Blood Defense (26 page)

I pointed out the fact that since Dale had been dating Chloe, his prints were bound to be all over that apartment. And of course his DNA was under her nails, on her skin. They were a couple and they were fighting. Dale wasn’t proud of that, but he’d never denied it.

“And the prosecutor somehow forgot to mention the fact that they found fingerprints and hairs in the apartment that couldn’t have come from Dale. But that’s key evidence. It shows someone else was there. And when all the evidence is in, you’ll see that this person—not Dale—was the one who committed these murders.”

I moved on to hammer the point about motive that’d been so popular on the Internet. “Now here’s one of the assumptions the prosecutor made. He wants you to
assume
that a veteran detective suddenly flipped out and killed two women just because a woman he’d been seeing for only two months wanted to break up with him.

“But if a breakup was so devastating to Dale Pearson, then how come he has two ex-wives who’re alive and well? The prosecution assumed that had to be his motive, but the assumption doesn’t make sense. Not only is it illogical, I’m going to prove it’s not true. The truth is, Dale knew their relationship was over, and he was more than good with it. He was ready to move on.”

I’d have to put Dale on the stand to prove that—something I never like to do. But I’d known from the start I’d have to do it in this case. No juror would forgive a cop who was afraid to take the stand.

“Here’s the next assumption the prosecutor wants you to make. He said a burglar couldn’t have done this. But how does he know that? He doesn’t know all the burglars in Los Angeles. Just because a criminal breaks in to steal, that doesn’t mean he won’t kill, too. It’s not like he’s some kind of specialist.”

I got a few small smiles out of that one.

“We’ve all heard of cases where burglars kill homeowners who walk in on them. And there’s nothing about this crime scene that shows the killer wasn’t a burglar. Again, the prosecutor wants you to just
assume
that a burglar didn’t do it. Next assumption: that Paige was ‘collateral damage.’ In fact, she wasn’t. I’m going to prove to you that she was the target. And Dale had no motive whatsoever to kill Paige. No one, not even the prosecutor, thinks Dale had a reason to kill her.”

I stepped closer to the jury box for my final salvo. “So the evidence will
not
show that Dale Pearson is guilty. What the evidence will show is that the People’s case has assumptions where there should be evidence, gaps where there should be proof, and illogic where there should be reason. So the next time
I
talk to you, I’ll be telling you that the prosecution has failed to carry its burden. I’ll be telling you that the evidence has shown Dale Pearson is
not
guilty. And I’ll be asking you to do the right thing and acquit him.”

I looked at each of the jurors. There were a few skeptical faces, but a few seemed intrigued.

I could see I wouldn’t be able to convince all of them. But I never thought I’d be able to pull off an acquittal. Not with this evidence. No, the only real question was, did I have my holdout? I only needed one. As I scanned their faces, I thought I spotted two or three possibles.

I went back to my seat. Only time would tell.

FORTY-SEVEN

W
e recessed for the day,
and I stood as the jurors left the courtroom. It’s meant to look like a sign of respect, but it’s mainly an excuse to watch them. When they were gone, I huddled with my team at counsel table.

Dale had a proud smile on his face. “After that prosecutor’s opening, I didn’t know what you were going to say. But you really brought it back.” He glanced around the courtroom, then whispered, “But how are you going to prove Paige was the target?”

An excellent question. Alex and Michelle looked at me expectantly. “I don’t have all the answers yet.” Or any, actually. “But I will. Right now, I need to get going.”

I had to get out and talk to the press, give them a quietly-confident-but-not-arrogant statement. I patted him on the arm. “I’ll get in earlier tomorrow so we can talk. Try to get some rest.”

He nodded. “You, too.”

I stood up. “Guys, want a ride to your cars?”

Michelle made a face. “And climb through that mob out there with you? No, thanks.”

“That’s no mob—those are my peeps, my adoring public—”

“Many of whom, according to Twitter, think you’re a sleaz—”

“I’ll win them over.”

Michelle rolled her eyes.

The bailiff took Dale back into lockup, and I herded Alex and Michelle away from the spectators still lingering in the gallery. “Any word on our burglar boy and the phone?”

Michelle shook her head. “I left him a message telling him to call and tell me when he planned to come by. Nothing.”

