Stone handed her a photograph of Adrienne Murray. It was part of his official collection of the murdered woman.
“Try the last six months of last year,” he ordered. If Adrienne was having an affair with Crawford, it made sense to use her name over his, if they were going to use a real name at all.
Barbara came back empty-handed again. “Sorry.” She grabbed the photograph and studied it once more. “Pretty lady,” she offered admiringly.
“Yeah,” Stone said solemnly. “She was. Once upon a time.”
He drove home thinking that he might have been on a wild and foolish goose chase. There was nothing but the word of a rapist-murderer that Adrienne Murray and Judge Crawford were having an affair. It hadn’t made sense then and it didn’t now.
As far as Stone was concerned, Manuel Gonzalez had fabricated this affair. So what else was he making up along the way?
Could the man have manipulated the polygraph to give the wrong results?
Stone was unnerved at the thought that Gonzalez and Santiago were both guilty as charged. And the possibility that one of them could get away with it for the wrong reasons.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
The courtroom was filled to capacity as jurors, media, and other spectators sensed that something significant was about to happen.
Beverly sat beside Gail, both trying hard not to tip their hand. On the defense side, Ortega conferred with Santiago, seemingly advising him of the likely outcome of today’s proceedings. Judge Grant Nunez sat on the bench, having just slammed down his gavel, and pronounced the court in session.
A sharp intake of breath caused Beverly to tremble inadvertently. Every trial had its defining moment. She knew this one would be defined by its abrupt and surprising outcome. She was as prepared as she could be to deal with any fallout that might result from her decision.
On the plus side, she had the full backing of Dean Sullivan. He’d told her this morning, “It’s your call, Beverly. I’ll stand by you one hundred percent. Just be sure you don’t make a mistake and let the wrong man off the hook. Judge Crawford’s real killer has to be held accountable, if only for public consumption—”
Now I’ll have to make that call. And live with the consequences either way. I can only hope that history will prove that I made the right move.
“Are you prepared to call your next witness?” Grant asked her routinely.
Rising to her feet, heart pounding, Beverly swallowed, and said in a heavy voice, “Your Honor, recently new evidence has come to light that gives the State reason to strongly believe that another man is in fact responsible for the crimes for which Mr. Santiago has been accused.”
“Is that so?” asked Grant, as if he had been caught completely off guard. In truth, he knew exactly what the evidence was and where this was headed. He didn’t try and influence Beverly one way or the other, trusting her judgment based on the facts of the case. “I’m listening, Ms. Mendoza.”
Beverly forced herself to look in the direction of Rafael Santiago. His eyes were already glued on hers spitefully, as was the gloating gaze of his attorney. Facing the front of the court again, she said unevenly, “Due to this convincing evidence, including a confession to the crimes by another man already in custody for committing three murders and attempted kidnapping, among other charges, the People move that all charges against the defendant be dismissed.”
The courtroom reacted to this stunning development. Jurors glanced at each other in disbelief. A low hum spread across the room like a slow fog. The judge tried to maintain order, but was mostly ignored.
Grant met Beverly’s eyes in a moment of understanding and loving compassion, before he turned to the defendant. After a long pause in which the courtroom became totally silent, he dropped the charges unapologetically, finishing with a sober, “Mr. Santiago, you’re free to leave—”
Rafael Santiago nodded respectfully before he and Conrad Ortega embraced in a bear hug of jubilation and victory.
Beverly watched them motionlessly. She felt numb and unsatisfied. Yet she knew she had done the right thing under the circumstances.
Even if doubts lingered.
Santiago stopped his celebrating just long enough to favor Beverly with a callous look. She tried to ignore it, but realized that she could feel its wicked intensity right down to her spine.
It was as if he was telling her, You’ve been conned, lady. Better keep your doors locked. You never know who just might pay you a little visit.
* * *
“Grant invited us to his house for dinner, honey,” Beverly told Jaime that night.
“Sounds okay,” he said. “Hope he’s a good cook.”
“Oh, I think he does all right in the kitchen. And if that fails, there’s always take out.”
Jaime chuckled. “Yeah, I guess.”
They were playing Monopoly on the living room floor. Beverly was relieved that the trial was over and she could move on for better or worse. She honestly had no idea what dropping the charges against Santiago midway through a trial that had once seemed like a slam-dunk might do to her career aspirations. Perhaps it would make no difference once the press coverage died down. After all, how many prosecutors had to deal with identical twin killers with the same DNA? She hoped to never again be faced with such circumstances.
“Your turn, Mom,” Jaime whined.
Beverly flipped the dice and moved four spaces to Park Place, which Jaime owned.
He grinned victoriously. “Pay up!” he demanded.
She complied. “Thought we’d go to see your grandfather this weekend. He gets really lonely about now. It’s the time of year that Mama died.”
Beverly wasn’t sure just how much longer her father would be cognizant enough to feel loneliness. Or if it was already a thing of the past. But she wanted to hang on to what was less of him for as long as possible.
