by Sydney Bauer
‘Basically I am using Sienna Walker's DNA in a process of elimination. By comparing the DNA profiles of the mom to her daughter I can determine which half of Eliza Walker's DNA came from her mother. The other half then obviously comes from Eliza's biological father – so if I compare Hunt's profile to the remaining DNA in Eliza's …’
‘You either come up with a match or not.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And this is what – ninety per cent accurate?’ asked Lisa.
‘Ninety-nine point nine five actually.’
Lisa nodded. ‘You don't get much better than that. So how much longer?’
‘I'll be done by the end of the day.’
‘You plan on sleeping any time soon?’
‘No. But another coffee in an hour or two might help,’ he smiled.
Lisa smiled back. ‘Come find me,’ she said. ‘The caffeine is my shout.’
‘But you bought the Starbucks.’
‘Nah, the guy at the Cambridge Street Starbucks has a crush on me.’
‘Of course he does,’ smiled Lucas. ‘Now I feel like your pimp.’
‘It's just a free coffee, Cole,’ she winked, before shoving that stray hair behind her ear once again and bounding out the door.
11.27 am
Dick Davenport took advantage of the morning recess to make a call. All was going to plan. He was selling out Sienna with just the right degree of remorse. Somewhere deep down he hated himself for doing it – even more so given the pleasure his lies were obviously bringing that pig of a DA. But it was necessary if he was to get what he wanted – or more to the point, make amends for all the mistakes he had made.
‘It's me,’ he said when the phone picked up.
‘I heard the newsflashes. It's going well.’
‘Yes.’
‘How much longer?’
‘Another half an hour or so with the District Attorney, and then whatever Cavanaugh can manage on cross.’ He took a breath. ‘What about your end?’
‘Our timetable has moved up. The clients want to leave the city tonight.’
Davenport inhaled. This was not what he'd expected. ‘That's too soon. There is no way I can secure the package by then.’
‘I know, which is why you get a reprieve. I am going to take care of it.’
Davenport swallowed. ‘Personally?’
‘Personally.’
‘When?’
‘This afternoon.’
Davenport hesitated. ‘How?’
‘Does it make any difference?’
‘I suppose not,’ replied Davenport before, ‘This is new for us,’ he ventured. ‘Normally we have total control, but this …? You need to be careful.’
‘Listen to you. Somewhere along the line you lost your balls, Dick.’
But Davenport knew that in reality he had found them, the moment he'd made the decision to move.
‘The clients want you to do the exchange,’ said his friend then, dishing up another ‘inconvenience’. ‘They know you, Dick, they trust you – hell, they think the sun shines out of your Beacon Hill ass.’
This was true, thought Davenport, a new surge of what he knew was guilt pushing at the sides of his stomach.
‘Don't worry,’ his friend continued, perhaps sensing the ‘castrated’ Davenport was having another crisis of confidence. ‘It's all been arranged. I've booked a room at The Eliot. The clients will meet you in the lobby at three. All you have to do is go to the room, retrieve the package and hand it to them. They have deposited half the fee in our private account and will transfer the remainder as soon as the package is in their possession.’
Davenport swallowed. ‘What if the package is …?’
‘It won't be,’ replied his friend, and Davenport understood perfectly.
‘I'd better go,’ he said.
‘I'll text you with the room number and leave a key in your name at reception.’
‘All right.’
His friend started to laugh. ‘Don't sound so worried, my friend. This is a big day for us.’
Davenport did not doubt it. ‘I'll talk to you soon,’ he said, before ending the call and checking the time on his Rolex.
Five minutes, he told himself, before deciding he had no time to hesitate. And then he pressed in the number he had committed to memory, and put the wheels in motion, so that he could finally get the hell out.
11.58 am
‘Dr Davenport,’ Katz continued.
David knew the DA was close to wrapping up his case, and despite David's fresh sense of hope, he also knew that the Kat had presented an almost flawless prosecution.