I looked at Alex, but he shook his head, too. “How about if I go to his house? If he doesn’t pony up with the phone, I’ll just take it.”

And he could. Alex was slim, but he was almost six feet of lean muscle. Still, I didn’t like the idea of him getting into it with Scott. “The jerk might not be alone, and what if he has a gun? Just tell him I’ll walk away from his case.”

Alex nodded.

I packed up and we walked out to the hallway. A small knot of reporters was near the elevators. I spotted Trevor, Edie, Brittany, and Kendall in the crowd. Zack had probably just finished giving his quietly-confident-but-not-arrogant statement.

I smiled at the crowd as I walked Michelle and Alex to the elevators. I turned to Alex. “I’ll be going straight back to the office, so if anything breaks, you can reach me there.”

Their elevator arrived. As they stepped inside, a voice behind me said, “Keeping long hours now, huh?”

I turned and saw it was Trevor. I sighed. “I’ll probably be pulling all-nighters for the duration now.”

When I got outside, there was a batch of reporters with cameras, so I made sure to keep a pleasant smile on my face that I hoped exuded confidence. Edie was setting up on the front steps. My town car was at the curb right behind her. If I was going to squeeze her for a photo op with her husband, now was the time. And with a jury pool barely old enough to vote, I needed the help more than ever. I walked over and she looked up and smiled. “Hey, Sam. Got a statement for me? Or better yet, a new lead?”

“I might in the next day or so.” If not, I’d make something up. “Does your husband want to sit in on the trial?”

She paused, then shrugged. “Maybe. Can you get him in?”

Seats were prized commodities. Members of the public had lined up for passes at six this morning. “I think so. And I’d be glad to chat with him.”

Edie gave me a knowing smile. “And maybe take a photo together? Yeah, I saw a lot of young faces in that jury pool.”

A photo with the man trying to get cheaper tuition for those young faces couldn’t hurt. “The free publicity wouldn’t be bad for him, either. Kind of a win-win, don’t you think?”

Edie gave a little laugh. “I’ll see what he says.”

I gave her a quick statement and headed for the town car. I wanted to relax, maybe even take a quick nap, but I couldn’t stop the wheels from turning. I mentally reviewed my opening statement. I’d done my best to stitch together what little fragments of evidence I had into a quilt that looked like reasonable doubt—but I knew it wouldn’t hold up. If something didn’t break my way soon, I’d be standing next to Dale listening to the judge put him away for life.

Michelle was at the office when I got back. Alex had dropped her off and headed out to Scott’s place—a small duplex on the east side of Hollywood. Zack told me he was going to start with the neighbors tomorrow. Janet and Nikki were two-hundred-pound boulders; they couldn’t be pushed around. All I could do was use them to point out possibilities, like: Isn’t it possible Dale was just looking for the burglar when he was driving around the neighborhood? And isn’t it possible someone else came to the apartment that night?

And that got me thinking about my last conversation with Scott. I knew he’d been lying when he told me why he’d chosen to burglarize Chloe’s apartment. I thought I’d figured out the truth. I stood up and stretched, then saw that it was almost ten o’clock—and heard Michelle still typing at her desk.

I walked out and put my hands on my hips. “Michy, what are you doing here?”

She stopped and stared at me. “Getting a facial. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“No word from Alex?” She shook her head. “Remember I was wondering why Scott chose Chloe’s apartment to break into?”

“Yeah, what’d he tell you?”

“That he chose her apartment because he knew she was famous and figured she’d have good stuff. I knew he was lying at the time, but I let it go. Then it occurred to me. He doesn’t live that far from their apartment. He’s a dealer, and so is Chas Gorman—the guy who lives a few doors down from Chloe and Paige. It’s just a hunch, and it might be a coincidence. Maybe Chas and Scott don’t know each other. But if they did, it’d explain how Scott happened to target the girls’ apartment.”

“Makes more sense than Scott’s story, that’s for sure.” Michelle’s brow furrowed. “You think Chas told him to rip them off?”

“No, he liked the girls. And he really liked Paige. I think it was all Scott’s idea. He either saw Chloe at the building, or maybe Chas told him she lived there.”

Alex finally came back. “I knocked, I waited, I knocked again and waited some more. No answer.”

Damn it. “Does it look like he split?”

