Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) (37 page)

L
ATE
T
UESDAY MORNING
, Curt finally got his chance to question Andrew Stevens. He led with harmless questions designed to put the man at ease. A half hour into questioning, he finally got to the heart of the matter. “Mr. Stevens, have you ever been to Egypt?”

Stevens stiffened in the witness box. The bastard didn’t want that line of questioning. Too bad.

“Objection, question on cross-examination goes beyond scope of direct,” Stevens’s attorney, Ben Sherrod, said.

“Your Honor, Vice President Stevens spoke of his travel to foreign countries as part of his work for Raptor,” Curt said.

“Overruled. You may answer the question, Mr. Stevens.”

“Yes. I’ve been to Egypt once. But it wasn’t for Raptor, or as vice president. I was visiting my niece.”

“Objection, witness’s answer goes beyond the scope of the question,” Sherrod said with barely restrained annoyance.

“Mr. Sherrod, he’s
your
witness. Overruled.”

Curt smiled as Ben Sherrod gritted his teeth. Sherrod hadn’t stood a chance of winning that objection, but he’d managed to remind his defendant to keep his answers simple.

“You weren’t there on a Raptor assignment?” Curt asked.

“No.”

“Then why was Raptor’s CEO, Robert Beck, also present?”

“Objection,” Sherrod said. “Assuming facts not in evidence.”

“I’ll rephrase, Your Honor. Mr. Stevens, did Raptor’s CEO, Robert Beck, join you in Egypt when you visited your niece?”

“Yes. He came along so he could visit his son, Evan Beck, a Raptor operative who worked on a contract basis with JPAC.”

“Did anyone else travel with you to Egypt?” Curt asked.

“Two Secret Service agents.”

“You were no longer vice president, but you still had Secret Service protection?”

Stevens twisted in the witness box and faced the jury on his left. He flashed his friendly, politician smile. “It is allowed for six months for former vice presidents.”

Juror three, a middle-aged school teacher, smiled back for the fifth time since Stevens took the stand.

“When did you stop receiving Secret Service protection?”

“I don’t remember the exact date.”

“Is it safe to assume it was six months after January 20th?”

“Reasonable. It might have been a little earlier.”

“And two Secret Service agents traveled with you to Egypt?”

The man let out an annoyed sigh, and Curt could just bet the former vice president had the jurors in the palm of his hand. That was about to change. “Yes.”

“Did a photographer travel with you to Egypt?”

Stevens finally turned back to Curt. “No. This was a private visit.”

Curt met his gaze. “Photographs of the trip appeared on the AP wire. Who took those photos?” Defendants usually looked away, but not Stevens.

“My niece. Mara has an excellent digital camera and a good eye.”

“Let the record show that the person the defendant refers to is his niece, Mara Garrett,” Curt said.

Stevens cleared his throat. “Yes. Sorry.”

Mara was a heroine to most of the people who’d followed her story in the press. Every time Stevens referred to her in a warm, avuncular way, the jury’s attention level peaked. Sherrod had certainly told him to mention Mara as often as possible under cross.

Aurora handed Curt the first photo they planned to introduce. A familiar jolt ran through him at seeing Mara’s face in the picture. “Permission to approach the witness?”

“Proceed,” Judge Hawthorne said.

Curt left the podium and handed Stevens the photo. “Was this photo taken on that trip?”

Stevens shrugged. “I assume. The background looks right. I visited Mara a few times on different deployments. They blur together a bit.”

“Your Honor, I offer this photo as exhibit sixty-six and ask that it be accepted into evidence.”

“Your Honor, a moment while I review the photo?” Sherrod asked.

“Certainly.”

Sherrod flipped through the proposed exhibit binder and found the photo. After a moment of study, he said, “No objections.”

“Let the record show exhibit sixty-six has been accepted into evidence.”

“May I publish this to the jury?”

“You may.”

Curt approached Juror One and handed him the photo. The man studied it, then passed it to the next juror; they’d gotten used to passing exhibits over the last few weeks.

He returned to the podium and received another photo from Aurora. Equally innocuous, taken later in the day and also one that had been picked up by the Associated Press. Curt went through the same process and the photo was admitted as exhibit sixty-seven without argument.

“Your Honor, at this time I would like to show the defendant a third photo, taken the same day, which only recently came into prosecution’s possession.”

Sherrod shot to his feet. “Objection, prosecution did not supply defense with the photograph during discovery.”

“Your Honor,” Curt said with his most conciliatory smile, “chain-of-evidence will show we only discovered this photograph the day before yesterday, and therefore were unable to provide it during discovery.”

“Sidebar. Now.” Judge Hawthorne didn’t look pleased. Curt calculated the odds of showing the photo to Stevens at fifty-fifty.

“What’s the deal with this photograph, Dominick?”

He handed the judge a copy. “It was recovered from Mara Garrett’s backup hard disk. I want Stevens to look at the picture and tell me if he remembers when it was taken.”

