Act of God (46 page)

“And what was his reaction to that?”

“He was understandably upset.”

“What do you mean when you say upset?”

“I mean upset. He had tears in his eyes and he seemed to be distracted and depressed.”

“Is that all?”

Zach shrugged. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Lieutenant, did you not tell Detective Tinker that Corey Latham was angry when he found out about the abortion?”

“I may have used that word at the time, I don’t remember.”

“Well, let’s see if we can jog your memory a little. Was he angry?”

“Angry. Upset. What difference does it make? His wife not only lied to him, she killed his baby,” Zach replied. “Wouldn’t
that put you just a little bit off center?”

“Yes,” Brian replied, “it would. In fact, it would make me pretty angry.”

“All right then, if you like that word better, he was angry.”

“How long would you say his anger lasted?”

“I don’t know. For a while, I guess.”

“Longer than two weeks?”

“Maybe.”

“Longer than a month?”

“Look, I didn’t count the days, and I don’t really remember. In any case, it was his wife he was upset with, not the clinic.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Here we go with angry again,” Dana said with a sigh as she rose from her seat. “Tell me, Lieutenant Miller, did the defendant
rant and rave about what had happened?”

“No.”

“Did he make any threats?”

“Not that I heard.”

“Did he say he was going to go make a bomb and blow up Hill House?”

“Of course not.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much of anything. He just got real quiet. That’s how he is when something’s bothering him. He just gets real quiet and
chews on it until he works it out in his mind.”

“Was there anything about his state of mind during that time that gave you any indication he was plotting violence?”

“Absolutely not,” Zach assured her. “Corey isn’t like that. He’s the coolest guy I know. He wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Thank you,” Dana said.

“Redirect, Your Honor,” Brian said.

The judge nodded.

“Were you saying just now, Lieutenant Miller, that Corey Latham is incapable of hurting anyone?”

“No, not incapable, just not likely to.”

“You mean, if some enemy stormed our shore, and killed Americans, Lieutenant Latham would not be likely to respond?”

“No, I don’t mean that,” Zach replied. “He’s a naval officer. Of course he’d respond. I just meant we’re trained to defend,
not initiate. We aren’t trained to be the aggressor, to go out and attack someone, unprovoked.”

“Oh, so you’re saying he
would
fight if provoked, that he
would
defend against an enemy that had stormed our shore and killed Americans?”

“Yes.”

Brian leveled a long look at the defendant before turning back to the defendant’s friend. “Are you telling this court, sir,
that Corey Latham would go out and defend dead Americans he probably never knew, but he wouldn’t go out and defend his own
aborted baby?”

Zach blinked.

“Objection,” Dana declared. “Calls for a conclusion.”

“Withdrawn,” Brian said, before the judge could rule, or the witness could respond.

Craig Jessup slipped into the courtroom just after the lunch recess.

“We have to talk,” he whispered in Dana’s ear.

The attorney nodded. “Okay, let’s meet at the office around six,” she suggested. “I’ll arrange it with Joan and Charles.”

That was normally how they did it; having everyone in on the initial discussion saved time later. But Jessup shook his head.

“No, not at your office,” he said.

Dana frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“Not now,” he replied. “How about coming up to my place?”

In all their years of working together, he had never invited her to his home. “All right,” she said. “Your place.”

If Dana thought Jessup’s behavior odd, she had no time to dwell on it as a tall spare man with a big space between his front
teeth, who identified himself as Henry Lott, took the stand.

“Can you tell us where you work, Mr. Lott?” Brian asked.

“I work at Bay Auto Supply in Bremerton,” he replied.

“And how long have you worked there?”

“Let’s see… I been with them going on twelve years now.”

“To the best of your recollection, were you working there last December 15?”

“Yes, I was.”

“How do you come to be so certain?”

“Last March, when the police come asking, I checked my time card.”

“Do you know the defendant?”

“Sure do,” the witness said.

“How do you know him?”

“The lieutenant used to come in the store at least a couple times a month, getting stuff for his Jimmy.”

“Do you recall seeing the defendant on December 15?”

“Yes, I do,” Lott confirmed. “He come in around four-thirty in the afternoon.”

“You’re pretty sure of the time?”

“Yep. That’s always when he came in. After work, you know, before he gets on the ferry.”

“When he came in that day, what did he want?”

“He wanted a new battery.”

“Did you sell him one?”

“Sure did.”

“What did he say he wanted the battery for?”

Lott looked perplexed. “For his Jimmy, of course,” he replied. “The one he had was going on two years old, you see, and he
thought it was starting up kind of sluggish in the mornings sometimes, so he decided it was time to replace it. He took care
of that car like it was living and breathing.”

“And you’re sure that it was on December 15 that the defendant entered your store to purchase a new battery?”

“Sure I’m sure.”

Brian approached the witness, and handed him a slip of paper. “Will you tell the court what this is?” he requested.

Lott looked at the paper. “It’s a credit card receipt,” he said, “for sixty-five dollars and thirty-two cents.”

“What does it say the receipt is for?”

“A battery.”

“Whose credit card was used for the purchase?”

“The lieutenant’s.”

“And the date on the receipt?”

“December 15.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s all.”

Dana sat forward in her seat. “No questions, Your Honor,” she said.

Bendali nodded. “You may call your next witness, Mr. Ayres.”

“The prosecution calls Carney Toland,” Brian declared.

Carney Toland, a small wizened man of about forty, with greasy hair and dirty fingernails, took the stand.

“Where do you work, Mr. Toland?” Brian inquired of him.

“I have an auto parts shop—B&T Auto Parts—up on Aurora Avenue,” he replied.

