that his edginess was normal, that no one could blame him for that, Josie cut him off. They would discuss it later. Ruth Alcott was calling the lawyer for Lexi's estate. He didn't have much to say, but what he did say was indisputably damaging.

  Lexi had a minimal life insurance policy, but she had an apartment building in Hermosa Beach and Tim, her son, was due to inherit after his mother's death. But Tim died first and it was established that Archer was next in line to take over that little piece of real estate.

  "And how much did the defendant hope to gain?"

  "Substantial income from the rental units should he retain the apartment building in Hermosa Beach and approximately four million if he had sold it at the time of her death. Of course," the witness said. "The market has continued to appreciate so, today, the property could realize a million and a half more."

  "Not bad," Ruth said with a grin, "for taking out a retarded kid."

  "Your Honor, that is outrageous!"

  Josie objected to Ruth's base comment but even she had to admit there was something to be said for a motive that included that kind of money. She passed on the cross and Ruth called Mr. Hillerman, Pacific Park's attorney.

  He had been present when Pacific Park made an offer of a settlement to Lexi. She refused any monies despite her husband's strenuous urging that she take her time and think about it. The defendant's wife was adamant. All she wanted from Pacific Park was for them to bury her son. They did so in the finest manner. No expense was spared.

  Finally, Roger McEntyre took the stand. The day was ending and so was Ruth's presentation. Josie lay gasping for breath in this ring, trying to figure out how to go down with some glimmer of hope that she'd be back to fight another day.

  Roger McEntyre narrated as the videotape of Tim Wren's death played. He answered questions regarding the recent assault on Eric Stevens. Roger spoke of how he feared the defendant would kill Eric Stevens the same way. . .well, Eric was a young boy.

  Josie wanted to scream at his implication and mischaracterization yet when it was her turn with him Josie was all business. She approached carrying with her a long roll of paper.

  "Mr. McEntyre, can you tell me why there are surveillance cameras at Pacific Park?" Josie was cool, confident and didn't impress Roger McEntyre one bit.

/>   "They are there for a number of reasons."

  "Give me two," Josie suggested, trying not to think about the hole Ruth Alcott had punched through her gut.

  "The cameras provide our patrons with a sense of security. They provide a record in case anything goes wrong at the park."

  "Like the video we just saw of the accident?" Josie asked.

  "Yes," Roger answered.

  "As head of security you must know where the cameras are located in the park."

  "I do."

  "You must also know how many cameras are trained on each ride," Josie challenged.

  "More or less. I would have to refer to our latest maintenance records to be specific. The park is a work in progress. We are always changing things. No safety system is perfect. Our camera system is not perfect."

  "Mr. McEntyre, when we spoke at Pacific Park you told me you had one tape – the one we have seen in this courtroom – that recorded the accident on the Shock & Drop the day Tim Wren died."

  "That is correct." Roger nodded.

  "Do you still say that, Mr. McEntyre?"

  "I still say I have one tape of the accident from a camera that was focused on that piece of machinery."

  "Why aren't there more, Mr. McEntyre?" Josie asked.

  "Because that's all I have, Ms. Bates."

  Josie unrolled the blueprint in her hand and blessed Wilson Page as she spread it out in front of Roger.

  "Mr. McEntyre, can you tell me what these are?"

  "They are the blueprints of the electrical schematic of the park dated in the year 2003."

  "And will you identify this for the court." Josie pointed to the blueprints.

  "That is the east quadrant of the park and the indicator stamps denote the cameras located in the area."

  "And this camera in particular, Mr. McEntyre. Can you tell me what that camera was recording?"

  "That particular camera recorded activity in front of the Shock & Drop."

  "Were you able to see the ride itself, particularly the bottom half of the ride just at the slowing curve?"

  "I don't know."

  "Or you won't tell us," Josie suggested as she took away the blueprint.

  "I don't know," Roger said flatly. "That camera was dismantled when we reconfigured the area for a new attraction. We extended the common area because the new ride was smaller. That camera no longer exists."

  "But it was working on the day of Tim Wren's death, is that correct, Mr. McEntyre?"

  "To the best of my knowledge."

  "And who reviews the security tapes, sir?" Josie asked.

  "In a situation such as we had that day, I would," Roger acknowledged.

  "And you're telling me you don't remember if that tape allowed a view of the bottom half of a ride on which a young man died?"

  "I didn't remember what was on the first one until I reviewed it again."

  "Then why didn't you review the second one?" Josie demanded.

  "Because there is no tape to review, Ms. Bates."

  Josie's pulse quickened.

  "Did you destroy that tape, Mr. McEntyre?"

  Roger hesitated. His mustache twitched but his gaze never faltered.

  "Yes, I did."

  "Did you destroy that tape because something on it would exonerate my client?" she asked, daring to hope that this would end the matter and Archer would walk free.

  Roger McEntyre tipped his head. His dark eyes held hers. She thought he smiled. Josie thought he was toying with her. She knew it when he answered her question.

  "I destroyed it because that camera was on common ground. It is normal procedure at the park to keep those tapes for nine months. It is only the ride specific videos that are kept for a couple of years. Does that answer your question, Ms. Bates?"

  "Yes," she muttered, disheartened. "Yes, it does."

  Roger McEntyre was excused. Those who stayed in the courtroom were silent, waiting to hear what the judge thought of the evidence presented. It didn't take long to find out. The judge looked at Josie and Archer and delivered a well-rehearsed speech that changed their lives.

  "The court finds probable cause to believe these charges are true and orders the defendant to appear for arraignment in department one hundred in ten days. Court is adjourned."

