“Very well. Juror Number Twelve, you are hereby relieved of duty. Bailiff, please notify the first alternate that she is now a member of the primary panel.” She glanced toward Deanna. “You’re free to go.”
“Wait,” Ben said. “I want to talk to you.”
“Your honor, I object.” Bullock leaned against the edge of the judge’s desk. “We’re in the middle of the trial. The defense is putting on its case.”
Ben shrugged. “So?”
“If he’s allowed to quiz this woman, he might be able to use her information during his case. This gives him an advantage—since our case is completed, we won’t have a chance to use her. It’s unfair.”
“Unfair?” Ben’s face tightened. “If I’m not given every possible opportunity to clear my client, that’s unfair.”
Judge Hart held up her hands. “Calm down, gentlemen. I know argument is your life, but there’s no need for it here. I understand your position, Mr. Bullock, but I can’t agree. Mr. Barrett is, after all, literally on trial for his life. We cannot withhold any arguably relevant evidence from the defense, even under these unique circumstances. But to make sure this development is not exploited improperly, the interrogation will take place right here, in my chambers, with both sides present, not to mention me. You’ll know as much as defense counsel does, Mr. Bullock, even before you read about it in the Enquirer. And if Mr. Kincaid uses this witness and you want to respond, you’ll have cross-ex and closing. You may even be able to call rebuttal witnesses, depending upon the circumstances. However it plays out, it will play out fair. I guarantee it.” She looked up at Deanna. “Does that sound satisfactory to you?”
Deanna nodded.
“Good. Mr. Kincaid, would you like to begin the questioning of this witness?”
“I certainly would. Ms. Meanders, do you know who killed Caroline Barrett and her two children?”
Deanna twisted her fingers around themselves. “No. I mean, I’m not sure. Maybe.”
Ben whipped out his legal pad and started taking notes. “Tell me everything you know.”
About an hour later, Ben left the conference in Judge Hart’s chambers. He motioned to Christina, Jones, and Loving, who were waiting in the back of the courtroom.
“Team meeting,” he said. “Now.”
They found a private nook in the foyer outside the courtroom and huddled. “You’re not going to believe this one,” he warned them in advance. “This case gets weirder by the minute.”
As quickly as possible, Ben told them everything he had learned from Deanna Meanders.
“We have to get a hold of this Buck character,” Ben said firmly. “And we don’t have much time. Loving, are you prepared to give this your full-court press?
“You bet, Skipper. I just wish I knew where to start.”
“Even if you find him,” Ben said, “he probably won’t talk to you, much less come to court voluntarily and testify. We’ll need a subpoena. Christina, can you work that up?”
“Tout de suite.”
“Good. Judge Hart has agreed to stay in chambers today and make herself available. Given the way this mess has unfolded, I’m sure she’ll sign the subpoena. If we find him. Any other suggestions?”
Jones chimed in. “Maybe we should drag in Whitman, too. He’s been coming to the trial, but there’s no guarantee he won’t disappear, especially if Buck tells him he’s been subpoenaed.”
“Good thinking,” Ben said. “If Buck is the punk Loving saw at O’Brien Park, then he’s contacted Whitman at least once before. The day Christina and I went to Whitman’s office.”
“No, that’s wrong.” Christina snapped her fingers. “Don’t you remember? When we were listening in on Whitman, after we left his office. There was silence, then clicking noises. About a minute later, Buck called him.”
“It could just be a coincidence,” Ben murmured.
“That Buck calls Whitman moments after we’ve stirred up the hornet’s nest and Whitman is desperate to talk to him? No way. Somehow Whitman got a message to him.”
“But how?” Ben asked. “Whitman was in his office the whole time. He didn’t pick up the phone till Buck called him. He didn’t have time to send a letter or fax. How could he have contacted him?”
“E-mail,” Jones said. “That has to be it. Those clicking noises you heard— he must’ve been typing at the keyboard of his desktop computer. Whitman sent an e-mail message to Buck, telling him to contact him.”
That would explain the almost-immediate call from Buck, Ben thought. “Why not just call Buck directly?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Buck works near a computer terminal but not near a phone. Or maybe Whitman didn’t want a record of the contact.”
“Listen, Jones, you’re our computer expert. Are you familiar with the computer system they use at the city office building?”
“Sure. I’m over there all the time.”
“Okay, narrow the field for us. Who could Whitman have e-mailed?”
“Well, if you’re on the Net, you can e-mail anyone else on the Net, assuming you know their address. Thing is, the city office building isn’t on the Net. All they have is an intranet connection with an internal e-mail system.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning city employees can e-mail each other.” His eyes widened. “Buck works for the city.”
“Of course,” Ben echoed. “He probably works in the same building. That would explain how he and Whitman were able to work so closely together. Loving, we just narrowed the field for you.”
“Roger. I’m out of here.”
“All right. But be back by two, when the judge calls the court back in session. I’m probably going to have to put you on the stand, no matter what happens.”
Loving looked as if he might be sick to his stomach. “I’ll try not to think about it.” He hustled through the back doors and disappeared.
“We still have a problem, though,” Christina said, “even if we do find Buck. We have nothing to link him to Whitman other than Loving’s testimony. Even if we prove Buck was the guy casing Barrett’s neighborhood, Whitman will deny that he knew him.”
Ben nodded grimly. “We need some sure way of tying the two men together. That’s the problem with e-mail. Once you’ve sent the message or read it, you click on the delete button and it’s gone forever.”
“Don’t you ever listen to anything I tell you?” Jones said, raising a finger.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Remember what I told you in the office the very first day we started working on this case?”
“Actually … no,” Ben admitted.
“Well then,” Jones said, a slow smile creeping across his face, “listen up.”
Chapter 62
COURT DID NOT RESUME until shortly after two in the afternoon. By that time, each of Ben’s staff members had reported back, Ben had made the necessary motions, and the judge had issued the necessary subpoenas. Bullock was being quiet, but Ben could see that his eyes were alert and he was riding wary, ready to pounce as soon as he had the opportunity. He knew something was up. He just wasn’t sure what it was.
Which was fair enough, since Ben wasn’t entirely sure himself.
“The defense calls Mr. Aloysius J. Loving.”
Loving took the stand and growled and mumbled his way through Ben’s preliminary questions. He did not appear at all comfortable; he slouched, he shifted his weight, he talked through his hands. In a way, though, Ben thought that might actually work in their favor. After so many media-savvy witnesses and high-dollar experts, the jury might be relieved to see someone who was, well, just as they would be.
Loving related the story of how Ben had asked him to stake out O’Brien Park (without revealing the means by which Ben acquired his suspicion that a meeting would take place). Loving described how he saw two men meet and argue. How the first man had beaten the second and then given him cash to “take care of business.” Finally Loving described, to his obvious mortification, getting conked over the head and losing his camera. “If it hadn’t been for that,” he explained, “I’d have pictures here today to prove what I saw. But the chump that got the drop on me swiped the film. And my only camera.”