“Ms. Atwater, do you have any hesitation or doubt at all about the genetic match you have just testified about?”
“No, none whatsoever.”
“Do you believe beyond a doubt that the hair from Melissa Landy is a unique match to the hair specimen obtained from the tow truck the defendant was operating on February sixteenth, nineteen eighty-six?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Is there a quantifiable way of illustrating this match?”
“Yes, as I illustrated earlier, we matched nine out of the thirteen genetic markers in the CODIS protocol. The combination of these nine particular genetic markers occurs in one in one-point-six trillion individuals.”
“Are you saying it is a one-in-one-point-six-trillion chance that the hair found in the tow truck operated by the defendant belonged to someone other than Melissa Landy?”
“You could say it that way, yes.”
“Ms. Atwater, do you happen to know the current population of the world?”
“It’s approaching seven billion.”
“Thank you, Ms. Atwater. I have no further questions at this time.”
I moved to my seat and sat down. Immediately I started stacking files and documents, getting it all ready for the briefcase and the ride home. This day was in the books and I had a long night ahead of me preparing for the next one. The judge didn’t seem to begrudge me finishing ten minutes early. She was shutting down herself and sending the jury home.
“We will continue with the cross-examination of this witness tomorrow. I would like to thank all of you for paying such close attention to today’s testimony. We will be adjourned until nine o’clock sharp tomorrow morning and I once again admonish you not to watch any news program or-”
“Your Honor?”
I looked up from the files. Royce was on his feet.
“Yes, Mr. Royce?”
“My apologies, Judge Breitman, for interrupting. But by my watch, it is only four-fifty and I know that you prefer to get as much testimony as possible in each day. I would like to cross-examine this witness now.”
The judge looked at Atwater, who was still on the witness stand, and then back to Royce.
“Mr. Royce, I would rather you begin your cross tomorrow morning rather than start and then interrupt it after only ten minutes. We don’t go past five o’clock with the jury. That is a rule I will not break.”
“I understand, Judge. But I am not planning to interrupt it. I will be finished with this witness by five o’clock and then she will not be required to return tomorrow.”
The judge stared at Royce for a long moment, a disbelieving look on her face.
“Mr. Royce, Ms. Atwater is one of the prosecution’s key witnesses. Are you telling me you only need five minutes for cross-examination?”
“Well, of course it depends on the length of her answers, but I have only a few questions, Your Honor.”
“Very well, then. You may proceed. Ms. Atwater, you remain under oath.”
Royce moved to the lectern and I was as confused as the judge about the defense’s maneuver. I had expected Royce to take most of the next morning on cross. This had to be a trick. He had a DNA expert on his own witness list but I would never give up a shot at the prosecution’s witness.
“Ms. Atwater,” Royce said, “did all of the testing and typing and extracting you conducted on the hair specimen from the tow truck tell you how the specimen got inside that truck?”
To buy time Atwater asked Royce to repeat the question. But even upon hearing it a second time, she did not answer until the judge intervened.
“Ms. Atwater, can you answer the question?” Breitman asked.
“Uh, yes, I’m sorry. My answer is no, the lab work I conducted had nothing to do with determining how the hair specimen found its way into the tow truck. That was not my responsibility.”
“Thank you,” Royce said. “So to make it crystal clear, you cannot tell the jury how that hair-which you have capably identified as belonging to the victim-got inside the truck or who put it there, isn’t that right?”
I stood.
“Objection. Assumes facts not in evidence.”
“Sustained. Would you like to rephrase, Mr. Royce?”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Ms. Atwater, you have no idea-other than what you were perhaps told-how the hair you tested found its way into the tow truck, correct?”
“That would be correct, yes.”
“So you can identify the hair as Melissa Landy’s but you cannot testify with the same sureness as to how it ended up in the tow truck, correct?”
I stood up again.
“Objection,” I said. “Asked and answered.”
“I think I will let the witness answer,” Breitman said. “Ms. Atwater?”
“Yes, that is correct,” Atwater said. “I cannot testify about anything regarding how the hair happened to end up in the truck.”
“Then I have no further questions. Thank you.”
I turned back and looked at the clock. I had two minutes. If I wanted to get the jury back on track I had to think of something quick.
“Any redirect, Mr. Haller?” the judge asked.
“One moment, Your Honor.”
I turned and leaned toward Maggie to whisper.
“What do I do?”
“Nothing,” she whispered back. “Let it go or you might make it worse. You made your points. He made his. Yours are more important-you put Melissa inside his truck. Leave it there.”
Something told me not to leave it as is but my mind was a blank. I couldn’t think of a question derived from Royce’s cross that would get the jury off his point and back onto mine.
“Mr. Haller?” the judge said impatiently.
I gave it up.
“No further questions at this time, Your Honor.”
“Very well, then, we will adjourn for the day. Court will reconvene at nine A.M. tomorrow and I admonish the jurors not to read newspaper accounts about this trial or view television reports or talk to family or friends about the case. I hope everyone has a good night.”
With that the jury stood and began to file out of the box. I casually glanced over at the defense table and saw Royce being congratulated by Jessup. They were all smiles. I felt a hollow in my stomach the size of a baseball. It was as though I had played it to near perfection all day long-for almost six hours of testimony-and then in the last five minutes managed to let the last out in the ninth go right between my legs.
I sat still and waited until Royce and Jessup and everybody else had left the courtroom.
“You coming?” Maggie said from behind me.
“In a minute. How about I meet you back at the office?”
“Let’s walk back together.”
“I’m not good company, Mags.”
“Haller, get over it. You had a great day. We had a great day. He was good for five minutes and the jury knows that.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you there in a little bit.”
She gave up and I heard her leave. After a few minutes I reached over to the top file on the stack in front of me and opened it up halfway. A school photo of Melissa Landy was clipped inside the folder. Smiling at the camera. She looked nothing like my daughter but she made me think of Hayley.
I made a silent vow not to let Royce outsmart me again.
A few moments later, someone turned out the lights.
Thirty-two
Tuesday, April 6, 10:15 P.M .
Bosch stood by the swing set planted in the sand a quarter mile south of the Santa Monica Pier. The black water of the Pacific to his left was alive with the dancing reflection of light and color from the Ferris wheel at the end of the boardwalk. The amusement park had closed fifteen minutes earlier but the light show would go on through the night, an electronic display of ever-changing patterns on the big wheel that was mesmerizing in the cold darkness.