Eyewitness (Thriller/Legal Thriller - #5 The Witness Series) (The Witness Series #5)

by Forster, Rebecca

  “Just one at eleven,” Wendy said

  “Well before the fireworks started. Note that one of Oi’s corporations owned the house where he died. The manager says he put Rosa in personally, but she paid the rent. Oi wasn’t keeping her, but he was helping her out.” Mike checked his watch. “Billy is scheduled for his psyche evaluation today. We can talk to him tomorrow.”

  “You should have had first crack at him. Why do they treat kids like they’re something special?” Wendy gathered her work.

  “Because they are,” Mike reminded her.

  “Oh, come on,” she rolled her eyes. “Harbor General’s emergency room is filled with minors on the wrong end of some other angry kid’s gun or knife. It’s a zoo, Mike. Billy Zuni isn’t any different because he lives in that idyllic little patch of sunshine and likes to swim in the sea.”

  “Tell me how you really feel.” Mike raised a brow and Wendy laughed.

  “I’m just saying that we lose our edge down here, we look the other way and chalk up drugs and drinking to the way things are at the beach. I’ve never liked the wink and the nod. We don’t see the bad stuff that often in the South Bay, but that’s no excuse for getting lazy. You know why?”

  “I’ll bite,” Mike said.

  “Because when something really bad goes down, we get all courteous. We don’t think bad enough. We don’t think big enough. We’re provincial.”

  “Billy offers some special challenges, but the midnight swim isn’t evidence of anything.”

  “My money’s on him,” Wendy said. “Always has been.”

  “Then prove it,” Mike challenged.

  “I will, my friend. Just give me another ten hours, and I’ll have a surprise for you.” Wendy stood up and hugged her files like schoolbooks. “I haven’t been sitting on my gorgeous behind while you’re out doing detective stuff, you know.”

  “Do you want to fill me in now?”

  “A few hours, Montoya. That’s all I need. If what I got pans out, I’ll hand you this case on a silver platter – or at least Carl Newton will have enough to file.”

  Mike eyed her, but didn’t push. He was no fan of counting his chickens before they hatched.

  “I can’t wait,” he said. “Have you heard anything from Torrance cops on the cameras at the factory?”

  “They have a couple of frames. They think it’s three guys inside just before three a.m. No one is identifiable. They knew where they were going and how to avoid security. The cops are working on fingerprints, checking out the stuff they used for the effigy. The paint on the walls came from the factory. We need one of the brothers to rat out whoever vandalized Oi’s office.”

  “Are they still demonstrating down there?”

  Wendy shook her head, “Nope. I checked in with Jenkins. The board has called a special session and the union agreed to arbitration. Oi was a known quantity. Now the local is getting nervous. They’re backing down. The vandals were nothing but pranksters.”

  “Don’t discount the incident at Marshalls. You’re focusing on Billy because he’s the only one who fits with Rosa and that gives you tunnel vision.” Mike pointed a finger at her, less in accusation then in challenge to make her case. “Wrap up Rosa’s assault, but do it in context where Billy is concerned. Where is the gun, and why were there two weapons? How did he overcome three adults?”

  Wendy shrugged. “You’re the detective, and I’m a lowly analyst. I give you the pieces and you put them together.”

  Mike wondered if he noted a touch of bitterness in her tone, but before he could pursue it, Wendy was paying no attention to him. She was gracing a desk officer with her glorious smile.

  “Hey there, Deputy Daniels.”

  “Torrance sent this over for you to take a look.” Daniels grinned back.

  Wendy thanked him, but Mike took the package and opened it. Wendy leaned close, her perfume had weathered the day well but wisps of hair escaped her bun and curled at the nape of her neck. Mike gave her the routing slip.

  “From Butterworth. They picked these up in the search they did of Oi’s office. This stuff was in Oi’s safe.”

  “Want to go to the movies?” Mike held up the clear plastic bags. Inside were tapes and DVDs.

  “A date,” she purred. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  ***

  “Hey Sterling.” The tech guy pushed his glasses up to get a better look at her.

