Witness for the Defense (23 page)

“Come on,” I heard Bobby yell. He was at least twenty yards in front of me. I was chugging as fast as I could, but he was much younger and in much better shape.

Looking over my shoulder, I could see the car getting closer as it mowed its way toward us. Trees, branches, and mud were flying everywhere. Suddenly, the ground slammed against my face. My eyes covered with mud and pine needles, I could barely see. I’d tripped over a large rock.

I could hear the car getting closer. Wiping my eyes, I got up and staggered forward.

“Over here,” Bobby shouted, and he ran into the first row of the taller trees.

I don’t know how close the car was when I finally made it to the same spot where Bobby had disappeared. But a second or two later, the roaring of its engine stopped. I was in the middle of row upon row of eight-foot-tall Christmas trees, all mirror images of each other. The wind had stopped and the rain had been replaced by a light cool mist. I continued to push my way through. Except for the rustling of the branches, there was total silence.

I couldn’t go any farther. My legs wouldn’t let me. Stooped over, with my hands on my knees, I gasped for air, planning what I would do next. I remembered the main highway bordered these larger trees. If I could reach it before they found me, I was sure I could flag somebody down. That was my best hope, the highway.

As I forced myself to push on, I thought of Bobby and where he might be. He had to be safe if I was. Then I heard the roaring of the engine again. But this time it was different. Rather than a long continuous roar, these were shorter bursts. Each interrupted by a moment or two of silence. This went on for over a minute before I realized the car was stuck in the mud.

I plodded forward, knowing that as long as they continued to try to free their heap, we’d be safe.

A couple of minutes went by before I heard someone shouting from quite a distance behind. The now familiar sound of gunfire was followed by more shouting. This time the voices sounded closer.

But why the gunfire? Even if they gave up on their car and were now on foot, they were nowhere close to me. But what about Bobby? Where in the hell was Bobby?

It was too dangerous to go back and try to find him. I had to keep moving in the direction of the main highway.

I pushed through another hundred yards of wet branches when I heard a car come to a screeching stop ahead of me. Knowing I had to be almost there, I picked up the pace. After only a few more rows of trees, I reached a narrow clearing. On the other side, I could see the main highway and the red glow of a car’s taillights.

That’s when I saw Bobby. He was leaning inside the passenger door of Sarah’s gold Lexus.

Chapter 24

“The two of you are lucky,” Sarah said.

For the better part of an hour we’d been sitting in the waiting room of Mendocino County Hospital. We were expecting Bobby to come out of the emergency room any minute. An RN had already informed us that the bullet had only nicked his upper arm, and after they cleaned and bandaged it, he could leave.

Once Bobby and I were safely inside Sarah’s car, she’d used her car phone to call the police. She’d pulled to the side of the road while we waited. It didn’t take long for four black-and-whites with their sirens blasting to converge on the farm. They followed the destructive path the hoods had taken as they chased us through the field. But all they could find was their abandoned car, stuck in the mud. I was sure they’d heard the cops coming and had run into the hills, leaving their still unconscious leader, Michael Victoria, behind.

As if it wasn’t enough that I was sore, dirty, wet, and physically exhausted, I also had to put up with McBean and his questions in the hospital. He finally left us alone when a nurse informed him Victoria was conscious. He was grilling him right then, no doubt.

I sighed deeply. “If I had any luck at all, I never would have heard of Bobby Miles or his damn problems.”

Sarah forced a smile, then lowered her head and stared at the floor as her foot outlined a figure-eight on the shiny linoleum. She had already been terribly worried about her father when this happened. When she had left the courtroom to make sure her father was all right, she’d found that he and his Blazer had disappeared. The rest of the afternoon and into the evening she’d been looking for him.

What had happened in court had raised all kinds of questions. I was sure Sarah had to be wondering whether or not I suspected him. But, more important, there was the possibility that she didn’t know who her father was or what he might be capable of.

I tried a feeble attempt at a joke. “The bright side to all this is that your dad will have several hundred less trees to trim in the future.”

“I don’t even want to think about what his reaction will be,” she said. “Assuming he ever shows up.”

