The Pardon

her time to compose herself before his cross-examination. “Good morning, Miss Paige,” he said in a conversational tone, trying to put her at ease.

Jack listened as Manny tried to rehabilitate her. She explained that she’d spoken purely out of anger on that ugly morning, that she’d never meant a word of it, and that they were now back together. But Jack couldn’t listen. He knew Cindy had told McCue the truth, and nothing could change the truth. The best strategy was to minimize the importance of her testimony, and the longer Manny kept her on the stand, the more important her testimony would seem. Thankfully, Manny didn’t keep her long.

“That’s all the questions I have,” said Manny, dismissing the witness. “Thank you.”

Cindy stepped down and headed for the swinging gate that separated the players from the spectators. As she laid her hand atop the polished mahogany banister, she paused and gave Jack a look that asked for forgiveness.

“We got a problem,” he whispered to Manny.

“It’s only round one,” Manny said, shrugging it off.

“No, you’re missing the point,” Jack said. “It was just me and Cindy in my bedroom that morning she left me. We were alone.”

“So? Why is that a problem?”

“If Cindy and I are the only two people who know what went on in that room, how did McCue know how to ask her all the right questions?”

For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Jack’s eyes shifted from Manny to Wilson McCue, who was seated at the prosecutor’s table across the room. The state attorney looked up from his notepad and returned the glance, as if sensing the weight of Jack’s stare. He was smiling, Jack noticed, albeit just around his eyes. Jack fought a rising tide of anger. He was ready to leap from his chair and drag it out of him if he had to: How did you know, you bastard? How did you know what to ask her?

“Is the State ready to call its next witness?” asked the judge.

Jack was so engrossed he didn’t hear the words. Then it came to him. Of course McCue had an informant. Who else could it be?

“Your Honor,” the prosecutor announced to the hushed courtroom, “the State calls Miss Gina Terisi.”

Chapter 36

The big mahogany doors in the back of the courtroom swung open, and Gina Terisi strode down the center aisle like a model on the runway. Though her dazzling beauty attracted stares, she didn’t have her usual seductive air. Her makeup was understated. Her navy-blue suit and peach silk blouse were stylish but conservative.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but. .”

Please, God, Jack prayed as the oath was administered. The truth was bad enough, but “the whole truth”? He wasn’t sure he-or his relationship with Cindy-could survive it. “Please state your name,” the prosecutor began.

Jack watched carefully as she testified, searching for some sign that she resented McCue’s questions. A downturned lip, clenched teeth, lowered eyes. But, to his consternation, she seemed articulate, cooperative, willing.

“Do you know the defendant?” McCue asked.

“Yes, I do.” Jack listened impassively to the interrogation, trying not to panic as Gina told the jury how she’d met Jack and how long she’d known him.

“Now, Miss Terisi,” the prosecutor shifted gears, “I’d like to turn to the night Eddy Goss was murdered. Did you see Mr. Swyteck on the night of August first?”

“Yes, I did,” she answered. And from that point forward her testimony moved from a wide-angle view to a punishing close-up. Wilson McCue was no longer eliciting bits of background generalities; he had Gina poring over every detail about the night Jack showed up at her door. He wanted specifics, from how Jack looked and what he was wearing, to what he said and how he said it Jack’s fear that he was being stalked by Goss, and his outrage when he discovered that an intruder had broken into Gina’s townhouse received particular attention. Reporters in the gallery scribbled down every word as Gina’s damning story unfolded and Jack’s motive to kill Eddy Goss became clear. Strangely-very strangely, Jack thought-Gina didn’t mention that Jack had had a gun in his possession.

By late afternoon, though, the damage to his defense was clear. The State had plugged the gaping hole in its case: The defendant’s motive to kill Eddy Goss had been the weakest part of the prosecution’s case, and Gina’s testimony had transformed it into the strongest. Jack tried to show no reaction, but he wondered whether things would get worse. Though Gina had been on the witness stand nearly four hours, she had yet to breathe a word of their “indiscretion.” With Cindy sitting right behind him, he could only hope she never would.

“Now, Ms. Terisi,” McCue continued, “did you call the police after all this happened?”

“No,” she replied, “I didn’t.”

“I see,” said the prosecutor as he stroked his chin. “That may seem a little odd to some of our jurors, Miss Terisi. After someone broke into your house, you say you didn’t call the police. Can you tell us why you didn’t call the police?”

Gina glanced at Cindy, then looked back at the prosecutor. “I really don’t have an explanation.”

McCue did a double take. He hadn’t expected that answer. Indeed, it was far different from the answer Gina had given him several times before, when they’d rehearsed her testimony. “Are you saying you don’t remember?” he asked politely. “Because I can refresh your recollection if-”

“I’m saying I don’t have an explanation,” she said firmly.

McCue narrowed his eyes and stepped out from behind the podium. If he was going to have to impeach his own witness, he needed to let her feel his presence. “Miss Terisi,” he said, his tone decidedly less friendly, “when I interviewed you in my office, you told me that Mr. Swyteck had insisted that you not call the police. Isn’t that correct?”

Gina shifted nervously in her chair, but she remained firm. “Yes. I said that. But I wasn’t telling you the truth when I said it was Jack’s idea. I was the one who insisted on not calling the police. Not him.”

Wilson McCue stood in silence. He’d hoped to convince the jury that Jack had prevented Gina from calling the police because he wanted to take care of the problem himself-that Jack had intended to murder Goss. Gina’s sudden switch had thrown him a curve. McCue didn’t know the reason for the change. But he had to make at least one attempt to put his witness back on course.

“It’s okay, Miss Terisi,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “I understand that Mr. Swyteck is the boyfriend of your best friend. And I can understand how you might be reluctant to hurt her and her boyfriend. But come on, now, level with us. You have to admit that it’s a little hard to believe that you were the one who didn’t want to call the police after some stranger had just broken into your apartment.”

Manny rose from his chair. “Is that a question?” he asked sarcastically.

“Objection sustained.”

“My question is this,” the prosecutor said to his witness. “Did you want to call the police, or didn’t you?”

Gina swallowed hard. “Of course I wanted to.”

McCue felt a rush of satisfaction. It had taken a little maneuvering, but he’d placed his witness right back on track. Or so he thought “Then tell us, please: Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I wouldn’t let myself.”

“Excuse me?” Again he’d received an unexpected answer.

“I refused to call the police because-” Gina stopped herself. She looked away and wrung her hands in her lap. “I didn’t call,” she said, lowering her head in shame, “because I didn’t want to have to tell the police that Jack and I had slept together.”

The prosecutor’s mouth fell open, and a murmur of disbelief filled the courtroom. Reporters feverishly flagged their notes with stars and arrows. Jack felt like a man impaled, but he couldn’t allow himself the slightest reaction. He didn’t dare look behind him, knowing that if he did, he’d lose all self-control.