‘I appreciate your testimony has been difficult, as I understand you were friends with the victim's father and indeed the defendant herself, but given all you have told us this morning – about Jim Walker's enthusiasm to become a father, about Sienna Walker's controlled anger at being steered toward motherhood – was there a moment after Jim Walker's death that you were worried about the safety of little Eliza?’
It was a good question. Katz was consolidating the previous three hours of Davenport's detailed testimony. The DA had cleverly painted a picture and was now asking the witness to step back and view it as a whole.
‘There was a moment,’ Davenport replied. ‘Actually, it was before Eliza's birth, on the morning Sienna told me she had made the decision to seek the services of a midwife.’
‘Yes, you must have thought it strange – even been offended – at your patient's decision to abandon your care at this all-important time.’
‘Oh, it was never about my ego, Mr Katz, I understand many women prefer their child to be delivered by a female, but it was something Sienna said to me, something regarding her resentment at her husband – for ever having wanted a child.’
The DA nodded. ‘Go on, Doctor. Tell us, what did Mrs Walker say?’
‘She said that in many ways the timing of her husband's death was a blessing. And while I thought this strange, I assumed she meant that Jim had died before he got to see his daughter, that if he had set eyes on her, the loss of never being able to see her again would have made things all the worse.’
Sienna took a breath beside David.
‘But this is not what she meant?’ a now confused-looking Katz continued.
‘No,’ replied Davenport. ‘She said that … that if he was still alive, Jim would have preferred her to be a stay-at-home mom and that she … well, that was not something she felt she was capable of.’
‘And did you reassure her, Doctor, that many new mothers fear the overwhelming responsibilities of motherhood? That looking after someone you love so much can seem like an incredibly daunting task?’
‘Of course, but then she looked at me as if I was … stupid.’ Davenport swallowed. ‘She said that that was not what she meant by “capable”, she said that she wasn't made for motherhood and that … that Jim, he was the one who …’ Davenport shook his head.
‘Doctor, I know this is hard,’ the Kat interjected, no doubt just as he had rehearsed, ‘but you need to tell us word for word what the defendant said to you.’
Davenport took a breath. ‘She said the child belonged with her father – always had done and always would.’
‘And you replied?’
‘That I was sorry, that Jim would have made a great father, but that I was afraid that that was impossible.’
‘And she replied?’
‘That nothing was impossible.’
‘That nothing was impossible?’ repeated Katz.
Davenport nodded. ‘That nothing was impossible and that anything could be arranged.’
‘And in the end she did arrange it, didn't she, Doctor?’ asked Katz.
‘Yes, I suppose she did.’
12.29 pm
‘There,’ said Susan Leigh. ‘In front of the red Ford pick-up.’
Joe saw it – the pale blue Buick with the dented back fender.
‘What's the play, Chief?’ asked Frank McKay, leaning in between the
two front seats.
‘We tail him. He has to run out of gas sooner or later.’
‘We could attempt to pull him over,’ suggested Susan.
‘Too risky,’ replied Joe.
They fell silent as they kept an easy distance between themselves and the light blue sedan, following De Lorenzo for another eight miles before Joe saw the Buick's right indicator light begin to flash.
‘He's turning off,’ he said.
‘There's a Caltex station up ahead,’ said Susan. She pulled out her revolver and stuck it in her waistband. ‘Just in case,’ she said.
Joe nodded. ‘Hold tight,’ he said as he changed lanes to follow the Buick, which did just as they expected, pulling off into the gas station fifty or so yards up to their right.
12.36 pm
‘Are you okay?’ David placed Sienna in a seat at the small conference room table. He got down on his knees, put his hand on her shoulders and attempted to look into her eyes.
‘Sienna?’ he said. Her face was so pale it looked translucent.
‘She needs some cold water, lad,’ suggested Nora, who had been waiting for them in the conference room with two new companions who were now sitting quietly in the far corner. ‘I'll find a vending machine,’ she said, grabbing her handbag before moving toward the door and nodding at Arthur, who was standing sentry just outside.