“Cool,” Jaime said without protest, making Beverly happy. “Maybe they’ll even let us take him out to dinner. Bet he hasn’t had anything good to eat since Thanksgiving Day!”
“You’re probably right about that,” she conceded soberly. “But when you get to be Papa’s age, you’re not so particular anymore.”
“I’ll always be particular,” her son said, frowning.
“I have a feeling you will,” Beverly agreed with a smile.
“What’s going to happen to that man who was set free?” Jaime lifted one brow whimsically.
“I don’t know,” Beverly told him truthfully, wishing she could shield him from her work. She knew it was all but impossible, given the news coverage of the trial that had ended so abruptly. “I guess he’ll just get on with his life.”
Not much of a life at that. She imagined trouble would likely follow Rafael Santiago wherever he went.
“What about the guy who confessed to killing the judge?” Jaime played with the dice while gazing at her.
“He’ll be formally charged. And when it’s over, he’ll likely spend the rest of his life in prison.” That was a comforting though, all things considered, even if Santiago’s release made her more than a little nervous for some reason. Hadn’t he already paid his dues? Didn’t he deserve a second chance to get his affairs in order and to be left alone?
Yes, I believe he does, as long as Santiago is really innocent.
Beverly decided that it did no good to second guess at this point. What was done was done and there was no turning back.
“You don’t think he’ll come after us now that he’s out, do you?” Jaime asked, apprehension clouding his eyes.
“Of course not,” Beverly insisted with a steady voice. “Now that he’s free, the man wouldn’t want to risk doing anything that might put him back where he was.”
Would he?
The very notion left her feeling a trifle queasy.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Rafael Santiago breathed in the taste of freedom, relishing its feel like a second skin. He could barely believe this moment, never imagining it happening w
hile he was still on his feet and not in a pine box. But then a miracle of sorts happened. The miracle of kinship, blood is thicker than water and all that stupid crap.
Now that he was out, Rafael planned to make good use of his time. And that included settling old scores.
Along with some new ones.
He knocked on the door of the apartment. A moment later it opened and Rafael regarded the woman who had brought him into this world. She looked as though she had aged ten years in the three months since he’d last seen her face to face.
“Rafael...” she cried, and hugged his hard body.
He pushed her away, glaring. “Why didn’t you tell me about him, Mama?”
Isabel ran a hand across her wrinkled mouth pensively. “I didn’t know how. It all happened so long ago...”
“I deserved to know there was another me—and not a damned cousin!”
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I did what I thought was right at the time. Afterwards, there seemed no point in causing you both, and me, pain...”
Rafael held his anger in check. After all, he’d gotten the better of the deal at the end of the day. So why complain openly that she’d screwed up his life? And his identical twin brother’s.
He gathered her in his powerful arms, which Rafael had maintained with a vigorous exercise routine while in jail.
“It’s cool, Mama,” he lied to her.
“Yeah?” There was doubt in her voice.
“Yeah, Mama. I just want to chill for a while and get on with my life.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Rafael. I’ve lost Manuel again. Didn’t want to lose you, too.”
“You won’t.” He noted the cat on the floor observing it all with those eerie damned yellow eyes. “Think I’ll go take a bath, get some of the stink from being behind bars off me.”
Rafael grabbed a beer from the refrigerator en route to the bathroom, his thoughts buzzing.
He left the door open a crack and took his bath while drinking the beer and waiting for the dumb cat to come in.
It did and moseyed over to the tub, eyeing him warily as though Rafael were his worst enemy.
Maybe the cat wasn’t so dumb after all.
“Come to Papa,” Rafael whispered. “Time for you to get wet...”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Rafael came out of the bathroom, dressed in a fresh shirt and jeans. His black hair was gleaming wet and combed backwards. Isabel thought that he looked nice, like when he was a boy.
She wondered if he could ever change and become good. Or had the bad seed implanted in her sons by their father doomed them both to a life filled with hate and deviancy?
It was only when Isabel saw the scratch on one side of Rafael’s face that she became alarmed. In fact, there were three long scratches, close together, and they were bleeding a little bit.
“What happened?” she uttered.
Rafael shrugged. “Cut myself shaving, that’s all.”
Isabel gazed at him with concern. “I have a first aid kit.”
“Don’t need it,” he stated tersely. “It ain’t that bad.”
Isabel wanted to object, but thought better. She could see that he was about to leave. She hoped it wasn’t for good.
“Where are you going?” she asked hesitantly.
“Out,” Rafael responded.
“When are you coming back?”
“Whenever. Don’t wait up.”
Isabel dared touch his arm, having a sinking feeling. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You’re not gonna get yourself in more trouble are you, Rafael?”
Her son peered at her with unblinking eyes. “What do you think? It ain’t me who causes trouble. It’s the ones who get in my business.” His voice softened. “Don’t worry about me. I just need to take care of a few things and then we can talk...”
Impulsively Isabel hugged Rafael and kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, I’d like to talk.”
He met her gaze with a halfhearted grin and left.
Isabel was trembling even before she went to find her cat, Loda, fearful that it could be the last time she ever saw her son.
