Kate turned away from the witness, and watched the jury as she walked back to her seat. Some were shaking their heads at Baumann, others were either not convinced by Kate, or not convinced by Baumann – they seemed almost indifferent. Hard to tell how well this cross-examination had gone, but at least she had a few converts on the jury. Her cross was damage limitation – and no more. On that basis, she counted it successful.
Reluctant to let two expert witnesses be annihilated, Dreyer spent ten minutes trying to patch up Baumann’s testimony, but enough damage had been done. That same handful of jurors seemed to look at him with suspicion.
That was enough.
As Baumann left the witness stand, he mouthed the word, ‘Bitch,’ in Kate’s direction. At first she was shocked, then she focused on Baumann’s face. He’d mouthed something else as he passed her table.
He wasn’t looking at Kate when he said this. Nor Bloch.
No, this was directed at Alexandra. She couldn’t look at Baumann and avoided his gaze. Alexandra missed him mouthing, ‘Murdering bitch.’
Kate thought about complaining, highlighting this to the judge and asking him to discipline Baumann. But then, she didn’t want the jury to hear what Baumann had called Alexandra.
Maybe Baumann had bought his own bullshit science, thought Kate.
Then she had another thought.
What if Baumann was right?
FORTY-FOUR
EDDIE
Judge Stone allowed Dreyer to call one last witness this afternoon, with Kate having demolished the bite-mark expert in double-quick time. I thought Kate had enough to throw shade on the bald Texan – more shade than a ten-gallon hat.
While Dreyer consulted with his team, I took my time observing the jury. Some of them were still reeling from Baumann’s evidence. I’d say that seven looked downright confused. The remaining five unconvinced by Dreyer’s bite guy. Probably Dreyer had asked half a dozen bite-mark experts to look at the marks on the victim, and most of the more reputable ones had probably said no when they found out the body had been moved.
There’s always one expert who will sign his name to any kind of opinion-based report as long as they’re getting paid. Forensic science in the US legal system was driven by money, and the desire for convictions more than science. Money talks.
‘I have one final witness for the day,’ said Dreyer. ‘We had intended to call Hal Cohen, a longtime friend and colleague of the victim. Sadly, Mr. Cohen was fatally stabbed yesterday on his way to my office. The police manhunt continues for the perpetrator. The police believe that this may have been an attempted robbery that went wrong, or there may have been other motives in play.’
‘Have the defendants been questioned by police?’ asked the judge.
‘No,’ said Dreyer. ‘This trial is too important for any potential interruption. I’m sure the NYPD will question the defendants to establish their whereabouts when this trial is completed.’
During a trial, your senses are all on high alert. You’re attuned to reading body language, both from the witness and the jury. Listening to, and evaluating, every word spoken. It’s like being on a high wire for seven hours, and one moment’s loss of concentration sends your client plummeting to the bottom of a ravine. When Dreyer answered that question, I sensed a change in the room. Something happened.
Sofia.
Her hands were clasped together under the table. She had drawn her fingers together, her hands pressed so tightly that her arms shook with the effort. Her face had a faraway expression, tears in her eyes and she rocked back and forth ever so slightly. It was like she was waiting for an executioner.
I glanced over and saw Alexandra was jittering up and down in her seat, her left leg bouncing with nerves.
Both of them had known Hal Cohen. I’d told Sofia about Cohen’s death that morning. She had looked sad and confused. Shocked, maybe. I wondered how Alexandra had taken the news. Right now, at the mention of his name, one of them should have been saddened, and one of them trying to hide the fact that they killed him.
‘Your Honor,’ said Dreyer, ‘as I was hoping to call Mr. Cohen, I will have to call another witness earlier than anticipated. I need some time.’
‘How long do you need?’ asked Judge Stone.
‘An hour at the most.’
‘Recess for one hour,’ said Judge Stone. The court clerk called, ‘All rise,’ Harry skooched down in his seat, and I leaned back in the chair and folded my arms. Harry and I had already made our point. Now it was a matter of principle.
Glancing over, I saw Kate looking worriedly at me.
I’d rarely had a trial like this. I had no idea what witness Dreyer had in his pocket.
And no clue what would happen next.
Stone would let Dreyer get away with anything. Any kind of ambush. It didn’t matter. Stone wanted a conviction, just as much as Dreyer.
We took Sofia to a quiet room, got her settled down. The trial, although it was proceeding quickly, was taking its toll. The faint lines around Sofia’s eyes had deepened and stretched, and now dark circles grew beneath them. Her fingers trembled, and her voice was both breathy and erratic in pitch. Like something inside her was shaking her every now and then.
‘I think we’re about even with Alexandra at the moment. I don’t know what the prosecutor has in the pipeline, but whatever it is we’ll deal with it. You’re doing great. You’re holding up. I just need to you to keep things straight for another day or two. Then it’ll all be over,’ I said.
She nodded, and said, ‘I don’t know how much more I can take. Being in the same room as her. Jesus, it brings back a lot of bad memories. Things I haven’t thought about in a long time. And what she did to Dad …’
Harry put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed. She put her palm on top of Harry’s hand, and then rested her cheek against it. Her eyes closed on a reservoir of tears, and set them running. They dripped, one by one, onto Harry’s fingers.
‘It’s gonna be okay,’ said Harry.
We sat in silence as she gathered herself. In those quiet moments, the river of pain I was holding back threatened to burst the dam. I could flip the switch, but the grief and the guilt were always there. A pressure, at the bottom of my skull. I knew when the court day finished, the dam would open sometime tonight. Another night not sleeping. Another night punching the walls. I took a breath, forced the dam closed. I would deal with it later.
‘Who killed Hal Cohen? Could it have been Alexandra?’ she asked.
‘We don’t know,’ I said.
We stayed in the room until one of Dreyer’s assistant DAs found us and knocked on the door.
‘Mr. Dreyer would like to see you,’ said the assistant.
Sofia insisted she was okay, and it took some persuading for Harry to leave her, but eventually he relented and both of us made our way down the corridor to where Dreyer waited on a bench set against the painted yellow wall. The paint peeled away from a seam in the wall and flecks had settled on one shoulder of Dreyer’s immaculate suit, but he hadn’t noticed yet.
I sat down beside him. Harry stood, folded his arms.
‘If you asked the judge to strip naked and dance the light fantastic with you in the middle of the courtroom, he’d do it,’ I said.
A dry, mirthless smile spread over Dreyer’s face, revealing small white teeth.