Ben Sherrod looked at the picture. His eyebrow rose. “Obvious forgery,” Sherrod said.

“The chain-of-evidence is clean,” Curt added.

“Mr. Dominick, you can’t ask for a photo to be admitted without authentication.” Judge Hawthorne’s tone was mildly annoyed.

“Stevens can authenticate it. As you can see, he was there.”

Hawthorne paused. Finally, she said, “I’ll allow you to show the defendant the photo.”

Curt’s heart thudded and adrenaline pulsed. When he’d told Mara the courtroom was his happy place,
this
was what he’d meant. The rush of assured victory. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

Sherrod returned to his seat, his movements stiff. He was worried. Very worried.

As he should be.

Curt delivered the photo to Stevens and lingered by the witness box. “Do you recognize this photo, Mr. Stevens?”

He caught the slight widening of the man’s eyes before he got his reaction under control. Having seen what he wanted, Curt retreated to the podium.

Stevens looked to the jury, not Curt, as he gave his answer. “No.”

“Was it taken by your niece?”

To Sherrod’s credit, he kept his mouth closed.

“It’s not possible. The photo is a complete forgery,” Stevens said.

“Your Honor, at this time I ask that the photo, marked proposed exhibit sixty-eight, be introduced into—”

Again, Sherrod shot to his feet. “Objection! Lack of proper foundation.”

Judge Hawthorne glared at the defense attorney. “Sit down, Mr. Sherrod. Your objection is sustained. Introduction of the photo into evidence is denied.” Gavel met sound block, underscoring her ruling.

Curt smiled, having gotten exactly what he wanted. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Sherrod, do you wish to redirect?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“The witness is excused.”

Stevens returned to his seat at the defendant’s table.

“Mr. Sherrod, do you have another witness?”

“No, Your Honor. At this point, the defense rests.”

Noise rose in the gallery, even among the jurors as they sat straighter, stretched, and looked relieved their odyssey was almost over.

After another glare from the judge, the room settled. “Mr. Dominick, does the prosecution wish to present rebuttal argument?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Disappointed sighs rose from the jury.

“Is your first witness ready?”

Curt looked at his watch. “I can have the witness brought to the courthouse in twenty minutes.”

The judge frowned. She was as anxious as the jurors to end this. “As we are nearing midday, we will recess for lunch. Have your witness here by one thirty, Counselor.” Judge Hawthorne dropped the gavel.

T
HE
FBI
AGENT
in the vestibule startled her by opening the front door and peeking into the living room. “Ms. Garrett, you have a visitor.”

A visitor? Who the hell knew she was here? “I was told I couldn’t have visitors. Curt said—”

“This visitor was sent by Mr. Dominick.” The door opened wider, and a man she’d never seen before passed through.

Mara instinctively stiffened and took a step backward.

“Ms. Garrett? I’m a federal marshal. I’m here to escort you to the courthouse. You’ve been called to testify.”

Her brain shut down. This could not be happening.

But it was. She was taken from the safe house, led to an SUV parked out front. Two FBI agents waited inside the vehicle, protection for the drive across town.

They wound through the familiar streets of DC, taking her ever closer to a man who’d tried to sweet-talk her into coming to DC, but when that failed, he’d set his hacker friend to finding her.

They circled the federal courthouse and entered the parking garage.

“You’re worth a thousand Jeannies.”

“Jeannie’s word isn’t worth spit… Your word is the only one that will convince a judge to issue a warrant.”

But he hadn’t wanted her here for a warrant to find the smallpox bomb. No, they really
had
come full circle. He’d raced to save her only because he wanted her to testify.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

She’d heard those words in her mind a thousand times since he’d uttered them. She’d believed he had stayed away from the safe house the first night to give them both time to cool off. And last night, when he didn’t appear, she’d convinced herself it was because her uncle had taken the stand, and he’d understood how hard that was for her.

The vehicle stopped by the garage elevator. Curt stood by the curb. Her heart lurched at the sight of him, as it had from the first moment she saw him.

An agent opened the SUV door. She climbed out and approached the man she’d thought she was falling in love with. Curt’s expression sent chills up her spine. He looked like he did in the photos with the North Korean dictator. An empty suit. Expressionless.

After all they’d gone through together, she was once again face-to-face with The Shark.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-NINE

T
HE LOOK ON
her face nearly killed him, but it was the blow to his cheek that made his head spin. Not a dainty slap from his pixie. No. She’d decked him with a closed fist.

The marshal caught her wrist as she pulled back for a second blow, and dragged her away from him. The two FBI agents flanked her.

“Mr. Dominick, do you intend to press charges?” one of the agents asked.

“No. I deserved it.” Cupping his sore face, he turned and headed to the elevator.

“Goddam you, Curt! You son of a bitch!” Her rant continued, getting more and more creative as she went. She’d clearly spent a lot of time in the field with marines.