Chapter 55
BACK AT THEIR HOTEL-ROOM headquarters, Jones and Loving were waiting for Ben and Christina. To Ben’s surprise, his friend, former brother-in-law, and recent prosecution witness Mike Morelli was there as well.
As Ben came through the door, Mike spread open his hands and smiled. “No hard feelings?”
Ben returned the smile. “None. Personally, I think you did more good for our side than you did for the prosecution.”
“So does Bullock. And boy, is he pissed. He’s been stomping all over the station, griping to Chief Blackwell, threatening to yank my badge. All the usual DA histrionics.”
Ben threw down his briefcase and grabbed a chair. “When did you find out you were going to testify?”
“Just found out for sure this morning. Called me in on my day off, no less. Which is a good sign for you.”
“Oh, yeah? How so?”
Mike’s head cocked to one side. “Ben, Bullock knows you and I are friends. He wouldn’t have called me in a million years unless he was worried.”
Ben shook his head grimly. “Maybe he had some doubts yesterday, but not today. He hurt us today.”
Jones chimed in with his color commentary. “I thought you did a great job of taking apart those high-priced so-called experts, Boss.”
“Ditto,” Christina offered.
Ben shrugged. “But when all is said and done, juries don’t make up their minds based on what experts say. They might use the testimony of experts to reinforce their impressions, but their minds are made up by the fact witnesses. Hearing what people have seen and heard. And what that last witness had seen and heard was devastating. Can you imagine? The mayor of the city swinging a baseball bat through the air and threatening to smash his wife’s head? How is the jury ever going to get that picture out of their heads long enough to even consider another suspect?”
“Don’t look to me for help,” Mike said. “I told you this was a loser when you took it. Is there any way you can dispute Dr. Fisher’s testimony?”
Ben shook his head. “No one was there except Caroline and the children. And they’re all dead.”
“Except,” Loving added, “for Wallace Barrett.”
Ben nodded. “He’s going to take the stand. I know there are risks. Bullock will get a chance to cross. But Barrett’s used to handling himself in public, facing tough questioning.”
“Ben,” Mike said, “I’m not revealing any secrets by telling you that this is exactly what Bullock is hoping for. A chance to take Barrett apart on national television.”
“I know. But no one else can dispute that baseball bat testimony, not to mention the alleged incidents of abuse Cynthia Taylor testified about. He’s the only one who can do it.” Ben kept his own private doubts to himself. Yes, Barrett was the only one who could do it, but given his behavior in the courtroom—would he do it? “The jury won’t believe he isn’t an irrational maniac until they hear it from his mouth.”
“And maybe not then,” Mike added.
Ben nodded. “Christina and I are going to his cell tonight to prep him. And speaking of which, Loving—”
Loving’s head snapped up. “Yes, Skipper?”
“Any luck tracking down the man you saw at O’Brien Park?”
“Sorry, Skipper. This is the most frustratin’ investigation I’ve handled in my entire life. I come smack up against a stone wall every step I take. I just can’t find the creep.”
“Well, that settles it, then. We’re putting you on the stand.”
Loving looked horrified. “Me? On the—”
“You got it. I don’t like it much either. The jury will know you work for me and will weigh your testimony with that in mind. But we don’t have any other choice. You’re the only link we have between Whitman and the hit man.”
Loving swallowed. “When do you think I’ll go on?”
Ben shrugged. “It’s impossible to predict these things with certainty. Maybe tomorrow, although Judge Hart isn’t resuming the trial till afternoon. So probably the day after.”
Loving looked as if he might be sick. “Tomorrow? Or the day after?”
Ben tried to be reassuring. “Relax, Loving. Christina and I will prepare you. By the time you’re on the stand, you’ll be able to do it in your sleep.”
“You know,” Loving said, “I was supposed to testify once before. I … kinda sorta didn’t show up.”
Loving was supposed to testify? Of course, Ben remembered. During his divorce. Ben had represented his ex-wife and Loving didn’t show up for the trial. And now he knew why. Loving wasn’t the first person who’d tanked a lawsuit because he couldn’t cope with cross-ex. “There’s no need to worry, Loving. I know everything Bullock will ask, and we’ll think out all your responses in advance. Christina will help. She’s the best witness preparer I’ve ever known. She thinks of everything. Seriously. You have nothing to worry about.”
It was amazing to see such a tiny voice come out of that hulking frame. “If you say so.”
“I do. You’ll see. You’ll come out smelling like a rose.”
Loving nodded, but it wasn’t hard to detect that he was somewhat less than convinced.
“The truth is,” Ben said, “the trial isn’t going very well for us just at the moment. The jury has heard a truckload of damaging evidence against our client. More than enough to convict him, frankly. If we’re going to prevent that, to prevent an innocent man from going to prison or being executed for a hideous crime he didn’t commit—we’re going to have to pull out all the stops. I need everyone to do everything they can to make our part of the case as good as it can possibly be. Understood?”
All heads nodded. Understood.
“By the way, Mike, any luck catching the creep who blew our office to smithereens?”
“Not yet. Sorry.”
Christina jumped in. “What’s taking so long?” The concern in her face was evident. “We can’t just sit around on our hands until this creep kills Ben.”
“The psych guys say he doesn’t want to kill Ben, at least not right away. He wants Ben to suffer.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on the facts. Think about it. Most of the bomber’s hijinks have been designed to torment, not to exterminate. Even when he blew up your office, he used a bomb with a detectable—and, I might add, totally unnecessary—ticking noise that could tip Ben off just in the nick of time. There are plenty of silent bomb trigger mechanisms around these days. Plenty of instantaneous, radio-signal remote-control detonators. He didn’t have to tip you off. But he did.”
“If I’d been half a minute slower,” Ben said, “we would’ve all died.”
Mike held up his hands. “Look, I’m not saying he’s a nice guy. And I’m not saying killing you wouldn’t necessarily make his day. I’m just saying it hasn’t been his immediate goal.” He paused. “Yet.”
“Yet?”
Mike’s teeth set together in a grim expression. “That’s the typical psychological profile. Eventually they get tired of toying with you.”
“And then?”
“And then they try to kill you.”
“Oh.” Ben sank back into his chair. “Any new leads? Any hope of finding this maniac?”
“The bomb ingredients were so common they were impossible to trace. We’ve got video experts going over and over the tapes he sent, but so far they haven’t uncovered any identifying features. We’re also cataloging all the nuts who have sent hate mail about the Barrett case to the courts or any of the participants. I’m hoping they’ll lead us to something.”
“What if this particular nut isn’t the letter writing type? What if he’s just the bombing-killing type?”
“We’re doing everything we can, kemo sabe.”
Ben nodded. He knew they were. It was just too frustrating, trying to conduct a murder trial while some maniac was determined to make your life a misery. Or end it.