Sara moved toward the far wall to open a window. ‘Maybe some fresh air will help,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ said Sienna. ‘I'm all right.’
‘Well I'm not,’ said a now frustrated Sara, moving back toward them. ‘Davenport, he … the man took an oath to save lives, not to exploit, rob, ruin and take them.’
Sienna blinked away a tear before focusing on Sara once again. ‘Dick's lies they … they made me feel so angry, so helpless. They believe him, Sara, and why wouldn't they? He was so calm, so composed, so convincing.’
‘No he's not.’ The words came from the back of the room, from one of the two young girls in the corner.
Sienna turned toward them.
‘Dr Davenport,’ the girl continued, ‘he may look like he's all calm and in control, but I can tell he is starting to lose it. He pretends to be okay in front of other people but he's doing weird things like staring into the distance and talking to ducks.’ She raised her eyebrows to punctuate her point.
Sienna got up from her chair and moved slowly toward her. ‘You're Madonna,’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ said Madonna, also standing up. ‘And you're Mrs Walker. I used to think that you were, you know … not so nice. But obviously you are so … sorry.’ Madonna wiped her hand on her leopard print skirt before nervously extending it toward Sienna.
But Sienna held out her arms instead. ‘I don't know how to thank you,’ she said, pulling Madonna close.
A stiff Madonna finally relaxed into Sienna's arms, returning the hug.
‘This is my friend Carina,’ she said when Sienna pulled back.
The even more nervous girl took her hand. ‘Hello,’ she said, before adding, as if in apology, ‘I don't normally dress like this.’ Carina was wearing an oversized grey sweatsuit, her bottle-blonde hair pulled into a messy low ponytail.
Then Nora returned to the room. ‘The jury are about to return,’ she said, handing Sienna the water.
David nodded before turning to his client. ‘We haven't had time to talk – about Madonna and Carina, I mean.’
‘David, we have to go,’ said Arthur from the doorway.
‘It's okay,’ said Sienna. ‘I trust you, remember?’
David nodded, first at his client and then at the two girls in the corner. ‘You girls ready?’
‘Check,’ said Madonna.
David smiled. ‘Then let's do this.’
Five minutes earlier, 12.31 pm
Roger Katz was in shock. Literally. He could not speak. He just stood there with his mouth wide open. He had no idea how to react. The woman before him had just knocked him off his feet. He had to pinch himself to confirm he was hearing what he was hearing, and the pinch hurt, which meant he was – hearing what he was hearing, that is – which also meant the wave of ecstasy starting to overcome him now was justified. He was in serious fucking bliss!
‘Are you sure?’ he asked her, his eyes now flicking to the clock on the court administrator's wall. He knew time was short and the woman had only just arrived. Her hair was a mess from the eight hours in a coach but that could be fixed. Besides, at this point it wouldn't matter if she was wearing fishnets and suspenders; it was what she had to say that counted.
‘Of course I'm sure, Mr Katz,’ said the woman, whose real name was Malloy. ‘How could I be wrong about such a thing?’
That was the beauty of it – she couldn't.
‘Why didn't you tell me over the phone?’
‘Because I was scared. People have been trying to track me down and … I left my home, my job and … The woman is obviously a killer and my story – it sort of changes things for her, don't you think?’ Her Irish accent was endearing, the ‘r's’ rolling off her tongue like a whippoorwill.
‘It sure as hell does.’ Katz was smiling so hard his face hurt.
Malloy looked at him blankly and Katz realised he probably needed to turn the glee factor down a little. ‘Don't worry. You're safe here with me, and I'll make sure you are protected. I am afraid we won't have time to prepare your testimony but I want you to follow my lead, okay? You won't have to wait long. Mrs Walker's attorney will attempt to cross my previous witness but he has nowhere to go so …’ He caught himself smiling again. ‘Can I get you something while you're waiting?’
‘A tea would be nice,’ she said.
‘By something I meant water,’ he said, pointing at a jug in the corner. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘Sit tight. And don't leave this room until you are called, do you understand?’
