“What happened while you were coming down the stairs?”
“She shot him. Shot him down like a dog.”
“Who did you see shoot your son?”
“That woman!” she said, flinging her arm at Alex.
“And could you also see your son at the moment he was shot?”
“I surely did.”
“What was he doing at that moment?”
She folded her arms across her chest, setting her jaw in a hard line. “He wasn’t doin’ nuthin’. Just standin’ there.”
“Was he holding a gun?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Was he saying or doing anything to threaten or endanger the defendant?”
“Objection,” Claire said. “Calls for speculation as to Mr. Reed’s state of mind.”
“Sustained,” Judge West said. “Rephrase.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Ortiz said. “Did you hear your son say anything at all to the defendant?”
“Naw.”
“Did you see your son point a gun at the defendant?”
“No.”
“Did you see your son raise a hand or a fist at her?”
“Uh-uh, no, sir.”
“Did you hear him say anything or see him do anything at all from the moment when you heard the defendant say she was going to kill him until she shot your son?”
“Nuthin’, nuthin’ at all.”
“And what was the next thing that happened after the defendant shot your son?”
Odyessy sucked in a breath, dropping her chin to her chest, and then looked up at Ortiz. “I ran to my boy. Blood was pourin’ out of him. I got down on the floor next to him and laid his head in my lap, and I held him and I called his name and then he died.”
Ortiz paused, looking at the photograph of Dwayne’s body on the screen, then at Alex, and finally at the jury.
“Thank you Ms. Shelburne. No further questions.”
Judge West banged his gavel. “We’ll take the noon recess and resume at one thirty.”
Odyessy stepped down from the witness stand. Ortiz cupped her elbow with his hand and walked her toward the hall.
Mason rose and turned toward the back of the courtroom. Blues was standing near the door. Their eyes met and they nodded. Blues waited for Ortiz and Odyessy to pass before slipping out.
“What’s that about?” Alex asked.
“Just due diligence,” Mason said as a short, round-shouldered, pasty-faced man approached them.
“Lou?”
Mason turned toward the man. “You got it?”
“Yeah. Six months’ worth of data. Hope you find what you’re looking for,” he said, handing Mason a flash drive, and left.
“Who was that?” Claire asked.
“Simon Alexander. He does forensic IT investigations. He helped me out with something last night.”
“What?” Claire asked.
“Sorting through the stuff on Gloria Temple’s cell phone.”
“How in the hell did you get that?” Alex asked.
“Yes,” Claire said, hands on her hips, “how did you manage that?”
Mason grinned. “Do any of you really want to know?”
Claire shook her head. “I don’t know which is worse: you losing your license or me still having mine so that I have to give you a job. I’m going to find a quiet place to look over my notes for Odyessy’s cross-examination.”
Mason showed Alex the picture he’d taken of Gloria. “I took this last night. You recognize her?”
Alex shook her head. “Is that Gloria Temple?”
“The one and only.” He handed the flash drive to Alex. “I’ve got some calls to make during the lunch break. Why don’t you have a look at this and see if there’s anything that might help us.”
“I’ll need a laptop.”
“We can use mine,” Kate said. “My hotel is six blocks from here. We can order room service and see what’s on the flash drive.”
Alex couldn’t wait to find out what was on the drive, but she didn’t want to share the moment with Kate Scranton. She didn’t buy Kate’s claim that she could divine the truth from micro facial expressions, but Claire and Mason trusted Kate and would believe whatever Kate told them about her. That’s why she’d avoided spending much time with Kate or talking with her about the case. Now she didn’t have a choice.
“Sounds great,” Alex said.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“You know,” Kate said as she set up her laptop on a table in her hotel suite, “we really haven’t talked much about the case.”
Alex nodded, standing and looking out the window to the south and west, the city disappearing over the horizon. It was either late winter or early spring depending on your point of view. The sky was tossed with patches of blue and gray, the distant trees still brown, a scene that could go either way.
“We’ve both been pretty busy.”
“I’m on your side,” Kate said as she sat in a chair on one side of the small, square table. “You know that, don’t you?”
Alex took the opposite seat, the laptop between them. “Yeah, I know that.”
“Not all my clients do, or if they do, they don’t quite believe it. You know why that is?”
Alex shrugged, resting her arms on the table. “They’re probably afraid that you’ll catch them in a lie.”
“That’s right. And you know what? That happens all the time, because we’re all liars. But here’s what my clients forget. My job isn’t to judge them. My job is to help them get the best possible result. But I can’t do that unless I know everything there is to know.” Kate paused, studying Alex and smiling. “Listen to me giving you the same speech you must have given hundreds of times to your clients.”
“It did sound familiar.”
“Does it work? Do your clients tell you everything?”
Alex chuckled. “Almost never.”
“So what do you do when you think your client is holding something back?”
“The best I can with what I’ve got.”
Kate leaned forward, reaching her hand toward Alex. “Is that what you want me to do for you?”
Alex pulled back, dropping her hands in her lap, deflecting Kate’s question. “I’m sure that’s what you did when you helped pick the jury and I’m sure that’s what you’re doing when you tell us how the jury is reacting to the evidence.”
“That’s only part of my job. I also evaluate the witnesses whether the prosecution calls them or we do.”
“And I’m sure Claire and Lou think you’re doing a great job of that too.”
“Thanks for that, but I’m more concerned about being able to do my job if you take the stand. Both of us need to be ready for that, and I’m not sure we are.”
“Well, if I decide to testify, I promise you, we’ll be ready.”
Kate let out a breath, smiled again, and straightened, tapping the table with her palm. “Good enough. Let’s have a look at that flash drive.”
Simon Alexander had organized the contents of Gloria’s phone into folders for e-mail, text messages, phone