“I couldn’t tell. It felt empty, though.”

I was good and pissed. “That friggin’ asshole.”

Alex held up a hand. “Before we make any moves, let me have another day or so.”

“I’ll give you two days. If we don’t have that phone by then, I’m getting off the case. But I do have an idea of where you might want to look for him.” I told him about my Chas Gorman theory.

Alex smiled. “My stoner buddy. I miss him. And I bet you’re right.” He shook his head. “Small world. Want me to go out and see him now?”

“It’s after ten. Take the rest of the night off. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

The truth was, tomorrow was soon enough because it was probably already too late.

FORTY-EIGHT

I
’d thought—
hoped
was a better
word, I guess—that I wouldn’t have the nightmare. I was bone tired and the past two nights had been peaceful. But it came back with a vengeance. This time when his hands clamped around my arms, I felt a hot laser beam drilling into my stomach. When I woke up—at five a.m.—I was clutching my belly. I didn’t even want to try for any more sleep and give that dream a chance to come back.

But on the upside, it gave me time to pound a lot of coffee, so I was fully operational with all systems go by the time Xander picked me up at seven thirty. Nikki—the Pussycat Doll of the neighboring building (I could just picture her singing, ‘Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?’)—and Janet Rader were scheduled for the morning session. I ran into them just outside the snack bar across the hall from the courtroom.

Nikki was ready for her close-up—false eyelashes, plunging neckline, and all. This was her chance for major-league camera time, and she wasn’t about to waste a second of it. When she saw me walking up the aisle, she approached me with a nervous look. “Where do they have the camera?”

It was tempting to lie and watch her pose for the wrong angle, but I decided to give her a break. “It’s in the wall above the jury box.”

You’d think she’d be grateful, but she just nodded and turned away. I should’ve gone with my first impulse and lied. I headed into the courtroom and knocked on the door of the holding tank. The bailiff let me in and warned me, “You’ve got five minutes.”

Dale looked a little better today. His eyes weren’t so red. “I see you managed to get some sleep. Nice tie.”

He nodded and looked down as he straightened it. “Thanks. My next-door cellie picked it out.”

“The juicehead? Really?”

“Yeah, he’s got surprisingly good taste.” Dale smiled. “Kidding. What’s on today?”

“Nikki, Janet, and then some crime-scene cops and techs.”

“Have you heard back from the stuntman yet . . . what’s his name—”

“Storm Cooper.” Dale nodded. “No, we haven’t. He’s got a website, but it doesn’t look like he ever updates it.”

“And he’s not with an agency?”

“Not anymore. According to our research, he fired his last agent a couple of years ago. I guess he’s doing okay on his own.”

“It’s weird that the IO didn’t track him down.”

“Kind of. But Wayne Little isn’t exactly a fireball. And from what I’ve heard, Storm was kind of a fringe player in Paige’s life.”

The bailiff tapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s move. The judge’s about to come out.”

I nodded and whispered to Dale, “Remember, no laughing, no smiling, no frowning.”

Juries always watch defendants for their reactions. Laughing is never okay. No innocent man on trial for murder laughs. At anything. And unless someone tells a riotous knee-slapper, smiling’s off the table, too. Frowns make them look—you know, like a murderer.

I noticed that Zack had his main man, Detective Wayne Little, with him today. I’d wondered more than once if he was the one who’d leaked the rape charge. He struck me as the lazy but ambitious type who’d pull a stunt like that. But he had a lot to lose if he got caught. Hard to imagine he’d think it was worth that risk.

The gallery was so packed I didn’t see two inches between the bodies. I noticed Edie and Brittany weren’t there. They were probably still at Chloe’s apartment building doing standups. I’d seen Edie on the morning news before I left for court. She’d been gesturing to the apartment building behind her and speaking in tragic tones about the first day of testimony.

The air in the courtroom crackled with energy, and the voices of reporters and spectators created a dull but rising roar. It should’ve come to a grinding halt when the bailiff announced the judge. But instead, the roar only lowered to a loud hum.

Judge Traynor stomped up the stairs to the bench and stood glaring at the crowd, looking like Moses on the Mount. He thundered, “You will be silent or you will be banned from this courtroom.”