She found it odd that Loda wasn’t running around as she loved to do. Maybe the cat had been intimidated by Rafael’s presence and was hiding. Isabel looked everywhere, but still no sign of Loda. The last place she tried was the bathroom. The door was shut and she might have thought it was still being occupied had Rafael not just left.
Isabel walked up to the tub. It was filled with dirty, soapy water. She was just about to pull the stopper out when she noticed something in the water.
Isabel jumped back and screamed in horror. Loda was in the soapy water, a victim of drowning.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Stone was just getting out of the shower when greeted by his wife with a fluffy blue towel.
“Better dry off in a hurry,” Joyce said. “You have a phone call from Isabel Santiago. Isn’t she the mother of—”
“Yeah—of both of them,” Stone said succinctly.
“I thought so. Well, I told her I’d have you call back, but she insisted on talking to you now. So—” Joyce handed him the towel, a worried look on her face. “What does she want with you?”
Stone considered the question while drying. He had given Isabel Santiago his work and cell phone numbers, promising to help should Rafael prove to be more than she could handle. Now Stone wondered about the wisdom of sticking his nose where it probably shouldn’t have been. This case was more or less over and it was time for him to move on. Or be left behind.
His brows touched in gazing at Joyce. “Guess we’ll find out in a moment—”
Stone took the call in their bedroom. “Mrs. Santiago,” he spoke politely.
“You said I was free to call you. Did you mean it?” Her voice shook.
“I meant it,” he said. “How can I help you?”
“It’s Rafael...”
“What about him?”
“I just wanted to keep my son from going back to prison. That’s why I told the police what I did.”
Stone recalled hearing that Isabel was Santiago’s alibi the night Sheldon and Maxine Crawford were victimized. “Are you saying you were lying to cover for your son?” Not that it made a hell of a lot of difference at this point. The deal had already been made to send her other son to prison for the rest of his life while freeing Santiago.
Without making a liar out of herself, Isabel deflected the question and said instead, “Rafael killed my cat...”
Stone reacted in disbelief. “Are you sure?”
Again Isabel moved on to something else on her mind. “I saw the look in his eyes... I don’t want nobody else to get hurt.”
“Like who?”
“Whoever he’s carrying a grudge against—”
* * *
Stone watched as Manuel Gonzalez entered the interrogation room in handcuffs and shackles, along with a jail guard who looked like he could have been a starter on the Oakland Raiders front line.
Why the hell am I here on a wild goose chase instead of home with my wife and kids? Probably because the department never would have authorized it and Stone’s instincts told him this case wasn’t over, even if everyone wanted it to be.
“You can remove the shackles,” Stone told the guard. “Manuel isn’t much to fear when he doesn’t have a knife or gun to use.”
“Suit yourself, man,” the guard muttered and detached the shackles before leaving them alone.
Manuel flopped onto a chair. “Why am I here, man?” he asked curiously.
Stone sat across from him, sharpening his gaze. “Had a question for you.”
“Yeah what?”
“How’d you do it?”
“Do what?” Manuel chewed on his lower lip.
“Fool the hell out of the polygraph machine.”
Manuel laughed. “What’s makes you so sure of that?”
I’m not sure, but I want you to think I am. “For one, your story about the alle
ged affair between Adrienne Murray and Judge Sheldon Crawford doesn’t check out.”
Manuel rolled fingers through his hair. “Yeah. So sue me. Just don’t expect to collect. They don’t pay much in prison.”
Stone pinned his gaze on the prisoner. “Must pinch a little knowing that your twin brother is a free man—free to do the things you used to do.”
Manuel shrugged. “That’s the way it goes. He served his time.”
“So what, now it’s your turn to do a stretch in the pen—to make amends for the time he spent there? You think that’s what identical twins are supposed to do, cover for each other?
“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, man.”
“Don’t I?” Stone sensed otherwise. “Look, Manuel, your deal is already in place and nothing can change it. The D.A.’s office is not about to make more of a laughing stock out of itself than it already has by retrying Rafael.”
“Yeah, so what you want from me?” Manuel set his jaw.
“The truth, just for my own peace of mind,” Stone said.
“And why would I care about your peace of mind, man? What the hell’s in it for me?”
Not much, asshole. But maybe just a little compassion for the one person on this planet who may still give a damn about you.
“You’re right, Manuel. I wouldn’t expect you to lose any sleep on account of my peace of mind.” Stone paused and waited till their eyes connected. “I was hoping that you might make it easier for your mother. Yeah, I know all about how she dumped you off on another woman, causing you to have one problem after another. I also know she regrets it and never stopped loving you.”
Manuel licked his lips. “I don’t wanna here this.”
“I know you don’t,” Stone said. “I’m not asking you to forgive her. What I am saying is that if you have a decent bone in that body of yours somewhere, you’ll give her a break. Right now she’s scared to death that Rafael is out to do more harm, especially after he drowned her cat in the bathtub.”
“What!” Manuel glared at him. “Rafael wouldn’t do that.”
State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller Page 32
