“Why do it, then?”
Xander paused, looking up at her for a moment and then straight at the wall in front of him. “Honestly, I can’t even remember anymore. I think I thought that if I helped him, if I proved myself that much better than him, then I could get past this. That life would become something different than... this,” he paused, then turned to her. “What’s got you so convinced he’s innocent?”
“Gut, mostly,” she admitted, but opened up the briefcase anyway and handed him the folder. “But there was some stuff that bugged me while I was researching the case. I got all I could so I’d be prepared if the defense brought it up...”
“But now we are the defense,” he finished.
She looked at him, smiling warmly and honestly. “Yes, we are.”
He grinned at her, sighing as he felt himself get into the conversation. He took a picture from the briefcase that had been blown up from a coroner report so that a stab wound took over the entire picture. “What am I looking at?”
“Knife work,” she said simply. “It’s not exact, but it can be like a fingerprint for a killer if you know what to look for. Just like you can tell a lot about a person from how their handwriting looks... you can tell a lot about a person from how they use a blade, too.”
“You’re a sick lady,” he stated playfully.
“The victims from a month ago and the ones from this week have the same pattern of wound,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “They’re angry, quick and rapid, repeating over and over again... eager. Intense.”
“And?”
“Today in the courtroom when Genblade was coming at you with that piece of wood, it was different. No matter how angry he got, his slices were all planned and perfect. The strokes were calm and effortless... happy even.”
“Yeah,” Xander said, touching his leg where Genblade had stabbed him. “I’m sure that’s the word I’d use to describe it.”
“At no point did he lose control of his attack. Ever. It was like the weapon was an extension of his body, even if it was just a hunk of wood.”
Xander frowned, looking at the pictures and then thinking about today. “So the killer from now is the same killer from a few weeks ago?”
“Definitely.”
He frowned, looking down at the floor again.
“Something wrong?” Megan asked, her face concerned when she saw the look on his.
“No, it’s... it’s nothing. Nothing at all. Let’s get to work.”
“We start in a few hours,” she reminded him as she started sifting down through the rest of her papers. “We’ve haven’t got much time to prepare. Believe me, we’re up against the best.”
“All rise,” the bailiff said, loud and clear, his voice echoing throughout the courtroom.
The judge entered from the side as the bailiff continued, then stated to the court: “You may sit.” She eyed the room, and found no trace of Adam Genblade. She breathed a small sigh of relief. She also noticed, raising a hairy eyebrow, that Megan Greene had switched sides and that the D.A., Tony Jones, was now the accuser. She turned to Megan. “Despite yesterday’s... events... the two of you have decided to continue with this... defense. I’m not even going to pretend that I understand why. We’ll hear witness statements now.”
Xander leaned forward into Megan’s ear. “Why aren’t we doing statements?”
Megan twitched him away, putting on a fake smile as she rose from her chair. “The defense calls Harry Ford to the stand.”
Both the judge and Tony raised an eyebrow at this.
Harry got up from the gallery and made his way up to the stand, sweating bullets even though it was relatively cool in the courtroom.
The bailiff walked over to him. “Raise your right hand and put your left on your heart, please.”
Harry did so, gulping hard.
“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?”
“I – I do,” Harry said nervously. He sat down quickly, almost falling off the chair and then righting himself, folding his arms on his lap.
Megan rose from her chair, took a sip of her water, and then approached Harry. She smiled warmly at him. “Mr. Ford,” she began, trying to sound as kind as possible, “where do you currently work?”
“I’m the chief coroner at the Coral Beach Morgue.”
“And your duties as such?”
“I perform or oversee every autopsy for the town.”
“Then you’ve had a busy month.”
“Yes.”
She smiled. “Do you know what the Holy Trinity is, Mr. Ford?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. I help out at my church every Sunday.”
“No, no,” she corrected, raising a hand. “I meant in criminal law. The Holy Trinity in criminal law.”
“Objection,” came Tony’s voice, before Harry could answer. “Relevance, Your Honour?”
“I’m getting to it, Your Honour,” Megan assured her, casting her gaze up towards the bench.
Frowning, the Judge nodded.
“No,” Harry said finally. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s basically the three things we use to see if there’s enough evidence to try someone for a crime. We need the weapon, the motivation and the opportunity. Now we knew Genblade had the opportunity to commit these murders, but did the Sheriff’s office ever have you check a weapon?”
“No.”
“Ever ask you about knife patterns?”
“No.”
Megan turned back toward her desk, scooping up the enlarged photos on the knife wounds. One was marked clearly; the other was not. “Can you tell me what these are, Dr. Ford?”
He studied them carefully, adjusting his glasses as he did. “They appear to be autopsy photographs.”
“Taken by you?”
“No, no. More than