I placed my hand on her forearm to get her full attention. “Make sure he understands I’ll pay for the damage.”

For the first time that night she smiled. “With what? You’re unemployed, remember?”

“Not for long. Mr. Bobby Miles will take care of that.”

I knew that once Patterson talked to the kid, he’d have to dismiss the charges. I’d finally be out from underneath the cloud that had been darkening my life for the last month. “You and I are going to trot him into the D.A.’s office and tell them I want an apology.”

She seemed distracted as she said, “I can’t wait.”

“I knew you were good. But a damn dismissal?” I nudged her side with my elbow. “You’re not just good, you’re great.”

I chuckled, but her face went blank again. She glanced at her watch for the twentieth time since we’d been there.

“I wish they’d hurry up with Bobby.”

“Me, too,” I said, shifting in my seat. I was just as anxious as she was to get out of there. I needed to clean up and get a change of clothes. My underwear was soaked, and I was beginning to believe that maybe more than a few pine needles had found their way inside my shorts. I looked at the mud covering my clothes. “Once this stuff dries, I won’t be able to move.”

“How about me?” she said, inspecting the front of her new suit. Scattered randomly were splotches of dried mud and Bobby’s blood from when she’d helped him into her car.

She looked at her watch again. “I wonder if I should call the house?”

“I’m sure your father’s fine,” I said. “He probably has some honey on the side you don’t know about.”

“I wish.”

I leaned back and closed my eyes, wondering myself where he was.

“You suspect him, don’t you?” she asked.

My eyes popped open; Sarah was looking directly at me. “Suspect who?” I stammered, not wanting to get into it. We were both exhausted. Plus, I wanted to talk to him first.

“Don’t play games,” she said impatiently. “We have to discuss it sometime.”

I tried to defuse her grim mood. “I know that after what happened in court today, you must be concerned, but I’m sure there’s nothing to it.”

Her eyes flared. “You better not use my father as some kind of scapegoat.”

I was chilled by her tone. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you better not try to convince the jury—or anyone else, for that matter—that my father could just as easily be Danny’s attacker as Jared.” I tried to protest, but she added darkly, “It would be like you to try to confuse them just to get Jared off.”

I was getting mad. “Do you honestly think I would do something like that?”

She wasn’t backing down. “Most attorneys will do anything to get their clients off.”

“Well, I’m not like most attorneys.”

Sarah bowed her head. Her lower lip started quivering, and tears began to fill her eyes. She gently touched my hand. “I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.”

Seeing her so pained, I felt my anger begin to diffuse. “I am, too.”

“I’m so afraid,” she said, sniffling.

I brought my face to hers while taking both her hands in mine. Our noses were almost touching when from down the hall came a voice.

“Hey, haven’t you love birds left yet?” It was McBean walking briskly toward us with a smirk on his face.

Sarah immediately pulled away, quickly wiping her cheeks with her fingers.

I stood and placed myself between the two of them to shield her from his view. “What’s taking so long?”

McBean craned his neck, straining to get a glimpse of Sarah, who was still trying to compose herself. “That Victoria character is a clam,” he said. “Won’t say a damn thing except that he wants to talk to his shyster. Of course, he can’t say much with all those wires anyway.”

“Wires?”

“Yeah, wires,” McBean said and laughed. “I guess I better be more careful about what I say to you.” He turned to Sarah, who was now standing next to me. “Don’t want to piss your boyfriend off. Seems as if one punch broke that gangbanger’s jaw. Can you believe it?”

I shrugged, but I was as surprised as anyone by what McBean was saying. Must have caught him just right.

“What about the boy?”

“If you mean Miles, he’s fine. They finished with him half an hour ago.”

I was sure he knew we’d been waiting all this time for Bobby. But McBean no doubt figured if he had to be out this late, knowing he had to testify in the morning, he was going to make sure I was, too. “Half hour?” I growled. “Where is he?”

“He’s gone. A deputy already left with him.”

“But he was going to stay with us,” Sarah said, looking at me to confirm it.