  It was so little to say, but there it was. Archer, knowing he would stand trial for murder, didn't look back at Josie as he was led away. She didn't call after him. Ruth packed up and took off without a word to anyone, just a look of pleasure on her face and another hitch of those pants over her wide hips. Spectators lingered, looking at Josie, wondering why she had not found some point of drama, some small thing to turn this around in a blaze of glory. Wasn't this, after all, the attorney who had so dramatically defended that girl not long ago? She shouldn't have lost her edge so soon, should she? The show should have been better, shouldn't it?

  Josie felt those thoughts, felt their eyes on her back as she slowly packed away her papers. She looked at the seal of the state hanging above the judge's bench but she found no comfort in it. Finally, hearing nothing, sensing the emptiness behind her Josie picked up her briefcase and started to leave only to find she wasn't alone.

  Sitting on the furthest bench was Colin Wren. The light caught the lenses of his glasses, his hair was neatly combed, his suit was freshly pressed and he didn't move even when Josie pushed through the bar. The little gate swung back and forth, the thump echoing through the nearly empty chamber. Josie put her hand back to stop it before she walked down the center aisle. Josie thought to speak to him. She wanted to explain that there was a very long way to go, that he should not be discouraged but Colin preempted her. He got up. He stepped into the aisle and made sure Josie was looking right at him. He turned. He left her alone.

  ***

  "Jesus Christ."

  Jude palmed his cell phone and closed his fist as if he could crush it. Seven months, hundreds of billable hours not to mention his own belief that Colin Wren's suit against Pacific Park was warranted, and now this.

  Biting his lip, he swerved around a mini-van filled with what looked to be a dozen kids, took the turn five miles faster than he should and braked to a stop in front of Wilson's house not caring that three quarters of the Mercedes was hanging over in the red near a hydrant. Wilson Page's neighborhood wasn't high on the list of drive-bys for the meter maid and, with the financial hit Jude was about to take, a parking ticket was the least of his worries.

  Leaving his jacket, Jude slammed the car door and walked to Wilson's house, wishing he hadn't planned this work session. When things took a turn for the worse, Jude preferred the company of a willing woman with a quick wit to Wilson's, but what the hell. He was here. Jude knocked hard, rapping twice. He walked in before Wilson even had time to give him permission to enter.

  "Jude!" Wilson greeted him happily from his perch in front of the huge computer screen.

  "We won't be working on Colin's stuff, Wilson. Forget it. Just forget everything." Jude walked the length of the small room and back again. "Colin just called. He's dropping the lawsuit against Pacific Park. He says if Josie somehow pulls this out it won't matter because he knows the truth. Colin says Archer's guilty as sin."

  Frustrated, Jude pocketed his keys and flopped himself on the couch. It was the wrong side. He fell into the indentation that Wilson had made when he used to be small enough to sit on a sofa. That was it. Fit to be tied, Jude pushed himself up, walked past Wilson and said:

  "There's no sense working now, Wilson. It would be a waste of our time. I'll call you later if something changes." Jude was at the door. He had his hand on the knob and, when he opened it, he looked at Wilson. He saw the man's sympathy and his unerring devotion and his neediness and suddenly it just pissed Jude Getts off to no end. "Get a goddamn new couch, will you Wilson?"

  CHAPTER 28

  Josie was slumped in a chair in Faye Baxter's office, dribbling her volleyball on the floor beside her. Out
side Faye's office Angie, the paralegal, and yet another new receptionist dealt with the everyday problems of a neighborhood law firm. Faye should be doing the same but Josie had appeared, needing a sympathetic ear and an objective opinion.

  "Jude's throwing in the towel. He told me I'm on my own."

  "It doesn't sound like he has much of a choice. His client pulled the plug. What's he supposed to do?"

  "Hang in there with me," Josie wailed. "Archer wouldn't be in this fix if it wasn't for Jude and Colin. If the situation was reversed I'd still. . ."

  One look at Faye was enough to make Josie back pedal, albeit reluctantly.

  "Okay. Okay. If it looked like I was out thirty grand maybe I would do the same thing but it does not change the fact that Archer does not have the money to pay for the kind of research we need. It really ticks me off that Jude's going to cut Wilson off."

  "So, it's going to be hard. You still have a client and a trial. You're not going to do Archer any good if you're obsessed about Jude Getts."

  "I'm not obsessed and I'm not side-tracked," Josie griped. "I just needed to vent. Maybe I'm not mad about all that anyway. Maybe I'm worried that Archer might be guilty."

  Josie dribbled the ball in rhythm with her words as if that alone would herd all those nasty emotions into a box that she could stow away. Loss of faith in Archer, in herself, anger and disappointment at Jude, worry about Hannah – Josie needed all those feelings to go away so she could concentrate.

  "Give me the ball, Josie," Faye clucked. "You're driving me crazy. I can't think when you're doing that."

  Faye held out her hands but Josie palmed the treasured ball, a present from her father when she earned her volleyball scholarship to USC. She held it tight against her stomach, a round, rubbery security blanket. Faye pulled a face, the kind you would give an unruly, yet basically, good child.

  It was a pity things had not worked out between them. Faye had been so anxious to bring Josie on as a partner in her neighborhood firm. Yet Josie's commitment to Hannah's trial, the uproar it created in a firm ill equipped to handle such a high profile case, changed everything. Faye had cut Josie loose, the partnership never materializing. Thankfully, their friendship endured. They had come to an agreement that worked for both of them. Josie would pay a nominal fee to use Faye's offices and staff; Faye would use Josie's services as needed. It was an arrangement that suited them both – especially Faye. She was too old for the kind of worry Josie was bringing, but she wasn't too old to put in her two cents when it was asked for.