  “Hello, Peter. Working a double shift? I thought I saw you here last night, too.” She whipped two chairs in front of a monitor and patted the seat for Mike.

  “Cutbacks. You know how it is.” He grinned at Mike. “Detective Montoya. How are the girls? What are they up to?”

  “Both in college.” Mike handed over the bags.

  “Ouch,” Peter pulled a face. “You can’t even afford to breathe.”

  “You’re telling me,” Mike laughed and nodded to the evidence bag. “Can we take a look at those or are you headed home?”

  “Naw, I can hang out a while.” He shook out the bag and grinned. “I haven’t seen these things in a while.”

  Peter pulled out two cassettes. He reached in the bag again and came back up with five jewel cases.

  “Start with the DVDs,” Mike directed as he took up a position behind Wendy.

  “You don’t want to sit?” She looked up at him. He shook his head. She cut her losses. “Suit yourself.”

  They heard a little whoosh and Peter’s monitor swallowed one of the DVDs. He pushed a button, rolled his chair back, and put his feet up on the table.

  “Show time.”

  It took less than a second for the action to kick in. First the screen filled with a blush of color. Then the color wobbled and moved aside to reveal a bedroom. Wendy said:

  “Nanny cam.”

  “Probably.” Peter leaned forward, grabbed a mug, and settled back again.

  “Nice room,” Mike mumbled.

  “Not very interesting,” Wendy noted.

  There was a large window to the left of a queen size bed that was on a platform. There was no headboard. The window covered two thirds of the wall. Beige curtains hung at either end, but the foliage outside was so thick the curtains were unnecessary to keep prying eyes at bay. The walls were painted blue. There were no pictures. There was a chair and a small table near the bed. On the table was a clock but no phone. It was a place where someone slept but didn’t claim ownership. A second and a half into the video, they heard the sound of a toilet flushing. The screen filled with the blush color once more. This time it was easy to identify what they were looking at: a body mass.

  “Bellybutton.” Peter called out.

  “Boobs.” Wendy’s comment kicked the men’s eyes up a notch.

  “Peter,” Mike said. “Can you tell what kind of camera took this?”

  He shook his head, “The resolution isn’t that great. The angle isn’t anything to crow about. It’s small and cheap.”

  Wherever the camera was situated, the woman had paused in front of it before turning casually and walking away. If she knew the camera was there, she didn’t care.

  “Nice ass,” Peter said.

  Wendy clucked in mock dismay. “All this time I thought nothing impressed you guys down here. I figured you’d seen it all.”

  “You kidding? This is a treat compared to what I usually see. You two working porn? I thought the valley had a lock on that,” Peter asked.

  “Something a little closer to home,” Mike muttered as Wendy looked closer. “It’s not Kat Oi. This one’s too tall, too curvy.”

  “Look who’s noticing curves,” Wendy tossed off. “This chick’s young. Look at her skin.”

  The woman turned again, proving Wendy’s assessment correct. She was young and her breasts were beautiful, big and natural. Her waist was tiny and her hips in perfect proportion to the rest of her. Her arms were up so she could shimmy into a t-shirt. She hadn’t bothered with panties and it was clear she didn’t buy into the Brazilian waxing craze. She tu
rned just as the t-shirt fell onto her shoulders. They still couldn’t see a face. She pulled back the sheets on the bed, offering another great moon shot just before she climbed in.

  Still no face.

  The woman in the bed pulled up the sheets and slid down until her head was on the pillow. She was restless. She turned and then turned once again. Finally, Mike confirmed what he had guessed the minute he saw the woman’s abs.

  “She lives at the Oi house. Mr. Oi is getting more interesting by the minute.”

  “Did you ever think it could have been the wife who set this up? Maybe she wanted to make sure he wasn’t getting anything on the side in his own house. Take that one out and put in the next one.” Wendy wiggled her fingers and Pete obliged. This time a younger girl appeared.

  “I think that’s the girl I saw at the back of the Oi house. I just got a glimpse of her. Slow it down. Pull in tight on her face,” Mike ordered.

