If this cost the case, so help me. I’d hunt that network down.
“We object, your Honor,” Sawyer said. “The jury pool has been tainted. How do we know more have not been paid off?” Sawyer shot a look of disgustmy way and I gave him a death glare.
I spoke up, my voice calm. “Why would we pay anyone? Other than being unethical and downright absurd, we have no reason to mess this trial up.”
“You overestimate the power of evidence and underestimate the power of a jury,” the judge said in a snide voice. He suddenly blinked at me, as if realizing who he was talking to. He turned to Dan. I tensed at the slight, but then relaxed when I remembered that he just wanted to get me worked up. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “Mr. Butler,” he said, “there is no such thing as an open–and-shut case. Surprises are always possible. Nothing like this can happen again or I’ll declare a mistrial.”
My expression sobered. It was just sinking in how close to losing this case we were before we even got started. My heart sped up, and I willed the judge to decide in our favor.
He continued. “There will be a full investigation into this matter, but my ruling is final.”
The four sharks consulted with each other. One of them, a white-haired man with a pink tie, was more animated than the rest. I leaned in, trying to hear what they said, but I couldn’t. Finally, they turned and said, “No objections.”
“Good. We will continue as planned and I will see you in my courtroom in one hour. And when I find out who is behind this, I will seek to have the culprit charged to the full extent of the law. Good day.”
Chapter 3
WHEN I STEPPED INTO the court hallway, the buzz assailed me. Everyone was fired up about something. Cops were running down the hallway, attorneys were whispering to each other and frantically passing papers, and everyone’s eyes were alarmed.
Adam Boden, a nice man who graduated at the same time I did, rushed past me. I caught his arm. “What’s going on?” I asked. Dan came up to us and leaned in to hear the answer.
Adam met my eyes, serious, and then looked at Dan, and back at me. My throat tightened. In a low voice, he said, “One of the forensic techs, Joel McFay, came into work today stoned out of his mind. And they found cocaine in his locker, and traces of it all over his car and apartment.” He stopped and his eyes widened.
“So?” I said, not ready to relax but not yet seeing the significance. “They’ll fire him and get a new one.”
“No.” Adam frowned. “There’s no telling how long he’s been going to work toasted. They’re declaring all the evidence he’s catalogued for the past year null. He’s swearing he was set up, but can’t prove it.”
Dan still stared at him, as if not understanding. But the full reality of what it meant sunk in for me.
“So the DNA he’s ran could be off,” Dan said slowly.
“No DNA test he did will hold up in a court of law,” I whispered.
He had to have done hundreds in the past year. And now, in one moment, they would all be trashed. How many criminals would go free because of this? I grasped my briefcase and shuffled through the papers until I reached the right one. My eyes tore down the page until it lit on a name.
“Joel McFay, you said?”
Adam’s face creased in compassion. He nodded.
For a moment my mask cracked, my face wrinkled in rage and I groaned. “No! No! No way!” My voice echoed through the hall. The din quieted. People stared at me in shock, then glanced away.
Adam stepped back. Dan put a hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” he said in a soothing voice. “It’s going to be okay.” But even as he said the words I could tell he didn’t believe them.
I closed my eyes and collected myself, drawing from deep within me, willing myself to hide that wild side.
Adam looked at me as if he’d never seen me before, then inched away, turned, and walked off. Dan still had his arm on my shoulder, which seemed to burn through my blouse. I stepped forward and his hand fell.
My mind raced, already going through the case in light of the recent setback. No, it was more than a setback. It was enough to get most cases thrown out of court. I mentally filtered out the DNA evidence from my presentation and concentrated on what I had left.
There was no doubt that the tech could’ve been set up. And I had no doubt Hank Williams could’ve done it. Ten years ago he’d been charged with possession, but got out with only a hefty fine and some community service. Since then I was sure he was in on the drug trade, he’d just been successful at not getting caught.
Walking fast, I weaved in and out of the busy hallway, not meeting anyone’s eyes, in my own world. I’d lost Dan, who was probably finding the nearest judge to tryto get some privilegedinformation.
My case was DNA rich, no doubt about it. But was there enough evidence without it to prove him guilty? I thought of the stun gun they’d found in his hand, the murder weapon. There was a witness, a neighbor who saw his car at the barn that night. And then there were his fingerprints all over the place. That had to be enough.
I gritted my teeth. It would be enough. I wasn’t going to fail Tracy just because some cokehead had been caught, or framed.
Besides, the judge might allow for our case’s DNA. You never know.
Chapter 4
THE JUDGE PUT HIS hands together in a prayerful position and said mournfully, “Because Joel McFay completed all of the DNA evidence for the case, none of it can be used as evidence.” He sighed. I had a feeling behind his morose attitude he was enjoying the drama. “In light of this recent setback, I will allow you to convene another day, if you so choose.”
“No, thank you, your Honor,” Sawyer said quickly. “We don’t want to reschedule.” He looked down to where Williams sat, and nodded. Williams looked at me. His eyes glistened with pleasure.
