Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #2 (49 page)

Max stood up. “You ready, Syd?”

“Definitely. Let's do this.”

* * *

Sydney was telling the truth. She was ready to testify and get this behind her. She had to keep telling herself to think about this the way she had thought about all her other cases. Not to focus on the security and threats, but to do her job as a professional forensic artist. A job she knew she was good at. She wanted to do her part to send a guilty man to prison for the kidnapping and murder of an innocent woman. A young woman who had had her whole life ahead of her, only to have it stolen by Kevin Diaz. She had been only twenty-five.

Sydney pushed the doubt Max had unwittingly planted from her mind. He'd made those comments before he'd known her that well. But his misgivings about the accuracy of traditional sketch art still played a little tune of insecurity in the back of her head.

Her heels clicked loudly on the floor as she walked down the hall, and she focused on that noise. Blocked everything else out. The walk down the hallway seemed like the length of a football field. She forced herself to breathe and prayed for the strength and wisdom to do her job to the best of her ability.

They reached the courtroom, and she steadied herself as Max squeezed her arm. He was letting her know it would all be okay. He was focusing on her security so she could focus on what she had to do.

One of the other agents pushed open the courtroom door, and they escorted her inside. She looked up and saw the jury was already in their seats. All of their attention was turned to her as she walked down the courtroom aisle.

The judge looked at the prosecutor. “Are you ready, Ms. Lutz?”

“Yes, your honor. The prosecution calls Sydney Berry to the stand.”

Sydney walked to the witness stand and sat down.

“Ms. Berry,” the judge said. “You were previously sworn in. I know it's been quite a few days, but this is just a reminder that you remain under oath. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, your honor.” The judge had gray hair and kind blue eyes. He was known as a stickler for procedure, but he had a reputation for being fair.

“Ms. Berry,” the prosecutor began. “Last time we were here we got the preliminaries and your background out of the way that properly established you as an expert witness. Now, I'd like to have you explain to the jury what work you've done on this case specifically.”

“Of course. I met with the eyewitness, Ms. Sheila Baker, who provided me with details of the man she saw the night the victim was kidnapped and murdered. Based on that meeting, which lasted about two hours, I generated a sketch.” She was careful not to provide any commentary about the actual crime. That wasn't her area. She was the artist, not the detective.

“Your honor, the prosecution would now move to have the sketch drawn by Ms. Berry entered into evidence,” Ms. Lutz said.

“Any objections?” asked the judge.

“We'd like to renew our motion to exclude the sketch,” Mr. Pines, the defense attorney, said.

The judge shook his head. “Mr. Pines, I've already ruled on the general admissibility of the sketch produced by Ms. Berry during pretrial hearings.”

“Yes, your honor. I remember the expert
hearing well where we argued over Ms. Berry's qualifications. But I would still like to respectfully renew the motion to exclude the sketch.”

The judge stood firm. “Mr. Pines, if you have objections to raise that are substantively different, then you can make them. Otherwise, the sketch is admitted as state's exhibit twenty-two.”

“No, your honor. I don't have anything new.” Mr. Pines looked down and took a seat.

Sydney had been a part of the protracted pretrial hearing months ago on the admissibility of her sketch as part of her qualifications to testify as an expert. At the end of the day, the prosecution had won that argument which would allow her to testify as an expert witness in the case.

“Thank you, your honor,” Ms. Lutz said. “I'd like the sketch to be published to the jury now, via the monitor.”

Sydney's sketch went up on the big screen for the entire jury to see. Ms. Lutz was a seasoned prosecutor. She knew exactly what she was doing. She purposely gave the jury a minute to digest the sketch before she continued her examination.

Even Sydney herself couldn't believe how spot on the sketch was. There was no doubt that the man in the sketch was the defendant, Kevin Diaz. And by the looks on the jurors' faces they were thinking the same thing. Several jurors sat wide-eyed while others looked back and forth between the big screen and the defendant.

