“Your Honor,” Shawn interrupts before the ruling can be administered. “Is counsel seriously trying to say she did not have access to the Facebook feed of her own witness?”
“Overruled. You may answer,” says the judge.
“July 4, 2018.”
“July 4, 2018,” echoes Shawn. “That’s only six weeks before the murder took place. Can you tell me, Mr. Harrison, do you think someone who’s fearful for his life would be laughing and taking a selfie with a friend whom he seriously thinks is going to murder him?”
“But Micah isn’t my friend.”
“Not your friend?”
“Correct.”
“Are you familiar with what a ninth step is, Mr. Harrison?”
“Yes, sir.”
Shawn begins to read an excerpt from a blue book. “According to the literature of most twelve-step programs, step 8 reads ‘Made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all,’ and step 9 reads, ‘Made direct amends to such people, except when to do so would injure them or others.’ So the ninth step is when you make amends to people you think you have harmed. Something someone does in recovery, is it not?”
“I’m not in recovery, but yes, sir, I think that’s what it is.”
“Have you ever had anyone make amends to you, sir?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And would one of those people be Micah Breuer?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember that exchange?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me about it, please?”
Josh squirms in his chair. He knows where this line of questioning is going and had forgotten about the conversation he’d had with Micah six months ago.
“Well, at first, he told me that the way he’d handled mine and Lenny’s affair was wrong.” Josh’s recall is now in Technicolor. “Then he asked if there was anything he could do to make it up to me.”
“Was he emotional at all?”
“Yes, he was crying.”
“Did you feel like he was acting? Remember you’re under oath.”
He takes a moment. “It felt real at the time.”
“And after Micah asked if there was anything he could do to make it up to you, what did you say to him?”
Josh looks in Micah’s direction.
“I said, ‘You can be my friend.’”
“Isn’t it true that since the time of the amends, you’ve become friends with Micah, even shared intimate stories of a similar upbringing, acting mishaps, trips to Fire Island, and so on?”
“Yes, but I still didn’t trust him.”
“We have nothing further for this ex-boyfriend of the deceased,” Shawn says, returning to his chair.
“And why didn’t you trust him?” Astrid stands and asks Josh.
“Because he threatened to kill us!”
“How?”
“By stabbing us.”
“Because he threatened to kill you and Lennox by stabbing you,” Astrid reiterates to the jury, emphasizing the words kill and stabbing. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison.”
Josh leaves the witness box and begins to walk down the center aisle to exit the courtroom.
C h a p t e r 3 5
Lilith McGuire stares at the photo of Josh, a picture from his Facebook feed that she’s printed out. The paper is still warm from the laser printer.
“I can’t believe we missed this picture of the three of them,” she says.
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re trying to glean information from two high-profile murder cases going on at the same time,” Detective Penance answers. “Not to mention the pressure of combing through piles of data from a clearly corrupt company at the heart of both of these murders, and a former ADA bearing down on us with her fat little thumbs.”
Lilith McGuire and Detective Bronson Penance are in the main conference room at the Seventh Precinct police station. They are surrounded by boxes of paperwork, mounds of statements, photos, documentation, and brick, lots of thick, red brick on all four walls.
“The camera,” Lily begins, as she shuffles through a collection of photos. “Remind me, I know the motion to enter the camera into evidence was denied just before trial, but I don’t understand why.”
“Because we can’t prove that it recorded anything.”
“But Officer Palino said it was still warm, so it must’ve been doing something. If we find those recordings from the camera, we will know who did this.”
“You mean we’ll prove that Micah did this,” Detective Penance says, focusing his young protégé on the task at hand.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“I think the key here is this Ghost guy. Wanna hear my theory?” Detective Penance asks.
“Sure.”
“I think Micah planned this. I think he hires this Ghost guy who sells Lennox drugs, then freaks out when the job’s not done when he gets home. The company, having planted the camera in the living room, accidentally records the murder, watches the videos, and disposes of the hard drive it recorded to.”
“Yeah, I get it. Thought about it, actually, then I checked a few key things. First, why would Micah hire someone to kill Lennox in their home with the same knife that he has in their home? Only to take the weapon from the scene? Plus, there’s no missing knife from their set of eight knives, and all the knives are clean.”
“To throw us off.”
“It’s working,” she says, putting down the photo of Josh. She rubs her eyes with both hands and lets out an audible sigh.
“And second?” he asks.
“What?” she replies.
“You said ‘first,’ then talked about the knives. I was just assuming there was a second. Something about the camera maybe?”
“Probably.” She continues to rub her eyes. “Yes, the camera is confusing to me. For the life of me, I don’t understand why it was there.”
“Hey, let’s break for the night,” Detective Penance says, recognizing her exhaustion. “I still think there’s something there, though. We gotta stay vigilant. All eyes are on us to finish this thing. We have to get this right.”
◆
“I thought you said, ‘It won’t go wrong.’”
Elaine Holcomb thrusts herself into Astrid Lerner’s office, slamming the door in the same motion.
“How did you get in here?” Astrid asks, looking through the glass at everyone else in the department, who are all sitting in their cubicles looking at her with blank expressions.
“They know me. You don’t.” Elaine sits down. “If you did, you’d know that