  “What are you thinking? Sixteen?” Peter posed the question but got no answer.

  “Pull it back,” Mike directed.

  “Maybe younger,” Wendy suggested.

  The girl was trying on lingerie that had been laid out on the bed. She was delighted, thrilled to be playing dress up.

  “Maybe we should get Mrs. Oi in here for a chat.” Wendy said.

  “No. Call Judge Jorgensen. Get a search warrant. Let’s not give her a chance to clean up the house.”

  “You got it.” Wendy got up and they started for the door. Mike followed her. “What do you want it to cover?”

  “The entire property. I want the garage, too, and access to all drawers, closets, everything including behind the walls. Oi had a wall safe at the office, so he might have the same at home.”

  Mike and Wendy conferred as they made their way to the door.

  “Hey! You guys want to take a look at the oldies but goodies?”

  Wendy and Mike stopped. Peter held up the cassettes. Wendy shrugged. It was Mike’s call.

  “Might as well,” he said.

  The first was a video of Greg Oi talking to a group of men.

  “That’s the factory,” Mike said. “Can you turn it up?”

  Peter made some adjustments. He couldn’t get the sound up, but they could hear Greg Oi’s voice. It was a deep, manly baritone and he spoke forcefully. It surprised Mike considering how the man was dressed when he died.

  “See if you can clean it up and get it translated, Peter,” Mike asked. “Anything will help.”

  “You got it. Any idea what language that was?” Peter asked.

  “Albanian,” Wendy answered.

  “Like near Iraq?”

  “Like near Serbia,” Wendy said.

  The tech guy shrugged and Mike assumed that hadn’t enlightened him much, but he’d figure it out. He took out that cassette and put in the next one.

  “Man, this is old,” Peter muttered. “Don’t know if we’ll get much. Look at the static. The tape’s really worn.”

  “Keep it running,” Mike directed.

  “It’s not going to do any good. Give me a while. Let me work with it. Maybe I can do some magic.” Just then the door opened. Peter looked over his shoulder. “Man, grand central tonight.”

  The deputy at the door acknowledged Peter even while he spoke to Wendy. “Sterling, here’s the lab report you were waiting for.”

  “See you later Peter.” She forgot about the tape as she walked into the hallway and turned to Mike. She gave him a playful poke in the chest with the report. “You are so going to owe me dinner, Mike.”

  Mike took it. Read it. Read it again and took a deep breath.

  “Damn.”

  ***

  Hannah walked fast down Lomita Boulevard as she headed toward the hospital, cursing herself for taking the bus and not her car. It had been a while since she’d driven her Volkswagen and since she didn’t know if it was insured anymore she decided against driving. The last thing she needed was to get pulled over and have some cop hassle her. But the bus from Hermosa to Torrance had taken forever. It would take another forever to get back home before Josie got home. There was nothing to do about it now so Hannah hurried on.

  She was almost at the edge of the hospital grounds when a car swerved toward the curb. Hannah kept walking; the car kept rolling. When it was ahead of her it stopped, and the passenger door was flung open. That’s when Hannah paused and really looked at it. She considered her options, realized she had none, and walked up to the Jeep. Josie sat behind the wheel, her eyes on the road but her command clearly directed at Hannah.

  “Get in.”

  Busted.

  CHAPTER 17

  2005

  Teuta’s husband listened as his wife told him what had happened in the building where their son played.

  “He will stay home. He will not go to school,” her husband said.

  Teuta remained silent. It was what she expected but not what she wanted. Her son should not have to live like that.

  “But surely,” Teuta said, “there is a way. He has done nothing. Reconciliation. We must ask for intervention.”

  “There is no money,” her husband snapped.

  “But you work. Certainly there is money for this,” she pleaded.

  Teuta’s husband did not argue with her though he was angry. He didn’t argue because he was afraid. Instead, he left the house. He went to have coffee. He would drink alone in the café. Who would he talk to about this shameful thing? Who would help them? What was there to be done but to close up the house? Left behind, Teuta sat at the table with her chin cradled in her upturned hand. She looked out the window of her apartment. There was nothing to see, nothing to be done.