Sydney performed very well during the rest of Ms. Lutz's questions but that was to be expected since she was a witness for the state and they'd had extensive meetings to prepare for her testimony. But now it was the defense's turn, and she knew Mr. Pines wasn't going to hold back. No, he was going to try to destroy her.

Mr. Pines walked toward her, never breaking eye contact. It was his first step in attempting to intimidate her. “Isn't it true, Ms. Berry, that as a sketch artist you actually come up with faces that you draw based on what people tell you?”

The defense attorney stared her down, daring her to deny his statement. But she wasn't afraid. The truth was on her side.

“Mr. Pines, you are correct that I'm a sketch artist, but you're wrong in your characterization that I
come up with
the faces I draw. My sketches are based solely on information provided by the witnesses. Very specific information. They're not something I create based on my own whims or imagination.”

Mr. Pines let silence fall over the courtroom. He was in his fifties, a seasoned defense attorney. One of the best around. And Kevin Diaz had paid big bucks for his services.

It bothered her that she felt as though Max probably would agree with Mr. Pines about her work as a sketch artist. But for now she had to put that out of her mind.

Mr. Pines turned in a dramatic fashion, waving his right arm around as he looked toward the jury with his big dark eyes and then back at her. “Ms. Berry, now let's not be disingenuous to this hardworking jury.”

“Objection, your honor.” Ms. Lutz the prosecutor stood up. “Improper commentary about the jury.”

“Sustained,” the judge said. “The jury is instructed to disregard the last comment made by Mr. Pines.”

“Isn't it very possible, Ms. Berry, that you saw Mr. Diaz in the news the week before you met with the eyewitness and that you subconsciously used him in that sketch when the witness happened to bring up similar features?”

Sydney was ready for this. She'd had her deposition taken months ago and had told the truth then, as she would now. That she had in fact seen Kevin Diaz before. But she was firm in her position that seeing him in passing on the news a week before she met with the witness had nothing to do with her sketch. Diaz had been interviewed about his latest construction project that was supposed to bring millions into the city, and he'd done multiple local TV news interviews.

Before she could answer, the defense attorney kept going. “And since you filled in those blanks with a similar-looking man that you could use as a point of reference, you're now asking the jury to convict an innocent man?”

“No,” she said quietly. “That's not true.” She didn't know why she didn't respond more loudly.

“You're under oath, Ms. Berry.” His voice rang out loudly, and he pounded the podium.

She flinched at his show of force.

“Can you say, under oath, that you are one hundred percent certain that seeing Mr. Diaz in the news only days before you met with the witness didn't impact your drawing?”

“It did not.” She felt her composure slipping. He was calling into question her integrity.

“And you're sure?”

“Mr. Pines, I think I've answered your question.” Right after she said those words, she wanted to take them back. She sounded too defensive, and that was not how she wanted to project herself to the jury.

“How can you be so certain?”

She sat up taller in the witness chair. “Because I'm telling you the truth, and I'm certain that seeing Mr. Diaz on the local news didn't impact me at all.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but she was faltering. Pines smelled blood and was going in for the kill. Why was she letting him get inside her head? She never should've let Max's opinion get to her.

“You don't sound too convinced to me,” the attorney said. “But I know you don't want your professional credibility called into question for the whole world to see. That would definitely impact your ability to keep getting hired as an expert witness now, wouldn't it, Ms. Berry?”

“Objection, he's badgering the witness, your honor,” Ms. Lutz said.

“I'll withdraw.” Mr. Pines took a step back. “That's all I have for now.”

Sydney tried to calm her breathing, though she was having a hard time. Pines had sown the seeds of doubt. And that was all he needed as a defense attorney. Reasonable doubt.

“Redirect, your honor,” Ms. Lutz said as she stood up.

Good, Sydney thought. The prosecutor was going to attempt to clean this up.

“Ms. Berry, at the time you met with the witness, what did you know about Mr. Diaz?”

“Just that he was a successful businessman and quite active in the local community.”

