Eyes of a Child (65 page)

But Joseph Duarte, Paget saw, was frowning at Salinas. ‘Let's move on,' Lerner snapped. ‘Objection sustained. And underlined.'

Salinas turned to Carlo. ‘Did there come a time,' he asked in an even voice, ‘that Mr Arias filed papers charging you with molesting Elena?'

‘Yes.' Carlo seemed to have gained strength from Caroline. ‘He left a copy on my dad's doorstep. So we wouldn't miss it.'

‘Did you discuss this with your father?'

‘Yes. Dad said we should stand up to him.'

Salinas gave a first skeptical smile. ‘But how did
you
feel? You were the one who would have to go to court.'

‘How did
I
feel?' Carlo's eyes froze with remembered anger. ‘I thought Elena's father was a scumbag.'

Salinas shook his head. ‘Did you want to go to court?' he prodded.

‘No. I don't think
you'd
like being charged with molesting a six-year-old, either.' Carlo turned to the jury, his expression wounded and urgent and sincere. ‘But I was ready to say then, just like I'm telling you right now, that Richie Arias was a liar. I didn't need anyone to say that for me, and I didn't need anyone to kill him, either. All I need is my father back.'

‘Move to strike as unresponsive,' Salinas snapped.

Caroline did not even stand. In a weary voice, she said, ‘And I move to strike that motion as pathetic.'

‘Motion denied,' Judge Lerner cut in. ‘Spare us the critiques, Ms Masters. As for you, Mr Salinas, perhaps you would have been better off apologizing.'

With that, Paget thought, Salinas's punishment was complete. Expressionless again, the prosecutor asked Carlo, ‘These papers Mr Arias filed, did you ever read them?'

‘No.' Carlo looked quite calm now. ‘My dad read them to me.'

Salinas nodded. ‘When did he tell you that Mr Arias had charged him with breaking up Ms Peralta's marriage?'

Carlo darted another quick glance at Paget. ‘After he was arrested.'

‘So at the time you discussed with your dad Mr Arias's charges against you, he didn't tell you that Mr Arias had also made charges against
him
?'

Carlo seemed to consider this. ‘I guess my dad didn't want to upset me any more.'

‘In fact, if he hadn't been arrested, your father might
never
have told you.'

‘Objection,' Caroline called out to Lerner. ‘Calls for speculation.'

‘Sustained.'

But the point had been made, Paget knew: in ways small and large, Salinas had succeeded in suggesting that Paget was bent on concealment of whatever was inconvenient – from the police, from Terri, and even from his own son. And each question raised about Paget's character would make his failure to testify all the more damaging.

Abruptly, Salinas shifted subjects. ‘Let's discuss the night before your father went to Italy. You went out, right?'

‘That's right.'

‘Around seven-thirty?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did you tell your dad where you were going?'

Carlo nodded. ‘Out with friends.'

‘Does he make it a practice to tell you if
he's
going out?'

‘Yes.'

‘Always?'

‘Pretty much.'

‘And what did he say on
that
night?'

Monk, Paget remembered, had not asked Carlo that question. But Caroline appeared to have prepared him well; almost offhandedly, Carlo answered, ‘I think he was going out with Terri.'

‘Did he seem ill?'

Paget felt himself tense. ‘I really don't remember,' Carlo said in a calm voice. ‘Dad's not much of a complainer.'

Salinas seemed to give the boy a second look. ‘Did you tell your dad when you'd be home?'

Carlo nodded. ‘Twelve-thirty.' His tone turned flat. ‘I have a curfew.'

‘When you spoke to your father,' Salinas asked, ‘did you give him reason to
believe
that you'd be home any earlier?' A moment's hesitation. ‘No.'

Caroline, Paget noted, kept her eyes fixed on Carlo; she had not looked at Paget since the line of questioning began.

‘And did you return home at twelve-thirty?'

‘Yes.'

‘And was your father home then?'

‘Yes.'

‘How do you know?'

A first slight smile. ‘He waited up for me. He does that a lot.'

‘And did he seem sick?'

Another pause. ‘I couldn't tell. It was dark, and I couldn't see very well. The only light was in the library.'