  “Nënë?”

  Teuta looked up. Her oldest daughter was there as if by magic. Teuta had not even heard the door open and yet here she was. So beautiful. So lovely. So smart.

  Teuta sat back in her chair. A thought was coming to her. It was not a good one. It made her mother’s heart heavy. Yet, was it not the mother’s job to keep her children safe? Yes, Teuta thought as she looked at her daughter. That was a mother’s job.

  “Sit with me,” she said, and the girl did.

  Teuta began to talk and, as she talked, she saw through the girl’s eyes that she understood what she was being told. Teuta saw that her daughter was not fearful, and that was a good thing. So Teuta continued to talk until her husband returned. The family sat and ate their evening meal. Neither Teuta nor her older daughter spoke of what had passed between them.

  2013

  The silence inside the Jeep was deep and thick as Josie drove the short distance to the hospital. It exhausted her because it was bloated with bad feelings: anger, displeasure, and frustration. With all the trials that had tested her and Hannah, the saving grace was that none of the bad things had been a result of their own doing.

  All that had changed when she saw the girl hoofing it down Lomita Boulevard. That kick in the gut Josie felt was a baptism of disappointment any parent would have had a hundred times over by the time their kid was sixteen. But Josie wasn’t a parent. What should have been a teachable moment instead felt decisive and not in a good way.

  Josie pulled into the long drive that led toward the hospital garage and handed her keys to the valet. Hannah hesitated, but there was no getting around the situation. She had to follow. It wasn’t until they were waiting for the elevator that Josie looked at the girl. Hannah’s chin trembled, but there was no telling whether it was with the effort of keeping her own anger in line or because she was sorry she had disappointed the woman who had done so much for her. Josie stepped forward and pushed the button again.

  What in the heck was she supposed to do? Put her arms around Hannah? Forgive her for disobeying? Chat her up, as if nothing had happened? She rejected the last option. Something had happened and it was big and important.

  The elevator came. They stepped inside, turned in lockstep, and the door closed. Hannah didn’t even have the decency to stand behind Josie in sh
ame. When they reached the second floor, Josie pointed to a sofa in the waiting room.

  “Wait here. I don’t know how long this is going to take.”

  “I want to go with you.” When Hannah made a move to follow, Josie turned on her. Hannah fell back but only half a step.

  “Is there something you don’t understand about the word wait?” Josie growled.

  “It was the first word I learned,” Hannah shot back.

  “Good. Then it won’t be hard.”

  Cruel as that sounded, Josie was tired of the board game Hannah pulled out when she didn’t like the roll of the dice. Josie got it. Hannah’s young life had been a tortured one, but it wasn’t anymore; Hannah had been neglected and abused, but she wasn’t now. Josie was her champion, Archer and Faye were her family. Burt and half the people in Hermosa were her friends. Josie was done pretending Hannah was an outsider. She pointed to the sofa and turned her back. She wasn’t more than half a dozen steps away when she pivoted and walked back to Hannah who still stood defiantly in the middle of the waiting room.

  “Look, I’m not happy right now,” Josie said. “You blatantly disregarded the instructions I gave you this morning. I get why you did. I get why you did what you did to that girl in school. I understand that you want to do something to help Billy. You are afraid for him and feel impotent, but you’re not helping and there are consequences to your actions.”

  A couple entered the room. They looked worried and tired. Josie took Hannah’s arm and moved her away as she lowered her voice.

  “Do you want the school to expel you? Do you want the court asking whether or not I am fit to be your guardian? Do you want to get arrested for truancy? Is that what you want?”

  Josie’s voice began to shake. Never, not even when she realized her mother was gone forever, had she given in to this kind of emotion. It embarrassed her. It was frightening to care so much about Hannah. Josie put up her hand. She did not want to tangle with her now, not in the state she was in.

  “Don’t answer that. You know it was wrong to leave the house, so don’t act like you’re the aggrieved party.”