“And when you're drawing based upon a witness interview, do you ever think about people you know or famous people and use them as a guide for your sketch?”

“Never.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Quite sure, Ms. Lutz. I am confident that I drew that sketch based purely on the information given to me by the witness, and not on any outside influence of any kind.”

“That's all I have for the witness, your honor.”

“You're dismissed, Ms. Berry.”

As Sydney stepped down off the stand, she wondered if the prosecution's redirect would be enough, but she feared it was not going to be. The defense had rattled her and put a plausible alternative theory into the jury's mind.

The prosecution would want to use her sketch to strengthen the testimony of the eyewitness. Since eyewitnesses could often be discredited, having the sketch as a contemporaneous piece of evidence was critical to the state's case.

She heard the judge speaking as Max and the other agents escorted her to the door. “I understand that was the final witness. Closing statements to start in thirty minutes.”

Sydney's stomach clenched as she realized it was entirely possible that a verdict could come down as soon as today.

Max's strong arm steadied her as they walked out of the courtroom and down the hallway.

“You did great,” he said.

She kept her eyes straight ahead as she retorted, “Don't patronize me, Max. There's definitely reasonable doubt planted by Mr. Pines.” She felt sick knowing that a killer could be set free. “I was honest. If I wouldn't have been so honest in my deposition, this wouldn't have even been an issue.”

“But you were honest as you should've been. You did everything you could, Syd. It's completely out of your hands now. Let the jury do its job.”

She looked at him then. “So you're trying to tell me that given your preconceptions about sketch artists, you would convict based on my testimony?”

“There are a lot of factors that would go into my decision.”

She felt anger bubbling beneath the surface. She needed to take a deep breath before they got into a useless argument.

They walked out of the courthouse surrounded by security. “What's next now?” she asked.

“I'll explain once we're secure at the FBI safe house.”

She didn't like the sound of that one bit.

TEN

F
inally, they were alone at the safe house. Or at least alone for the moment. Elena was outside making phone calls. Max knew what he had to do now. He took a deep breath as he grabbed Sydney's hand and led her into the living room.

“There's something you don't want to tell me,” Sydney said, correctly gauging his mood.

“Have a seat on the couch with me,” he said. He'd gone over different strategies in his head of how to handle this. But at the end of the day he just needed to be direct and honest. That was what Sydney would expect from him, and it was what she deserved.

“I'm listening.” She sat down beside him and held his hand. “Whatever it is, Max, I promise you I can handle it. Is this about my testimony?”

He ran his left hand through his hair. “No, it's not about that. There are some security issues and disputes revolving around you.”

“What do you mean? What kind of disputes?”

“Well, the people above Elena at the marshals believe that your security situation is completely tied up with Ward. They don't think you're under any threat from Kevin Diaz.”

“That could be true,” she said. “At the beginning of all this, we didn't know that Rick was in the picture. All we know for certain now is the connection between Rick and East River.”

He nodded. “But you see, the problem is that the marshals are ready to cut you lose.”

Her eyes widened. “Cut me loose? What are you talking about?”

“Meaning no more security detail. They definitely don't think there's any basis for entry into the witness-protection program at this point. The way they see it, this is a domestic dispute. A very dangerous one, but one that falls outside of their mission and jurisdiction.”

She didn't say anything for a minute. And he gave her time to process it. “So what does this mean for me now? Do I just go back to my regular life?”

“I don't want you to do that. You're still in danger.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

Here it was. She wasn't going to like this, but he wanted to do it. “I'm going to take leave and provide you with security on my own.” He paused. “If you'll allow it.”

She shook her head. “No, you can't just leave your job indefinitely and follow me around.”

“I don't look at it at all like that, Syd. You're still in danger.”

She stood and walked a couple of steps away from the sofa before turning back to him. “Don't you get it? As long as Rick Ward is free, I'm in danger. That could be the rest of my life.”

“The FBI is going to do their best to catch Ward. It's only a matter of time. The FBI gang unit still cares a lot about him and Lucas Jones and whatever else East River is up to.”