Salinas moved close to the witness stand. ‘Do you remember what he was wearing?'

‘Jeans and a sweater, I think.'

‘Not a gray suit?'

Carlo hesitated. ‘No.'

‘What about when you
left
, at about seven-thirty. Was he wearing a suit then?'

Paget felt himself tense. ‘I
think
so,' Carlo said.

‘Do you remember what color?'

‘No.'

‘After midnight, when you came home, did you notice any injuries to your father? Say to his right hand?'

Carlo's face went blank. Paget had known this expression since his son's childhood: Carlo used it when he wished to lie to him, or at least to cancel his thoughts or feelings. ‘No,' Carlo answered tersely.

What, Paget wondered, did Carlo think he had seen? But Salinas could not know Carlo as Paget did. ‘Between seven-thirty and twelve-thirty,' Salinas asked abruptly, ‘did you return home unexpectedly?'

The jury, Paget realized, had leaned forward with the question. But Carlo's voice was firm now. ‘Yes, I did.'

‘When?'

‘About eight-thirty.'

Salinas had become quiet again, surefooted. ‘And what were the circumstances?'

‘A bunch of us were at a friend's house – Darrell Sheets. We decided to go to a movie, and I realized I'd left my wallet at home. I wanted to take my girlfriend out for a pizza later, so I decided to go home and get it.'

Once more, Paget cursed his son's absentmindedness. ‘Did you see your father?' Salinas asked.

‘Physically see him? No.'

‘Did that concern you?'

‘I was in a hurry.' Carlo hesitated, then shrugged. ‘I guess I thought he was out with Terri.'

‘Where did you find your wallet?' Salinas asked.

‘In my bedroom.'

Salinas, Paget thought, had his satisfied look. ‘To get to your room,' he asked, ‘you walk up a central staircase, right?'

‘That's right.'

‘And going to the staircase, you pass the living room and library.'

‘Yes.'

‘Was anyone there?'

Carlo folded his arms. ‘Not that I saw.'

‘Was it light enough to see someone?'

Another pause. ‘I think so.'

‘Your father's bedroom is next to yours, correct?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did you hear anything in your dad's bedroom?'

‘I don't think so. I was hurrying.'

‘Did anyone call out to you?'

‘No.'

‘So at the point you climbed the stairs to your bedroom, you thought no one was home.'

Caroline was watching with new intensity, Paget realized; like Paget himself, she had lost control. ‘I guess that's what I thought then,' Carlo answered finally.

He was tense, Paget saw, hoping to give a helpful answer. ‘Salinas is going to sandbag him,' he whispered.

Caroline's eyes narrowed. ‘He just has to stick to his statement. He knows that, Chris.'

‘In fact,' Salinas said, ‘as far as
you
were concerned, no one was home.'

‘That's not true.' Carlo's voice rose in anger. ‘I told the police I thought I heard a sound. And now that I know my dad was home, I'm sure the sound was him.'

Salinas gave a too agreeable nod. ‘You told Inspector Monk that you thought perhaps you'd heard footsteps, right?'

‘I'm sure I did.'

‘You're sure now?'

‘Yes.'

‘Positive, in fact?'

‘Yes.'

‘No,'
Paget said under his breath.

Caroline had tensed. Salinas was leaning back a little, as if to look down at Carlo. ‘Tell me, Carlo, about how long after that night did you give your statement to the police?'

‘I don't know. Maybe three weeks.'

Salinas walked back to the prosecution table, picking up a piece of paper. ‘And at
that
time, according to the transcript of your interview with Inspector Monk, you said,
quote,
“All that I remember is thinking maybe I heard footsteps in the attic, above my room,”
unquote.
Remember that, Carlo?'

Carlo shifted in his chair. ‘I guess so.

‘And now it's about four
months
after that night, correct?'

Next to Paget, Caroline seemed to have stopped breathing. ‘I guess that's right,' Carlo said, and then leaned forward, looking Salinas in the face. ‘That's a long time, Mr Salinas, to think about you accusing my dad of murder. It makes remembering things more important. So I've replayed that night in my mind, over and over. I remember walking up the stairs, finding my wallet, and then hearing footsteps in the attic, where Dad and I keep our suitcases.' He turned to the jury. ‘I've thought about it, and now I'm sure. I can hear the footseps in my mind.'

