Let Darkness Come (30 page)

Bystrowski objects again, but Briley steps away from the witness stand. “Withdrawn. Thank you, sir. I have no further questions for this witness, Your Honor.”

A sibilant buzzing rises from the gallery as Briley walks to the defense table, but she can't tear her gaze from Bystrowski's stunned face.

T
hrough the storm of whispers, Antonio breathes one word:
“No.”
He gives the defense attorney a sidelong glance of utter disbelief and clenches his fist.

The jury may not be sharp enough to understand what that woman is doing, but he has grasped the full picture. All that business with the hair samples is an attempt to point the finger at one of his children! None of them was anywhere near Jeff's house that night, but they were all together at the fundraiser. Which can only mean that Jeffrey picked up a stray hair on his clothing and somehow transferred it to the bed linens…or someone fabricated this evidence.

That must be the answer. Someone felt sorry for Erin and recently planted those hairs down at the police department. That's why they didn't surface until today. That's why the defense attorney was able to spring new evidence on the prosecutor. That's why she went through that song and dance about the chain of custody and the police report—

That's why Antonio wasn't warned about this bombshell.

As the judge calls for order, Antonio stares at the defense attorney's pale profile. Briley Lester knew she was losing, so she must have called in a favor from someone with ties to the police department. She and Erin have grown close; hasn't everyone noticed the way she frequently pats Erin's shoulder or touches her arm? Joseph Franklin assured him this woman was inexperienced; he promised she wouldn't be tenacious.

Yet Briley Lester has one of the leading state's attorneys
on the run. Bystrowski is now huddling with his associate, nodding and jotting notes on a legal pad.

At Antonio's left, Jason's breathing has quickened. “What is she doing?” He gives the defense attorney a black look. “What is she thinking?”

“She's desperate.” Antonio lowers his voice as the judge demands order. “This is a last-minute attempt to cast suspicion on someone else.”

But on the off chance that the situation might spin out of control, he pulls his phone from his pocket and taps out a text message.

B
riley adopts a deadpan expression as Bystrowski confers with his associate, then stands. “Your Honor,” he asks, “may I request a sidebar?”

The judge gestures for both lawyers to step forward.

When Briley and Bystrowski stand at the front of the judge's bench, the prosecutor vents his frustration. “Your Honor,” he says, his voice a low rumble, “the defense is required to disclose all evidence they intend to offer at trial. Reciprocal discovery requirements have not been met in this case, and the state has had no time to investigate this latest evidence. Before we commence the cross-examination of this witness, we would like to request a recess to conduct our own investigation.”

Briley straightens her spine, stretching her height to better see the judge. “I beg to differ, Your Honor. The defense
did
provide the state with a list of all evidence, plus the names and addresses of all witnesses we planned to call. We intended full cooperation, and we provided it. The evidence we introduced today has been in the state's custody and available to the prosecutor. We should not be penalized because we became aware of untested evidence.”

The judge strokes his chin. “Let me see if I'm understanding this correctly…. The evidence in question, the hair samples, has been in the state's possession for how long?”

Briley grips the edge of his desk. “Since the commission of the homicide, Your Honor.”

“And it wasn't tested?” Trask looks at Bystrowski. “Why not?”

Not wanting blame to fall on Louis Thomsen or Detective Malone, Briley interjects an answer. “The prosecutor charged the first available suspect. They didn't test additional evidence because they thought they had their killer.”

A shadow of annoyance crosses Bystrowski's face. “The difference in the samples couldn't have been apparent, Your Honor. All the samples were a visual match to either the victim or the defendant. And we never test every hair, because DNA can only be pulled from samples with an attached follicle.”

The judge rubs his hand over his face, then gives Briley a wry grin. “I don't think a few hours will hurt your case, Counselor, and the prosecution apparently needs time to see what else, if anything, they might have in storage down at the police lab.” He looks at Bystrowski. “I would advise you to commence your cross-examination now, Counselor. You can always recall the witness later.”

Briley smothers a smile as she returns to her counsel table. The prosecutor doesn't sit, but charges toward Louis like a bull released from a rodeo chute. “Three people in that bedroom?” He shifts his gaze to the jury and adopts an expression of amazed disbelief. “Did you find three sets of fingerprints on that syringe?”

Louis shakes his head. “No.”