She nodded.
‘Do you have a hairbrush?’
‘In my bag.’ She tugged at her hair self-consciously.
‘Okay, and some make-up wouldn't hurt – not too much though, just some colour on your cheeks.’
The woman nodded as the administrator knocked on the door.
‘They're going back in, Mr Katz,’ he said from the other side, not enough balls to walk in.
‘I have to go,’ said Katz, checking his reflection in the window. ‘Sit tight,’ he said.
12.58 pm
The beauty of working with people you know and trust is that you don't need to tell them what to do. No instructions, no questions, no discussion, just action, which is exactly how Joe Mannix liked it.
Susan Leigh moved first. She got out of the car and walked toward the back of the gas station. She headed toward the rest rooms which were advantageously located on the far right.
Frank went inside. He pretended to peruse the drink refrigerators at the side of the store. This was just in case De Lorenzo went for a magazine or a soda, or decided to pay cash for the gas.
Joe got out of the car, which he'd parked behind De Lorenzo's, and started to open the gas tank. He saw De Lorenzo take out his wallet to count exactly how much he could spare. And then he shook his head before using his credit card again, opting for another ten flat.
Joe waited. The time went quickly given ten dollars doesn't buy you shit. Joe wasn't sure if he'd move inside to get a soda or get back in his car. But then he stored the bowser and moved around his car, heading for the store to part with whatever he had left in change.
‘Mr De Lorenzo,’ said Joe, knowing it was safe. De Lorenzo was now standing in the middle of an invisible triangle formed by Leigh and McKay and Joe.
He jerked around, his face a mixture of fear and indecision given he was now a good twenty feet from his car and his only option was to run.
‘Not worth it, Marco,’ said Joe, advancing on him then, holding his BPD badge up front. The man wasn't carrying, of this Joe was sure. His belly was exposed under an oversized shirt which flapped in the cool southerly
breeze. ‘We got you covered,’ he said then, gesturing toward Frank and Susan who were now walking toward them.
‘I didn't do shit,’ said De Lorenzo.
‘I know, Marco,’ said Joe. ‘We're not here to bust your balls.’
‘That's what the other guy said,’ replied De Lorenzo.
Joe shot a look at Frank. ‘What other guy?’
‘The one in the suit, the one that said I couldn't talk to anyone about it, at least not until the timing was right.’
Joe could not believe what he was hearing. All this time he thought De Lorenzo had been a long shot, but now he knew he wasn't such a long shot after all.
‘Frank?’ said Joe. ‘You got your BlackBerry handy?’
Frank pulled out his BlackBerry and logged on to the internet, knowing exactly what his boss was asking. ‘This the guy?’ said Frank, shoving the screen toward De Lorenzo. He'd used Google images, Daniel Hunt's face materialising in seconds.
De Lorenzo squinted at the screen, the recognition almost instantaneous. ‘That's him,’ he said.
Frank looked across at Joe and nodded.
‘He knows what happened?’ asked Joe.
‘Yes,’ said De Lorenzo.
‘You're a lucky man, Marco. Something tells me the timing would never have been right,’ said Joe, referring to Hunt's instructions. ‘As far as we're concerned, however, it is definitely time to share.’
Marco De Lorenzo nodded. ‘I never should have tried to take advantage of my brother.’
‘That's okay, Marco,’ said Joe, steering De Lorenzo toward their sedan. ‘Think of this as your chance to make amends.’
1.01 pm
‘Good afternoon, Dr Davenport. Let me repeat the District Attorney's words when I say we are grateful for your giving up your time to be here today.’
David's approach had caught Davenport by surprise. He had expected antagonism but had gotten appreciation in its stead.
‘That's not a problem, Mr Cavanaugh,’ said Davenport, now shifting slightly in his seat.
‘No, seriously,’ David continued. ‘I can only imagine how busy you must be. Let's face it, you deal in the most precious commodity known to man – like you said, you make dreams come true, Dr Davenport, you create families, you give life.’