Listening, Paget felt almost sick. And then, as if he could not help himself, Carlo looked to his father for approval.

Paget tried to smile. But when their eyes met, Paget knew that Carlo saw there was something wrong.

‘Did you ever tell that to the police?' Salinas asked.

Carlo's eyes flickered, and then he turned to Salinas. ‘No,' he said. ‘The police never came back.'

Salinas gave him a look of skeptical understanding. ‘Did you tell
anyone
?'

Carlo met Salinas's stare. Paget knew he would not look away now; it was the same trapped steadfast look Paget had first seen when Carlo was seven and he had caught him in a lie. ‘No,' Carlo said.

‘Not even your dad?'

Carlo shook his head. ‘He won't talk to me about the case. Because I'm a witness.'

‘Then how about his
lawyer,
Carlo?' Salinas pointed toward Caroline. ‘You know Ms Masters, don't you?'

‘Yes.' Carlo hesitated. ‘We didn't talk about it, exactly. I knew I'd get a chance to say things here.'

‘In other words, you just decided to save it for the trial.'

Carlo stared at him. ‘You asked me, and I just answered. It's the truth.'

Paget felt cold inside. ‘Then you must have considered calling the police,' Salinas said smoothly.

Carlo looked puzzled; it was the difference, Paget thought, between a normal person and a lawyer who could see the traps before they shut. ‘I don't understand,' Carlo said.

‘You thought your father was with Ms Peralta, right?'

Carlo blinked. ‘That's what I
thought
.'

‘So weren't you concerned about a prowler?'

Carlo looked startled. ‘I don't remember what I thought, exactly. I was in a hurry.'

‘Did you happen to mention it to your dad,' Salinas asked in a pleasant voice, ‘the next time you
did
see him?'

Carlo seemed confused now. ‘I don't think so.'

‘I don't think so, either, Carlo. Because you made it up, didn't you? To cover for your dad.'

Joseph Duarte was giving Carlo a skeptical look. Carlo still met Salinas's gaze. ‘No,' he said. ‘I'm
not
making it up.'

‘No?' When you came home at twelve-thirty, did you happen to ask your dad how his night was?'

‘I don't remember.'

‘Did he tell you he'd gotten sick and stayed home?'

‘I don't remember.'

Salinas shook his head. ‘Or did he simply tell you, Carlo, to come to court and lie for him?'

‘No.' Carlo's voice filled with anger now. ‘My dad would
never
ask me to lie.'

Carlo, Paget felt, had just lost a piece of himself. A gift for his father.

Salinas shook his head in disbelief, looking from Carlo to Paget. ‘No further questions.'

Beneath the table, Paget touched Caroline's knee. ‘Get him off of there.
Now
.'

Caroline did not move. ‘I can't do that to him,' she said under her breath. ‘He'll know then. Do you want to destroy him?'

‘Ms Masters,' Judge Lerner was asking.

Caroline turned to Paget with a look of urgency. ‘There was something that Carlo wants to say. For his sake, let him say it.'

Paget looked past her, into the face of his son, looking to his father for cues on how to feel. Smiling at Carlo, Paget whispered to Caroline, ‘Then make it fast.'

Quickly, Caroline was on her feet, moving toward Carlo with an air of confidence. ‘What kind of father
is
your dad?'

Carlo took a deep breath, as if to relax himself. ‘A great dad.'

Salinas stood at once. ‘Your Honor, whether Mr Paget is, or is not, a good father has nothing to do with the murder of Ricardo Arias.'

‘But it does.' Calmly, Caroline addressed Judge Lerner. ‘In Mr Salinas's words, it's perfectly all right to accuse Carlo Paget of child abuse without a shred of evidence and then to suggest that those charges drove his father to murder. The least the court can do is permit this boy a chance to say that his father is, in his considerable experience, a devoted father and is neither violent nor a liar. Under the rules both of evidence and of common decency.'