I shuffled my papers, picked up my pen, and then set it down again, thinking hard. Dan’s eyes were boring into the side of my face, but I didn’t meet them. I knew what he would say: wait. But the murder had taken place eleven months ago. The thought of Williams getting away another week set me on edge. There was enough evidence to convict him, I knew it. The witness would seal the deal for us.
Raising my eyes to the judge, I copied Sawyer word for word. “No, thank you, your Honor. We don’t want to reschedule.”
It was as if the room audibly sighed. Everyone hated delays.
Dan Butler sat on my left with the intern, Joshua, who took notes and tried not to look nervous. Dan was there for support and to make sure I didn’t screw up. I hated being babysat, but being a newbie came with its baggage. Mine was Dan. He would only sit in on high profile cases, and this being the biggest case of the year, it was understandable he was keeping a close eye on me. I knew I was a Cinderella figure. Sure, I was riding in the carriage now. But I was one mistake away from landing on my butt on the curb with pumpkin all over my dress.
Chapter 5
THE COURTROOM WAS PACKED. Not only was the media there, keenly observing every move we made, there were family members, tense and agitated at the sight of Williams, and then there were the citizens who came for the show, for the gory pictures and dramatic courtroom speeches.
I pushed everyone out of my mind. All that mattered now were my witnesses and my jury. At the beginning of each case I claimed the jury for myself. It helped me speak to them as if I knew them; as if we were longtime friends I was telling a horrific story to. It was my greatest strength, working the jury, and it’s what Dan had seen in me that had got me hired.
The first witness of the day was Hank Williams’ mother. In my interview with her she mentioned how her son had a porn addiction and I hoped to use it to show that Hank Williams was into girls, young ones. But she folded on the stand. She all but vouched for his character with tears in her eyes. She backed up his not guilty claim by saying how he never lied, how he had been a boy scout and a model student, and how he treated women with the utmost respect. I masked my anger with a smile and cut
my questions short.
Then came Kathleen Perry, an elderly lady—big boned, thinning hair, teeth that had half an inch of tar coating them, and a skull and bones tattooed on her neck. She didn’t exactly look like the type of person you’d leave your children with, but she was a neighbor to the abandoned farmhouse Williams had kept Tracy in.
I was halfway through my interrogation, and had already pulled out a few tears from her as she recounted the experience. But she wasn’t as confident as she’d been when she was alone with me. Kathleen’s eyes were shifty, and she answered with, “probably,” “maybe,” and “kind of,” more often than I’d like. It was more than just jitters, too. I could tell. This was something different. Something had spooked my witness and I didn’t know what. I plowed ahead, though, ready to hear her witness that he was there the night Tracy died. And then I would get her out of here.
Cross-examining witnesses was always an adrenaline rush. There was no other feeling like an open conflict between two people with a silent audience.
“Now let’s jump to the night of the murder,” I said. “Did you see anything out of the ordinary at the barn?” I asked. I sneaked a sideways glance at the jury. They were listening with rapt attention.
“Yes. I saw a silver car in the driveway. You know, one of those nice ones that you see on TV a lot? I’d seen it in the driveway off and on for about a month.”
I walked back and took a photo Joshua was holding out for me. He always knew what I needed before I even asked. ““May I approach the witness with State’s Exhibit No. 65, your Honor?”
The Judge nodded.
I slid the picture of the defendant’s car toward Kathleen and her eyes lit up. “Yes, that’s the one. I remember the sticker in the back window. It looks like a snake or something. I remember thinking it was a little creepy.”
“Tell the Court what you heard coming from the farmhouse, if you can.” I leaned in and handed her a tissue. She took it and dabbed her eyes.
“Around eleven o’clock I went out for a smoke. It was a calm night. No wind at all. I noticed that car there by the barn. And I heard something. Screams … they sounded muffled, and almost like an animal. I thought it might be a wounded dog or something.” She said it so low that everyone in the courtroom leaned in to hear.
I asked my next questions in a calm voice. “Why didn’t you call the police?Why didn’t you try to get some help?”
She looked up at me with red, puffy eyes, and then looked around the room apologetically. “I didn’t believe it was really what it sounded like. We have such a peaceful, little place and I never imagined it was more than a tomcat, or maybe a wild animal. I should have called, but I just didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think that someone could be this cruel and heartless to a helpless little girl, did you?”
“Objection!” Sawyer stood so fast his chair tipped over.
I turned and walked to my desk. “No further questions, your Honor.” I made my point and the courtroom felt it just as I did. After a few more expert witnesses, and slide after slide of Tracy Mulligan’s broken body, everything would wrap up like a Christmas present. I looked over at Williams. Through it all, he looked calm and collected.
What was he hiding?
Sawyer picked up his chair, red faced, and walked over to Kathleen. I tensed as if I were the one on the stand.
“Have you ever been convicted of any felonies, Mrs. Perry?” He spoke her name crisply.
Kathleen gasped.
“Objection, your Honor,” I said evenly. “Irrelevant.”
“Lends to character, Judge,” Sawyer said.
“Overruled,” the judge said. “Please continue, Mr. Sawyer.”
Kathleen looked down and wrung her hands. She wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes and barely whispered, “Yes.”
“What were you charged with?” Sawyer asked. I couldn’t see his face but I was sure it was smug.