“Were you working at your shop the week before Christmas of last year, specifically on the third Sunday of the month?”

“I was,” Toland replied.

“It was a long time ago, how can you be so certain?”

The man shrugged. “Because I’m at the shop every Sunday. My partner works Saturdays. I work Sundays.”

“And do you recall having a customer that day who purchased a battery from you?”

“Well, I probably had half a dozen,” the witness said, “but only one who looked like him.” He nodded in the direction of the
defendant.

“Out of half a dozen, why would you remember him?” Brian asked.

“He was a clean-cut, good-looking kid, very polite, very friendly-like, and he made an impression on me. So I remembered him.”

“Did he say anything about why he wanted the battery?”

“He said the one in his vehicle was two years old and was starting up kind of slow in the mornings, so he figured it was time
to replace it. He seemed real knowledgeable about cars.”

“We have heard previous testimony that the defendant purchased a battery for his SUV on December 15. So I must ask you, sir,
are you absolutely certain that it was just a few days later that the defendant came into your shop and purchased a similar
battery?”

“As certain as I can be,” Toland declared.

“Thank you,” Brian said.

Dana rose from her seat. “Mr. Toland, when exactly did you
remember that my client came into your shop to purchase a battery?”

“When I saw his picture in the newspapers.”

“And when was that?”

“Sometime in March or April, I guess.”

“So, two months after the bombing, you saw my client’s picture in the paper and suddenly remembered you had seen him in your
shop, purchasing a battery, is that correct?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Now, Mr. Toland, you said you sold as many as half a dozen batteries that day, didn’t you?”

“At least,” he amended. “It may have been closer to a dozen.”

“So it was pretty busy in your shop, is that right?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. The place really hops on the weekends.”

“Do you remember everyone who purchased a battery from you that day?”

“Well, maybe not everyone. But anyone who used it to make a bomb, I guess I’d remember.”

“I see,” Dana said. “So, if Corey Latham hadn’t been accused of making a bomb, you wouldn’t have remembered him, is that your
testimony?”

“No, no, I know my customers,” Toland quickly assured her. “And I remember him from the shop.”

Dana glanced across the spectator gallery. “Mr. Vaughan, will you stand up please.” In one of the middle rows, a medium-sized
man of about thirty scrambled to his feet. Dana turned back to the witness. “Do you recognize the man standing, sir?”

Toland squinted at the man. “He looks a little familiar,” he said. “But no, I can’t say as I recognize him exactly.”

“What if I told you that he was in your shop on the very same Sunday in December, and purchased a battery for his car. Would
you remember him then?”

The auto parts dealer blinked. “Was he?”

“You don’t know, do you?” Dana pressed. “You don’t remember him, do you?”

There was a pause. “No, I don’t,” Toland said with a sigh.

“Thank you, Mr. Vaughan,” Dana said. As the man sat back down, Dana picked up several slips of paper and approached the witness.
“Do you recognize this?” she asked, handing him one.

Toland looked at the slip. “It’s from my shop,” he said. “It’s a credit card receipt for a battery.”

“Whose name is on the receipt?”

“Lester Vaughan,” the witness read.

“On what date was the receipt issued?”

“On December 19.”

“So, on December 19, Lester Vaughan was in your shop to buy a battery for his car, but you don’t remember him.” She handed
him the remaining slips. “Will you please tell the court what these slips are?”

“They’re also credit card receipts.”

“Yes, for items purchased from your shop by Lester Vaughan over a two-year period. But you don’t remember him. And yet you
want this court to believe that Corey Latham walked into your shop once, and you’re able to positively pick him out of a newspaper?”

“He was there,” the auto parts dealer insisted. “I remember him.”

“Do you have any credit card receipts for my client,” Dana inquired, “for December 19—or any other date, for that matter?”

Toland shook his head. “No, I don’t. But he could have paid cash. Lots of people pay cash. Three of the batteries I sold that
day, I sold for cash. I have the register receipts. He could’ve been one of them.”

Dana shrugged. “But we’ll never really know, will we?” she said, finished with the witness.

“Mr. Toland,” Brian said on redirect, “when you saw the defendant’s picture in the newspaper, did you tell the police that
you recognized him as someone who had bought a battery at your shop on December 19 of last year?”

“Yes, I did,” the auto parts dealer said firmly. “I thought it was him. I don’t know, I still think it was him.”

A heavyset, platinum-haired man by the name of Carl Thorson was the next witness to take the stand.

“Mr. Thorson,” Brian began, “will you please tell the court where you live?”

“I live on Queen Anne Hill,” the man replied, “next door to Corey and Elise Latham.”

“Do you know the defendant?”

“Yes. He and his wife moved in a little over a year ago. We would talk occasionally, over the fence, you know, like neighbors
do.”

“Do you recall seeing the defendant any time during the first week in November of last year?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell the court under what circumstances?”

“It was about ten o’clock on a Tuesday night,” Thorson related. “I work at a bakery, and have to get up at three in the morning,
so I usually go to sleep around eight. On that Tuesday, I’d been asleep for about two hours, when I got waked up by loud shouting.”

“Could you tell where the shouting was coming from?”

“My bedroom windows face out on the Lathams’ house. The shouting was coming from there.”

“What did you do?”

“The first time, I called them on the telephone. Elise answered, and I asked her please to keep the noise down.”

“Did they?”

“For a while. Then just as I was getting back to sleep, it
started again. Well, then I got a little mad. So I got up, got dressed, and went over there. It’s a good thing, too, because
Corey looked like he was about to start smacking her around.”

“Objection,” Dana declared.