The Victim (59 page)

Luisa nodded, flashed a compliant smile. “
Aye, es
okay.”

Gina was relieved by the comprehension.

Keys jangling in her hand, Gina checked the time on her phone, hopeful for enough leeway to make a quick run to Jamba Juice. She put on her sunglasses and stepped outside.

CHAPTER 64

Less than forty-five minutes after the state’s witness went to the restroom and did not return, Judge Morales skimmed over the State’s Motion For Writ Of Bodily Attachment. She signed it without hesitation. With one stroke of her pen, Judge Morales had authorized the Miami-Dade Police Department to go out and arrest Daniella Avery, remanding her to jail where she would remain without bond until she was dragged into court wearing Dade County orange, cuffed and shackled, so that her testimony could resume.

Things lingered without formality, but Judge Morales remained on the bench, as if waiting for that given moment when Daniella would be hauled before her in handcuffs, having been stopped just blocks away. It was early afternoon but Miami traffic knew no bounds. There were only so many places she could go in less than an hour.

The jury was still waiting in the jury room. Judge Morales had sent Diego down to Au Bon Pain with an order for sandwiches.

Normally Corrections would have brought Bryan to the back while the jury was out, but he remained at the table, constantly pushing back the sleeves of his too-long coat. He had asked a lot of questions but Anton assured him not to worry. That and the presence of the older, more experienced Jack Savarese had done a wonderful job of calming him down.

The in-court CO kept a watchful eye on Bryan while Jack and Anton stood a few feet away from the table.

“
This is a blessing in disguise,” Jack said, leaning in, lowering his voice to a rumbly octave. He peered over Anton’s shoulder at Sylvia and Melissa, still seated, each lost in their smart phones. “Fuck your client’s wishes. He doesn’t know what he wants. That’s why he has a lawyer. You move for a mistrial. Daniella or Lola, whoever she is, has denied you the opportunity to cross-examine a state witness. The right of confrontation is fundamental. To continue this trial would be to deprive your client of that right. So Morales declares it a mistrial. State will attempt to retry it, but if this lady’s gone then you may have just won.”

Anton shook his head. “What if they find her? What if this is all part of her game? So what, we get a mistrial today, new trial date in a month? Bryan sits in jail. State has unlimited resources. Believe me, Jack, they’ll find her if given enough time. And Morales will give them that time.”

He motioned to Sylvia with his eyes. “Go talk to her. See if she’ll give you something.”

Anton summoned his courage and walked over. The shadow he cast across the prosecution table alerted them to his presence. Both Sylvia and Melissa looked up from their phones.

“
Yes?”

“
Sylvia, can we talk out in the hall?”

They stepped out into the vestibule and into the hallway. It was after two and the courthouse was nearly empty. They found a spot by the emergency doors.

“
You still going to go forward?”

She sighed as if the request itself was exhausting. “Uh,
yes!
I don’t care who she thinks she is or who you think she is, for that matter. She’s already testified. You’re the one who needs her now, with your dog and pony show. And what the hell is that about? If she doesn’t show, judge’ll declare a mistrial and we’ll find her and make this thing happen. If you want to discuss a plea, given the unusual circumstances, I’m happy to listen.”

“
Sylvia,” he begged, “she’s not who she says she is. This is all made up. Her name is Lola Munson. She was presumed dead back in 2003. This guy out in Arizona, a sex offender, was blamed for her death. He had mental issues and drug problems and the feds who took his statement tricked him into confessing and then edited that from—”

Sylvia held up a
stop
hand, quelling the rant. “Anton. You’re a young attorney and you’ve got a brilliant career ahead of you. But I don’t know what you plan to do out there. The damage has been done. You shouldn’t have gone to trial without really preparing this case. You let your client call the shots and you opened the door to some really damaging testimony. I’m happy to stipulate to a mistrial. But then what? We’re trying this case again two months down the road? Why not talk your client into a plea and let’s close this thing.” Sylvia pursed her lips tightly, no doubt thinking about the possibility that her star witness was really someone else.

“
Look, my victim is clearly no longer interested in this case, if she just up and ran. So I don’t need to consult with her. I’ll offer a plea of three years followed by two years probation.” Anton’s eyes widened, impressed. Three years in state prison followed by two years probation was a damn good deal for a felony punishable by life. “That’s below guidelines,” Sylvia reminded.

“
Normally I’d agree, Sylvia, but my client’s innocent. This isn’t because of a lack of evidence or me wanting to roll the dice. He didn’t do it. This was a setup. This case has nothing to do with him. He’s just the poor sap that got caught up with a woman hell-bent on revenge.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes. “And just who is Daniella Avery seeking revenge upon?”

Anton slowed his roll. “Let me go convey the plea.”

Anton opened the courtroom door, letting Sylvia pass by, and beckoned Jack to come outside. He slipped out into the hallway, his eyes wide, eagerly awaiting something.

“
And?”

“
She’s offering three followed by two.”

Jack pumped his fist. “That’s a great deal. Let’s go talk him into it. He’s been in custody nearly two months now. So with gain time and the two months worth of CTS he’s looking at what, twenty-eight, twenty-nine more months?”