“But the FBI doesn't really have an interest in my security,” she said matter-of-factly.

“It's more of a resources issue. If there's a specific threat, then the FBI will probably act on your behalf.”

“You mean if there are
more
specific threats. I've already been threatened.”

He detected the change in her tone, could feel her hackles go up. “I'm on your side here, Syd. Which is why I want you to let me help you get through this. Let the FBI focus on catching Ward with evidence that will stick.”

“So you're just what? Going to put your entire life on hold for me? What's in it for you?”

“You should know me better than that by now.” He reached out and gently took her hand. “I care about you, Sydney. Spending more time with you definitely won't be a hardship.”

“I'll agree to this on one condition.”

The look in her eyes let him know that he was probably going to hate her condition. “What is it?”

“That we use me to set a trap for Rick. We catch him and have him put away once and for all. That way we can all return to our normal lives.”

He didn't want to return to a normal life if Sydney was no longer in it. “I don't like putting you in more danger than you already are.”

“I agree, but you know it's a good idea. We can flush him out. This is the best way, not having the FBI running around aimlessly searching for him.”

“There's just one problem with your plan.”

“And what's that?”

“If we use you to draw Ward out, you will be directly in harm's way. And I'm not just going to sit back and hand you over to your ex. He's hurt you once under my care, and I'm not going to let that happen again.”

She looked away from him and bit her bottom lip. “We can figure out something that will work. Don't give up on the idea just yet.”

Max was about to object when Elena walked into the living room, her lips drawn downward into a tight frown.

“The verdict is in,” she announced.

Sydney took a step toward Elena. “What was it?”

“I'm sorry, Sydney. The jury found Diaz not guilty.”

Sydney collapsed on the sofa and put her head in her hands. Tears ran down her cheeks. “I failed,” she said.

Elena walked over and patted her on the shoulder, whispering something in her ear. Then she stood up. “I'll give you two a minute.”

When Sydney looked up at him with tears in those big brown eyes, he felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. Without hesitation he walked to the sofa, sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her. “I'm here, Syd. Let it out.”

Neither of them said a word for a long time. Finally, she looked up at him. “Are you happy now? Everything you said about sketch artists appears to be true. The jury must've all thought like you.”

He pulled his arm back. “I never criticized your work, Syd. You are a talented artist. And my issues with traditional sketch artists have nothing to do with you. I told you I made hasty generalizations based on one bad experience.”

She pushed up from the sofa. “Max, I did everything wrong. My job is to provide expert testimony. Credible and professional testimony. And I failed. The jury obviously believed that seeing Kevin Diaz on the news somehow influenced my drawing. In this instance, the fact that the sketch so closely resembled the defendant worked against me. The jury didn't believe I was skilled enough to draw that accurately based on witness statements alone. They had to have thought that I was basing it on outside influences.”

“You're not at fault, Sydney. You're great at your job. You know how difficult criminal convictions are. Beyond a reasonable doubt—that's our justice system. You can't let this impact how you feel about your professional abilities. And you should give yourself a bit of a break. You didn't exactly testify under normal circumstances, you know. There have been multiple attempts on your life.”

His words obviously didn't get through to her because she quickly replied, “How would you feel in my shoes? I know how seriously you take your job. So just sit back for a minute and think about that.”

She was hurting, and it killed him that he couldn't provide her with the comfort she needed. When he reached out to her, she pulled back.

“I'd like some time alone.” She took a step back and walked away.

He refused to let this erect a wall between them. Not after everything they'd been through together. He'd give her a little time to process it. But he definitely wasn't letting her go. He desperately wanted to be able to go back to their conversation in that diner and take back his comments about the reliability of sketch artists. She'd not been at the top of her game today, and it wasn't her fault. It was his. And that fact ate at him.

* * *

Sydney let the tears flow freely once she was alone in the bedroom. Because of her lackluster testimony, a murderer was now free. Back to his millions of dollars, fancy cars and his highly esteemed position in the community.

