“Because she knows we’re watching the apartment.”
“Right. So she has to put Gloria someplace where she’s not only safe but will stay put. How many places does that leave?”
“Hell if I know,” Harris said.
“Not many, and I’ll bet one of them is Grace Canfield’s house.”
“Why?”
“I checked her out. Her husband is a retired firefighter. Got a couple of medals for running into burning buildings and saving lives. Guy like that would tie Gloria down if that’s what it took.”
“Sounds like he’s the perfect babysitter,” Harris said.
**
Frank Canfield met Mason at the bottom of the stairs.
“Here’s your spy kit,” he said. “Did she tell you anything?”
Mason shook his head. “Maybe Grace can get something out of her.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why? Grace got her to come here.”
“Only ’cause she spent the money Virginia Sprague gave her and it beats the hell out of sleeping on the street or turning tricks for a hot meal, but that doesn’t mean she trusts Grace enough to talk to her, at least not yet. How long can you wait to find out what she knows?”
“Not long enough if the cops find her.”
“How are they going to get her to talk if you or Grace can’t?”
“Depends on whether they’ve got leverage we don’t.”
“Like what?”
“Like serious jail time. If the cops come for her, let me know.”
“You may not have to wait,” Frank said, pointing to the sedan pulling up in front of his house, watching the driver step out.
“Shit.”
“You know him?”
“Yeah. Hank Rossi. Homicide cop. He’s been chasing Gloria too.”
“What should I do if he asks if Gloria is here?”
“Let him in. No reason for you to get in any trouble over this. You’ve done enough and I appreciate it.”
He walked past Rossi to his car without stopping. “Evening, Detective.”
“Counselor,” Rossi said.
Frank Canfield stood outside his door. “Can I help you?” he asked Rossi.
Rossi flashed his badge. “I’m looking for a woman named Gloria Temple.”
Frank opened the door. “In the kitchen.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Alex sat in her chair at the defense counsel table, bleary-eyed from a restless night, hands in her lap, rubbing her palms and twisting her fingers. The morning session had begun with Claire’s cross-examination of Bonnie. Claire had been brief, highlighting how afraid Bonnie had been of Dwayne Reed, staying away from whether Alex had been truthful with her about the gun. Having Bonnie repeat or explain that testimony would only remind the jury of it. A lie was a lie.
Alex and Bonnie had hardly spoken last night, knowing that they couldn’t yet lift their self-imposed gag order. All they could do was get in bed and hug and hold each other.
“I’m so sor-,” Bonnie started to say before Alex pressed a finger gently against her lips.
“Don’t,” she said as they wrapped themselves together.
Alex waited until Bonnie was asleep before untangling herself and getting out of bed, putting on a coat and sitting outside on the patio. Quincy followed her, curling up on top of her feet, keeping them warm.
She knew that Ortiz had won the day and she knew how difficult it was to play catch-up in a murder trial, shivering at what that might mean for her and Bonnie. After an hour, the cold chased Quincy and her inside. She spooned against Bonnie’s back, kissing her on the cheek without waking her, asking herself again whether killing Dwayne Reed had been worth it. No matter what else happened, he would never hurt anyone again, especially Bonnie, and that was answer enough. As she drifted into sleep, an image of Dwayne’s body lying on the floor swept across her closed eyes, leaving her with an uneasy peace.
Sitting in court the next morning, she saw another picture of Dwayne’s body, only this time it was splashed across a fifty-inch video screen and Odyessy Shelburne was weeping at the sight of it. Ortiz had called her as his next witness after Bonnie. She’d been on the stand the rest of the morning, testifying about Dwayne from the moment he was born, bragging about how good he’d been to her and how little she deserved it because of the life she’d led, admitting to a litany of petty crimes, drug abuse, and prostitution.
Her family story and personal confession out of the way, Ortiz led her through the events leading up to the moment Alex shot Dwayne, pointing to the photograph and asking her if she recognized her son. Odyessy’s answer was in her tears.
“Ms. Shelburne,” he said, “would you like a moment to compose yourself?”
She shook her head, pulling a tissue from the box on the witness stand, rubbing her eyes and wiping her nose. “I’m okay.”
“Does this photograph show your son when you found him after the defendant shot him?”
Alex nudged Claire, whispering, “Object! That’s leading.”
Claire gave her a sideways glance, keeping her voice down. “I’m not going to drag it out, and neither would you if it weren’t your case.”
Alex nodded, her face flushed with embarrassment. She knew better but couldn’t help herself.
“Ms. Shelburne?” Ortiz said.
Odyessy sniffled. “Yes. That’s my boy.”
“Where were you when the defendant shot him?”
“I was on my way down the stairs.”
“Where had you been before you started down the stairs?”
“In my room.”
“Why did you leave your room and go downstairs?”
“On account of I heard his lawyer shoutin’ at Dwayne.”
“What was she shouting?”
“All kind of crazy stuff.”
“Can you be more specific? What exactly did she say?”
Odyessy straightened and glared at Alex. “She say she gonna kill him.”
“Had you been in your room the entire time that the defendant was in your house before you heard her say she was going to kill your son?”
“Yes, sir. I was up in my room the whole time.”
“And was your door open or closed?”
“It was open.”
“Could you hear the conversation between your son and the defendant before she said she was going to kill him?”
“Not too much till she started screamin’.”
“What did you do when you heard the defendant say she was going to kill your son?”
“I hightailed it down the stairs.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I was scared for my boy.”
“Were you scared that you might be in danger if you went down the stairs?”
Odyessy shook her head. “I wadn’t thinkin’ like that. I was jus’ scared for Dwayne.”