Anton did the quick math in his head. Florida doesn’t have parole or early release or good behavior incentives. By law, all state prison inmates must serve eighty-five percent of their sentences.

“
About that.”

“
Good. He takes the plea, which is far below what he scores out to. That puts an end to this case once and for all, and you can live with yourself knowing that your client got a great deal.” Jack held his stare, waiting for something. “Is that not okay?”

“
He’s gonna do prison time to spare me. I don’t care if it’s three years or three months. He’s sitting here because of me. She wants to get me and she used him to do it. Not to mention Mandy, Jack. What if she saw that email from his buddy at Customs?”

Jack gripped a handful of Anton’s lapel, shaking him as he tensed his grip.

“
Forget it,” he snapped, the words rough in his throat. His eyes were reduced to black points. “Don’t even think about it. Don’t ever throw yourself on the sword for a client. I don’t give two shits about your moral dilemma. You’re a father. A husband. You have responsibilities greater than your goddamn conscience. You get him to plea and you put this thing to bed. That lady’s gone. But he’s still on trial and you’ve got a shot to end it cheaply. You don’t think there aren’t innocent guys sitting in prison? You don’t think innocent guys don’t walk into this building every day and plead guilty or get convicted by juries? In forty-six years of practice you know the one thing I’ve never asked a client?”

Jack let go. Anton smoothed out his lapel.

“
What’s that?”

“
Did you do it.”

CHAPTER 65

The time on her status update showed it had been posted exactly two minutes earlier. An iPhone snapshot of her long fingers wrapped around the water-beaded styrofoam cup. The caption read
Absolute necessity! 2 pm Banana Berry fix!
A half a dozen self-made hashtags followed. She had already gotten three likes.

The post came from a mobile device, the smoothie clearly photographed after she’d purchased it, probably drinking it in her parked car. The black curve of her steering wheel was visible in the picture.

That, and where she was.

The intermarriage between Facebook and smart phones enabled users to include their location in a post simply through the phone’s inherent geolocation feature.

Hollywood, Florida.

It was Monday.
Gina saw her shrink on Mondays, didn’t she?

She was parked in the far corner of a shopping center, her Mercedes ML 350 wedged in a tight space between an enormous Infiniti QX56 and a Chrysler Town & Country. Droplets clung to the shiny roofs of a hundred cars, the aftermath of a random sun shower. Stay-at-home moms pushed overflowing shopping carts back to their cars, toddlers flailing in the cart seat. A few young car salesmen bearing Coconut Creek Automall button-downs walked out of Publix carrying to-go bags from the deli. A woman tugged at the leash of her resistant Bernese Mountain Dog, his upturned muzzle catching whiffs of the familiar air, realizing a trip to the veterinary clinic was imminent.

A Broward Sheriff’s Office patrol car rolled down her aisle. She watched in the rearview as the deputy didn’t even look in her direction. His eyes, hidden behind a pair of opaque reflectors, stayed straight ahead.

Her posture loosened. She breathed easier.

She turned her head around, eyeing the newly purchased car seat, rear-facing with an array of plastic rings and little stuffed monkeys dangling from the handle.

She closed the Facebook app and dialed the number she had written down on a Post-It taped to her dashboard.

After two rings, a brusk female voice answered, “The Oaks of Parkland, South Gate, how can I help you?”

“
Yes,” she said, warmly. “This is Gina Mackey calling, 8512 Sparrowdell. My sister is going to be dropping by in about ten minutes. Please let her in.”

She could hear the guard jotting down the information before saying “thank you” and hanging up.

CHAPTER 66

Nearly two hours and no update. Morales’s frown lines carved deep grooves in her otherwise smooth skin. Her bunched cheeks and cautious eyes echoed the sentiments of her mind, the gears of judicial know-it-all grinding to a screeching, greaseless halt.
In a fucking election year, no less.
As a judge, she felt as if she should have had an answer for everything, a solution to any legal conundrum—foreseeable or otherwise—that should arise in her division.

She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, shaking her head as if to say
Why does this shit have to happen to me?

As if sensing her angst from down the hall, Odalis, Morales’s JA, came in through the judge’s entrance carrying a stack of plastic mini cups and a small stainless steel percolator.

“
Thank God,” Morales said.

Odalis assembled the mini cups on the bench and poured a shot for the judge and the four lawyers. Even Corrections gave her a nod, indicating that the defendant could have one, too. Anton downed his in one sip and brought Bryan’s back to the table. Reinvigorated and refocused, Judge Morales stated that she wanted to go back on the record.

“
Alright,” she said, squinting at the clock above the door. “It’s now 3:04 p.m. The witness, Daniella Avery, stepped outside shortly after one, indicating that she was going to visit the restroom and would be back. This court instructed the witness to be back inside the courtroom within five minutes. Failing to comply, this court sent Assistant State Attorney Kaplan outside to locate her. Despite her efforts, which included checking multiple restrooms in this building, calling, and sending text messages to the witness, she was unable to locate her. At approximately 1:50 p.m., this court granted the State’s Motion For Writ Of Bodily Attachment and instructed the Miami-Dade Police Department to locate the witness and take her into custody. As of 3:05 p.m. now, the witness has not been located and the jury is waiting.