“No.” Emily was firm. She pulled away from him and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. She took a deep breath and collected herself. “We’ll stay until the judge calls the hearing.”
So they waited. A half hour, then an hour. All the while they replayed what they’d heard. Malik Montgomery now admitted to seeing their daughter moments before she was murdered. A belated truth or a desperate lie? It had to be a lie. Why else would he have waited to identify an alternative suspect? Abby’s phone was found in his home. He’d lied about being at the scene. And he’d just lied under oath about being read his Miranda warning and his statements to Pacini.
But they couldn’t shake the feeling that something didn’t fit. Hellstrom was right. This was a smart kid. Why would he keep the phone after going through the trouble to wipe it clean? Why would he erase the surveillance footage except for the images showing him entering the building? And why kill Abby over the breakup of a relationship that everyone agreed wasn’t serious? Sean had another surging thought. Malik’s story about seeing Abby with another man in the library was consistent with two facts: First, Abby was seeing someone, a mystery man. Second, the draft e-mail arranged a rendezvous at the Supreme Court library the night she was murdered.
Cecilia popped her head in. “The judge will be back on the bench in five.”
Sean and Emily stood.
Cecilia looked conflicted. “I have a client meeting this afternoon and was gonna leave, but I can stay if you—”
“No, you should go,” Sean said. “We’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
Sean took Emily by the hand. They laced fingers and both nodded.
“We’ll be fine,” Sean said. Truth be told, although Sean appreciated her support, he was happy to see Cecilia go. She was loud in the courtroom, whispering and sighing. And that was nothing compared to the scoffs or guffaws she’d made when Hellstrom said something she didn’t like, catching the hard glare of the judge and even Patti Fallon.
Sean and Emily returned to the stiff wooden pews in Courtroom 4. Malik Montgomery came in next, accompanied by his father. Malik hugged his dad and shuffled through the swinging door. Malik’s father gave Sean a quick glance and then looked away before returning to his front-row spot on the other side of the gallery. So many wounded parents. Emily and Sean. John Chadwick’s mother. He’d heard that even Blake Hellstrom, Malik’s lawyer, had lost a child. And now Malik’s dad.
The room filled again, and Fallon and Hellstrom appeared from the door behind the bench. School children returning from the principal’s office. Hellstrom in particular lacked his usual rumpled swagger.
The loud chime came again from the ceiling and all stood. Judge Chin took her seat and glowered at the two lawyers before her.
“Counsel, any more questions for your witness?” the judge said to Hellstrom. It was more of an accusation than a question.
“No, Your Honor. Nothing further.”
Malik, who had returned to the witness chair, gave a confused look to his lawyer. Judge Chin’s eyes locked on Fallon.
Fallon approached the witness box. Before Fallon began, the judge cautioned, “Let’s make it quick.”
Fallon nodded, lowering her eyes to a yellow legal pad. “When Mr. Serrat showed up at your door that night and told you Abby was missing, you just testified, and I quote, you ‘wanted to help,’ correct?”
“That’s right.”
“And you said—and I’m quoting you here—‘you had nothing to hide’ in your home, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“So it would have been natural, in those circumstances, to let Mr. Serrat and Mr. Pacini look around your home, correct?”
As Malik contemplated how to respond, Fallon added, “You would have wanted to help, including a search of your home. After all, you had nothing to hide.” It was a good question, one that seemed to have only one reasonable answer. One that could result in a government victory on the motion because if Malik had consented to the search there was no Fourth Amendment violation.
Malik raised his shoulders into a tiny shrug.
“And you have to agree—since you say you wanted to help and had nothing to hide—that all the circumstances indicate you would have consented if asked, isn’t that right?”
“Ob-jec-tion,” Hellstrom said. He leaned back casually in his chair. “She’s asking him to speculate.”
Judge Chin frowned again. “Move on, counsel.”
Fallon flipped the page on her legal pad and asked, “On the Miranda warning, you told Frank Pacini that you didn’t need the warning like you were some dumb black kid, isn’t that true?”
“Absolutely not. That’s not something I would say.”
“Let me ask you this. You say you wanted to help and had nothing to hide, so wouldn’t you have voluntarily talked to Frank Pacini and Mr. Serrat if you’d been given the full Miranda warning?”
Malik thought. He touched his chin. “I suppose.”
Fallon had a satisfied look. She had what she needed. “Let’s talk about the video from the library.”