All voices stopped abruptly. Then one titter leaked out. The judge zeroed in on the source and pointed to a young guy in a brown bomber jacket. “You. Leave my courtroom now. And don’t come back.”

I could see the furious red spread across the young guy’s face as he stood up and sidestepped out of his row. The courtroom was silent as a tomb. The only sound was the chafing of his jeans and then the squeak of his sneakers as he moved down the aisle. When the door closed behind him, the judge sat down and scanned the gallery. “I want you all to make note of this silence. This is the way it will be from now on—whether I’m on the bench or at sidebar.” He looked at Zack. “Call your first witness.”

That episode had a chastening effect on everyone. Like a bunch of third-graders after the class cutup gets sent to the principal’s office, everyone sat up and looked straight ahead. You could practically see the haloes over their heads.

Zack did the typical prosecutorial trick of calling a family member to pull on the jurors’ heartstrings. And Chloe’s little sister, Kaitlyn, was the perfect one to do it. She was a sweet, somewhat paler version of Chloe. She testified to her phone conversation with Chloe the night of the murders.

I could’ve objected when Zack asked her if Chloe said she was going to break up with Dale during that phone call, but I let it go. I knew it’d come in when Janet Rader testified. And Zack returned the favor by not objecting when I got Kaitlyn to say that the jewelry stolen in the burglary—a gift from an unknown admirer—belonged to Paige.

Next up was Nikki, who acted like a
slightly
less slutty version of herself, though when the judge told her not to answer until he ruled on the lawyers’ objections, she looked up at him and batted her eyelashes, Marilyn Monroe–style. Still, I got her to admit Dale might’ve been looking for the burglar when he was driving around, and she cut back a little on her “creepy” description of him.

When we broke for lunch, I called Michelle at the office. “Have we heard from Alex?”

“Yes. He went to the apartment building and talked to Chas Gorman this morning. You were right. Scott was a friend of his, but he swore he didn’t know where Scott was hiding out.”

“Where’s Alex now?”

“Staking out Scott’s place. We tried to find an address for his brother and sister, but the ones listed in Scott’s last probation report are no good.”

This sucked. I had a plan, but it was drastic—and risky. It might lose me any chance of ever getting my hands on that phone. I decided to hold off for now and told Michelle I’d call when I got out of court.

Zack put Janet Rader on the stand. I tried like crazy to get her to admit someone could’ve come to the apartment after Dale left, but she refused to budge. My only hope was that someone on the jury would be skeptical of her absolute certainty.

The rest of the day held no surprises. Crime-scene testimony is always a combination of boring and horrifying. But since none of today’s witnesses were there to talk about test results, there were no
fireworks.

When we broke for the day, I told Dale I had to get moving.

“Sure, okay. How do you think we’re doing?”

“Pretty much as expected. It’s way too soon to get a grip on what the jury’s thinking. For now, just try to get some rest, okay?”

Dale nodded and I stood up to go. “Samantha? I just wanted to tell you again that I’m sorry I lost it like that when you told me about Sebastian—”

I sat back down and looked around. “Careful.” We couldn’t talk about it at Twin Towers in case they decided to file charges against him. But it wasn’t that much safer here.

Dale scanned the area behind me then whispered, “And I don’t want you to think that’s how I got with Chloe. I was mad at her, but not like that. I don’t know what made me hit her. I’d never done that before. Maybe it was because I was a little drunk. But . . . anyway, that’s what I’ve been wanting to say. I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry in my life. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

I looked into his eyes. I didn’t know whether to believe him about Chloe—or whether he’d ever been that angry before. But I knew his fury had been genuine. “It’s okay. I . . . I kind of appreciated it in a way.”

The bailiff put his hand on Dale’s shoulder. “Time to go.”

I stood up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I wanted to skip the circus act with the press. I had a lot of work to do to get ready for the witnesses tomorrow, and I was anxious to see if Alex had found Scott. But I didn’t dare piss off the reporters—or miss a chance to counter whatever Zack had been saying.

I slapped on a smile and got through it as fast as I could, then called Michelle from the car. “And?”

“Nothing. Alex doesn’t think he’s been home since he got released OR. There’re some fliers and throwaways on the doorstep.”

“Where’s Alex now?”

“Still staking out the place. What do you want him to do?”

I stared out the window at the passing cars on the freeway. “Good question.”