“Did you or the police find
any
fingerprints belonging to a third person?”

“Well, yes. The third set of prints was identified as the housekeeper's.”

“Could this hair belong to the housekeeper?”

“Not unless she's related to Erin or Jeffrey Tomassi.”

“Is it possible that this mysterious sibling's hair could have come from a piece of clothing and dropped onto the bedsheets?”

“I suppose that's possible.”

“Did the police find any other evidence of this mysterious third person?”

“Not to my knowledge—but my knowledge is hardly exhaustive. I never visited the crime scene.”

Briley rests her chin on her hand, careful to maintain a neutral expression as Bystrowski searches for words. She's caught him by surprise, and that's not an easy thing to do.

“So—” Bystrowski turns to the witness again, determined to drive his point home “—in all the evidence gathered from the murder scene, you found nothing else to establish the presence of an intruder. No fingerprints, no footprints, no traces of saliva on a drinking glass. Are you really basing your theory of an intruder on one tiny hair?”

“Actually, the police collected four tiny hairs belonging to the third person,” Louis says, leaning forward. “And DNA does not lie.”

In a terse voice, Bystrowski announces that he's done with the witness and stalks back to his table.

A moment later the judge declares a recess and announces that the court will reconvene at nine-thirty on Thursday morning.

 

Ensconced in a booth at Taqueria Tayahua, a restaurant less than a mile from the courthouse, Briley lifts her soda glass. “A toast.” She smiles at Kate. “To Louis the lab guy, and Dr. Phillips, who gave me what could prove to be a brilliant idea.”

Kate clinks her glass against Briley's. “Don't count your chickens yet. You know Bystrowski's going to come back tomorrow and hit on the fingerprint issue again. If another person was in the room, where's the third set of fingerprints?”

“All I have to do is ask about gloves during the redirect,” Briley says. “Unlocked windows and gloves. I might have the court reporter read back part of Detective Malone's testimony. I remember him saying that if there'd been an intruder, he would have left some trace of his presence. Well—” she grins “—he was right.”

Kate sips from her drink, then lowers her glass. “Imag
ine having two different sets of DNA in your body. How weird is that?”

“I don't care if it's weird. I'm just glad we learned about it in time.”

Folding her arms, Kate leans closer. “Come on, Briley, what do you think
really
happened in that bedroom? I mean, being a chimera is a lucky break for your client, but it doesn't explain anything.”

“I think…” Briley hesitates, sorting through her own thoughts. “I think that parasomnia is the right—the accurate—defense.”

“So you think she injected him while she was asleep.”

“What else could have happened?” Briley shakes her head. “I'm only glad that unidentified hair establishes reasonable doubt. That's enough to get Erin acquitted…if the jury does the right thing.”

Kate rises halfway out of her seat as someone jangles the bell above the restaurant door. “I thought Wills was coming,” she says, sinking back onto the bench. “I told him we'd meet him here.”

Briley shrugs. “Maybe he had to run an errand.”

“Anyway,” Kate continues, “that is an incredible development. I wonder how many people are chimeras and don't even know it?”

“That's not something I want to contemplate. The thought is enough to give me a headache.”

The bell jangles again. A moment later, William shrugs out of his coat, hangs it on a hook, and slides into the booth next to Kate. “What's the good word?”

“The word is
celebration
.” Kate gives him a welcoming smile. “All Briley has to do now is deliver her closing remarks and remind the jurors that Mrs. Walker had just changed the sheets in the master bedroom. No juror is going to pin the murder on an abused woman when the evidence proves someone else was present at the scene.”

“Don't forget the fingerprints.” Briley unfolds her napkin.
“I'll have to remind the jurors that someone could have manipulated Erin's hand while she was asleep. I'll mention that in my closing, too.”

“But what about the Tomassis?” William looks at Briley, concern in his eyes. “What are you going to do if they pin the crime on Jason or one of the sisters?”

“They won't,” Briley says. “The police will investigate. And when they do, they'll learn that the unidentified DNA doesn't match any of the Tomassis. But by that time our trial will be finished.”

Kate lifts a warning finger. “What happens when they learn the siblings are Erin and her chimera?”

William's brows shoot up to his hairline. “Am I missing something?”

“You've missed a lot.” Briley laughs. “Serves you right for coming in late.”