Kathleen shifted in her chair. I willed her to look up, speak confidently, and not look so darn guilty. “I was heavy into drugs. Got caught with possession. Served my time.” She looked up and said loudly. “It ruined my life, and my son’s life. I ain’t never gonna get a hold of that stuff again. We moved here and alls I do is smoke, nothin’ more. Everyday I’m sorry I ever introduced drugs to my family.”
“So there are no drugs in your family anymore?” Sawyer asked.
Kathleen took a shaky breath. “N-n-no,” she stuttered. Her rehearsed, clearlypronounced words slipped into her normal slang. I forced myself not to look down in defeat.
I glanced at the jury. Their eyes were distrustful. I tried to meet Kathleen’s gaze, but she wouldn’t look at me. This was going downhill, fast.
“So if I was to get the police to raid your house, we’d find no drugs at all?” Sawyer said. Kathleen’s eyes widened.
“Objection,” I said. “Threatening the witness.”
So this was what it was all about. Kathleen wasn’t nervous for herself. I knew people on drugs and she didn’t have the look of it on her. But she was protecting her son. I held my breath. How much would she do to protect him?
“Sustained,” the judge said, and I let out my breath.
But Sawyer had already done what he needed to. Kathleen looked like a cornered rabbit.
“So on those nights when you saw the defendant’s car at the barn, and you heard those screams, you were in no way inebriated?”
She opened her mouth to say something, and stopped. Sawyer continued.
“You’re absolutely sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that you saw that car parked at the barn and heard those sounds at eleven o’clock on May 14th?”
Kathleen swallowed. I could see what she was thinking. She was wondering if she said yes, a raid would be ordered on her house. So wrapped up in the moment, I nodded for her, as if it would help.
“Would you swear—” Sawyer pointed at Williams,“—on his life that you are absolutely sure you saw what you described?”
If anyone looked unsure at the moment, it was Kathleen. I internally groaned. The jury looked gone already, as if they didn’t need to hear anymore.
Giving up, she shook her head. No. She wasn’t sure.
Sometimes I wished I were a defense attorney … all they had to do was just show reasonable doubt. So much for my eyewitness.
Chapter 6
I SIPPED ON A glass of ice water as the courtroom started to clear out for the day. I listened to the murmurs and whispers of the audience as they filed out to go print or publish the events of the day. They spoke of the defendant in strident terms. “Monster … heartless creep.” It was all good as far as I was concerned. But they also had their doubts. And more than a shadow of them. “With no DNA, and an unclear witness statement, it’ll come down to the fingerprints, the cops finding him at the scene of the crime, and defendant’s testimony.”
Dan stood and stuffed papers into his leather briefcase. His tall frame looked good in a suit, but he was currently wearing a large frown that ruined his features. “That was a debacle,” he said, glaring at me. “I thought you said we had a strong witness.”
Taking another sip of water, I hesitated. “You know as well as I that you never know how good a witness is until after they’ve testified.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but underneath I was a jumble of fear and anger over this case.
“We still have a strong case,” I said, hoping he’d keep it in my hands. “We have the police testimony of finding him on the scene with the murder weapon … it doesn’t get much more clear than that.”
Dan pursed his lips. “It was a lot clearer eight hours ago.”
Joshua, the intern, was caught in between the fireworks between Dan and me. He looked like he wanted to disappear, which would be impossible considering his 300 lb. Samoan build. He had a shaved head, trendy black-framed glasses, and was fresh out of law school. He was born and raised in Hawaii, and despite what people say about the laid-back nature of the Samoans, he was as driven as they co
me. He’d logged in just as much time on this case as I had, worked tirelessly, and he had a vision and understanding about things that I respected. He watched the people file out of the room, but he was listening intently as I argued for our case.
I looked down at my case notes. It represented months of research and testimonies and long hours at the office. I not only knew everything I could about the murder, I also learned everything I could about Hank Williams and Tracy Mulligan.
“No one can handle this better than me,” I said quietly, with conviction.
Dan took in my statement. I stared back at him. After a moment, I saw acceptance wash across his face.
“What are you going to do about this?” he asked.
That was the thing I liked about Dan—he was direct. And I knew exactly what I was going to do.
“I’m going to go to the scene of the crime to wrap my head around what happened that night.” I took a breath. “And then I’m going to get an appointment with Williams’ daughter, Hannah, and see if I can’t get her to testify. I’m sure she knows more than what she’s let on. Then I’m going to follow up on a twelve-yearold abuse claim one of his employees filed on him. I couldn’t find her, and I didn’t pursue it since we had enough on Williams.”
Dan frowned. “Things have changed.”
“I know,” I said. “We need more on him.”
He nodded. His forehead was wrinkled, he looked stressed. “All right, then. Get on it.” He picked up his briefcase and turned to leave. “Meet you back at the office.” Joshua followed him.
I stayed seated. It had been a long day. And it would turn out to be an even longer night. I needed a moment.
Dan turned. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. His dark eyes glanced me over. “I’ll order dinner for us to share. My treat. And then you can sleep over at my place.”
BREAKING STEELE (A Sarah Steele Thriller) Page 2
