“No.”
“Did you find Ms. Yamura’s laptop computer?”
“There was no laptop.”
“How hard did you look?”
At this question, Matthew Stone glances at Devlin. “We did a thorough search.”
“Because the prosecutor, who wasn’t supposed to be there, told you to scour the house for the laptop?”
“He didn’t say laptop. He just said to look for any computers. We would have done that anyway,” Matthew adds indignantly.
“Was he upset when you told him you couldn’t find the laptop?”
“Objection.” Devlin is on his feet. “This is nothing more than grandstanding, Your Honor.”
“Sustained. Mr. McFarland, this case is not about Mr. Walker. I instruct you to stop with this line of questioning.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” I glance at Devlin. He’s pissed at me, but there’s something more in his eyes than mere annoyance. I’m hitting a nerve, as I knew I would.
“And in addition to Ms. Yamura’s expensive laptop, her cash and jewelry, is it true that you also didn’t find her iPhone?”
“No, we didn’t. We learned of the calls to your office from subpoenaing the records from her carrier, Verizon.”
I stare at Matthew Stone. He’s looking back at me guilelessly. He’s just made a huge mistake, but he doesn’t know it. The jury was not supposed to hear that calls were made to my office from Yamura’s phone. I know Stone well enough to know that he would never intentionally mention evidence excluded by the court. He’s too straight a shooter. This was a mistake on Devlin’s part. He’d told Tredesco not to mention the calls. Probably had to tell the detective ten times. But he forgot to tell Stone.
But now the jury has learned about the calls, and they don’t know the background. I glance at the panel, and I know what they’re thinking: Calls from the victim’s phone to the defendant’s lawyer? What calls? Why haven’t we heard about them? The jurors appear to be confused. All of them—except for their foreman, Mr. Peter Drummond. I look at him and see that he is looking at me, having inferred the message that Devlin wanted to send all along. That David, in a panic over having killed Jennifer Yamura, used her cell phone to call me, his law-school classmate and chum. In the foreman’s mind, David and I have now been in this thing together from the beginning.
All these thoughts go through my own mind in a split second. When I recover, I see Judge Henry looking down at me from the bench, expecting that I’ll object, ask the court to strike the testimony about the phone calls. But all that would do is highlight the point, so I keep quiet.
I smile at Matthew Stone and plow ahead. “So. Stolen cash, stolen jewelry, stolen computer, stolen phone. And maybe the victim left the door unlocked? Does that pretty much summarize what we’ve just gone over?”
The witness shrugs. “I guess. In part.”
“Nothing surprising to you as a police officer, given that the invasion at Ms. Yamura’s home happened in the midst of a crime spree in her neighborhood.”
Stone admits that he’d heard of the break-ins near Jennifer’s house but says he hadn’t been briefed on the details.
I tell the court I have no more questions for the witness, and Judge Henry turns to Devlin. But Devlin doesn’t even bother to redirect. He doesn’t need to. The damage has been done. The image of Jennifer—wounded, bleeding, and desperate, crawling along her basement floor trying in vain to escape the murderer—is seared into the jurors’ minds. I’m also certain that no one has forgotten about the phone calls placed from Jennifer’s cell phone to David Hanson’s attorney—to me.
Judge Henry calls the lunch break, and I watch the jurors file out of the box and out of the courtroom. For the most part, they keep their eyes on the floor. Except for the foreman, Drummond, who looks directly at the defense table as he exits the box. He holds my eyes for a long time.
After the jury is gone, David is taken away and the courtroom empties. Piper smiles wanly at me, then follows the others out the door. The only ones left other than my team and me are Devlin, Christina Wesley, and John Tredesco, who hovers by the back door. The detective sees me looking at him and slowly stretches his thin, bloodless lips into a predatory smile. I keep my face blank of emotion, then turn away, catching Devlin Walker staring at me. Though not as blatant about it as Tredesco, he’s smiling, too.
Back at the firm for lunch, I spend a few minutes at my desk, then go directly into the conference room. Marcie sits before an untouched salad. I fix myself a sandwich, pick up a bottle of Fiji water, take a seat across the table from her. Marcie stares at me, her eyes flat.
“So,” she says, “tell me about these phone calls.”
I take a swig of water and explain the calls in detail. Jennifer’s first call to the office, placed through Angie, during which she asked me to represent her and we set up a meeting. “The second call went directly to my phone because Angie was at lunch. Yamura sounded panicked and asked to move up our meeting.”
“Why was she panicked?” Marcie asks.
“I don’t know. I never got the chance to ask her.”
“Do you think someone was with her when she called that second time?”
“She didn’t say so.”
“When did she want to meet?”
I pause. “The first time she called, I scheduled a meeting for four o’clock the next day, Friday. She called the second time because she wanted to meet earlier, Friday morning. I checked my calendar. It was clear, so I said okay.”
“And that was all you two talked about?”
“She hung up. I got the impression she didn’t want to discuss any details over the phone.”
Marcie studies me, much like our jury foreman had. Then she turns and leaves without looking back.
I sit by myself for a couple of minutes, take a few bites of my sandwich, and finish the water. Then I pick up my notes, stop in Vaughn’s office, and tell him I’m heading back to court. When I get to the tenth floor of the courthouse, I spot Piper sitting on a long bench by the window. She smiles when she sees me but doesn’t get up, waits for me to reach the bench and sit beside her.
“You never came back to the office for lunch,” I say.
“I’m too nervous to eat,” she says. “It’s been so long. I’d forgotten how tense your trials are.”
“Someone’s freedom is on the line,” I say. “Their whole life, really.”
Piper and I sit quietly for a while. Then I pat her gently on her leg, lean over, and kiss her on the forehead. “Once more into the fray.”