“You know,” Kate says, “the prosecutor has other options to explain that third DNA specimen. The hair could have come from any of the Tomassi kids and fallen off Jeffrey's clothing. The entire family was together that night.”

Briley picks up her menu. “Bystrowski is probably framing that argument right now. Either that, or he's calling Louis for more information about those hair samples.”

A flicker of alarm widens Kate's eyes. “What if Louis tells him the siblings in the sample are female? Won't that ruin everything?”

Briley smiles over the top of her menu. “Louis worked all night. I'm pretty sure he's home asleep and will be for the next several hours.”

William looks from Kate to Briley and back to Kate. “You're speaking in code, aren't you?”

“Listen, Sherlock, and you'll catch up.” Kate nudges him in the shoulder. “But we've just caught the mother of all lucky breaks.”

“To be continued.” William slides to the end of the bench. “Excuse me. Nature calls.”

Kate watches him stand and walk toward the back of the restaurant. “I'm growing quite fond of our Wills. You have to admire a man who takes several vacation days to sit in a Cook County courtroom.”

“He took
what?
”

“His vacation time. I thought you knew.”

“I had no idea. I thought he had permission from the partners.”

“The firm wasn't about to give him leave, so he put in for personal days. I teased him about having a crush on you, but you know William. He keeps insisting he's only trying to broaden his legal experience.”

Briley stirs her drink with her straw. “Wow. Maybe I owe the man a dinner or something. Which reminds me—I meant to call the office and tell Franklin we should be finishing tomorrow, but with all that running around I did last night, I forgot to charge my cell phone. Can I borrow yours?”

Kate shakes her head. “I stopped bringing mine on the second day of the trial. The service is picking up all my calls.” She pats the pockets of William's coat. “Here. Use Wills's.”

Briley accepts the phone and flips it open, then glances at the screen. One name is listed under recently received calls: Antonio Tomassi.

What business would William have with
him?

As Kate natters on about William's fine qualities, Briley struggles to make sense of her confused thoughts. Antonio Tomassi is connected to the firm. William has been a great help to Briley, but as the law librarian, his loyalties must lie with the partners. Unless…

Thoughts she dares not articulate buzz in a vicious swarm. What if Kate is wrong about William's motivation for attending the trial? What if he's not here to support Briley, but to spy for Tomassi?

The idea's crazy…isn't it?

She snaps the phone shut and hands it back to Kate. “I'll
call later,” she says, trying to keep her voice light. “Too noisy in here.”

Kate shrugs and drops the phone back into William's pocket. “No noisier than anywhere else in this part of town. But suit yourself.”

“Briley?”

She turns at the unexpected but familiar voice. Timothy stands in the aisle, his face tanned, his eyes soft. A shock wave spreads from the epicenter of her chest, tingling her fingers and numbing her toes. “Timothy? What—? How?”

“One of the security guards at the courthouse overheard you asking for directions to this place. I took a chance you'd still be here.” He gestures to the empty spot at her side. “Can I join you?”

“Sure.” Briley gives Kate a bewildered look, then slides over to make room. As Timothy settles in, she tilts her head, not quite believing what she's seeing. “When did you get back from California?”

“Late last night. But I was in court this morning. And you did great.”

“You were there?”

“I slipped into the back as things were starting up.”

“Oh.” She stares at him, her emotions roiling. “So where is Dax today?”

“At a spa, having something waxed. I didn't ask.”

“Are you sure it's not the kind of spa that serves joints on the side?”

“It's the kind of spa that serves seaweed slushes. I called to make sure he'd be okay without me.”

Briley falls silent as William approaches. He drops into the booth and gapes at Timothy. “Sitting at the table is kind of overfriendly for a waiter, isn't it?”

“He's not a waiter.” Briley's voice comes out wavery and uncertain. “Wills, meet Timothy Shackelford. He's with me.”

William's smirk fades. “Oh. Nice to meet you.”

Oblivious of the change in Briley's mood, Kate flicks lint
from William's sweater. “You missed out. Briley was just saying that she owed you a home-cooked dinner.”

A flush rises from the librarian's collar. “Sorry I missed that.”

“Trust me, you won't hear it often.” Timothy winks at Briley. “My favorite lawyer doesn't cook for just anyone.”