McBean smirked. “Nope, his lodging will be courtesy of Mendocino County for a while. It’ll take at least a week to process the paperwork, then he’ll be shipped to San Francisco.”

“But why?” Sarah asked.

“Didn’t make his court appearances like he should have.”

“He has an outstanding warrant?” I asked.

“Drug case. Never showed up for his prelim.”

I had a good idea of what must have happened. Bobby was afraid and never went back to court. That was something he had conveniently left out back at the guest house.

“He needs protection,” I said. “Victoria and his buddies are after him.”

“Victoria’s in no position to do anything to anybody for a while. Just cool your heels and let me take care of it.”

“But what about his gang?”

“Don’t worry. I know how important he is to you, and you can bet I will do everything I can to make sure he gets to the big city in one piece.”

Sarah and I both knew what that meant. Until Miles met with Patterson, I was still at risk.

McBean jammed his hands in his pockets and left. Halfway down the hall, he stopped and turned.

“Don’t forget, Dobbs,” he shouted, “the two of us have a date in court tomorrow.”

“Right,” I mumbled to Sarah. “And that’s when I’ll begin to expose you for the crooked cop you are.”

Chapter 25

To my surprise Richard Stamps, the Sheriff’s Department fingerprint expert, was the first witness Bragg called to the stand on the second day of testimony. However, once the D.A. was halfway through his direct, I realized why he’d saved McBean for last.

Just one year out of grad school, Stamps had very little on-the-job experience, and Jared’s was only the second trial in which he’d testified. Stamps would answer each question only after pausing to look at his supervisor, who was seated in the front row behind the prosecution table. When Stamps said Danny’s fingerprints were found on the Gummy Bear wrapper, his voice was so low, Priest had to ask him to talk louder. When he raised his voice for the judge, it changed from one octave to another as though he’d just begun puberty. Bragg finally completed his direct and turned his expert over to me. But not before he gave Stamps’s supervisor a disgusted look on his way back to his seat.

Normally, a witness like Stamps would have been a defense attorney’s dream. An inexperienced rookie was easy prey But I felt sorry for the young man. It wasn’t his fault his boss was an idiot for giving him such an important assignment. And if I pitied him, I was sure everyone on the jury did, too.

I was well aware that unless you have something to gain, the best cross-examination is no cross-examination. That way the jury will know whenever you do ask a question, it’s because you feel it’s important. They’ll appreciate that and will tend to pay more attention. Besides, I’d had the same Gummy Bear wrapper examined by retired S.F.P.D. fingerprint expert, Robert Foltz, one of the most highly regarded experts in the state, and he was in total agreement with Stamps’s analysis. I was contesting whether or not the wrapper was found in Jared’s car, not whether Danny Barton’s fingerprints were on it. Stamps wasn’t my focus, McBean was.

“No questions.”

Stamps gave the judge a confused look.

Amusement flickered in Priest’s eyes. “You may step down,” she said, “And you better hurry before Mr. Dobbs changes his mind.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stamps said and scurried from the stand with relief written all over his face. Most of the male jurors snickered, while a couple of the women looked at me and smiled. I was sure I wouldn’t regret that decision.

During his many interviews with the media, Bragg had boasted on more than one occasion that he would win his case with a “one-two-three-punch combination.” Even though his first two punches, Danny and Stamps, had been a tad short of devastation, McBean would be a knockout punch if I couldn’t come up with more to discredit him.

“Your next witness,” Priest said to the D.A.

Bragg looked at McBean, who was seated next to him. “The people call Lieutenant William McBean to the stand.”

McBean smiled throughout the first half hour of his direct, which dealt mostly with his training and experience. He knew how to play it. Make sure the jury liked him so there would be no way they could believe he’d do anything that wasn’t by the book. Pausing after each question, he’d turn to look at the jury before he answered. His direct had been well rehearsed, but I never expected anything less.

“I moved from San Francisco to remove my teenage sons from the sex, drugs, and crime which pervaded the high school they were attending,” McBean said, and at least two of the jurors nodded their heads. Of course, I knew the real reason McBean had left San Francisco and it had nothing to do with his sons.