She had to give it to Mr. Pines. He'd done his job. Much better than she had done hers. She replayed the cross examination over and over in her head. What could she have said differently? More emphatically? What about her body language? Had the jury just not wanted to believe that a popular businessman could be capable of such a heinous crime?

She beat herself up because she hadn't performed at the level she expected of herself. She'd let the defense attorney shake her, and once the jury had seen that tiny flicker of uncertainty it had been good enough to create reasonable doubt.

It didn't help that she felt a bit sour toward Max. Even though she knew rationally she shouldn't, he'd been the one to start sowing the seeds of doubt in her mind. Then Mr. Pines had come in for the kill.

And now she felt utterly helpless. There was nothing she could do. Diaz couldn't be tried again for this crime because of double jeopardy. She could only pray he wouldn't kill again. But she'd done enough research in criminology to know that he likely would. Especially a powerful and egotistical man like he was. He'd gotten away with murder, so why not do it again? The thought sickened her.

She let out a sigh. So where did she go from here? Her thoughts went back to Max. Back to his proposition to serve as her personal bodyguard. She'd been serious about her condition. Unless they were affirmatively going to try to catch Rick, she wasn't going to let Max waste his career following her around each day. A battle with Rick could last a lifetime—until one of them got killed in the process.

Max probably had the wrong impression about the life she lived. The past couple of weeks had been frightening and dangerous, but normally her days were quiet. Yes, she met with witnesses regularly, but she didn't testify each week. Maybe once every couple months, if that often, and only in the major cases. Most of her work was performed quietly with local police or FBI and providing sketches to help them find the perpetrator.

She wondered if she'd have the nerve to get back onto the witness stand again. Failure was something she didn't handle well, and there was no way around it this time. She had failed. She could try to blame Max or Mr. Pines, but the fault rested solely on her shoulders.

Pushing that awful thought out of her mind, she got up from the bed and looked out the second floor window. Elena and Max were below her talking on the front steps—no doubt about what they were going to do with her.

What she really wanted to do was go home. Try to forget the past few days entirely. But she knew it was never that easy.
Lord, please give me the strength to get through this.
She paused in her prayer.
And, Lord, please guide me in what I need to do with Max.
She meant not only with regard to her protection but on a personal level, as well. A fresh wave of tears streamed down her cheeks.

She needed to get some air. She walked downstairs and out on to the front porch. Elena and Max turned to look at her.

“I'd like to take a walk,” she said. “I need to get out of the house.”

“I'll go with you,” Max said quickly.

“I'm going to head out.” Elena walked over to her and put her hands on Sydney's shoulders. “We'll figure this all out,” she said.

Sydney nodded, then Elena left the safe house.

“You ready?” Max asked.

“Yes, I just thought a walk would be nice. I'm tired of feeling so cramped up.”

They started walking down the neighborhood sidewalk lit only by dim streetlights. Beside her, she knew Max was alert.

“What were you and Elena talking about?” she asked him.

He hesitated, only a second, but she detected his reluctance and looked at him. “The local police found Brian,” he said.

“Oh, no!” She assumed the worst.

“He was on the side of the interstate. He's alive but has been badly beaten. He's been hospitalized.”

“I'm so sorry. That happened because of me.”

“It wasn't your fault. It was Ward and East River who are responsible.”

Max could tell her that all night, but it was difficult for her to accept. “What are Elena's current thoughts on my situation?”

“She agrees that you're still at risk from Ward and East River. But her hands are tied. Her bosses have made the decision. The US Marshals' assignment is over.”

“Have you given any more thought to what I said about getting Rick put away once and for all?”

“I'm still thinking about it.” He grabbed her hand as they walked.

This time she didn't pull away and enjoyed the warmth of his hand in hers. “In the meantime, where do we go from here?”

“I'm not leaving your side, that's where. Tom has secured us use of the safe house for one week. That's all he can do from the FBI side. So we need a plan for what to do after that.”

“Why can't we just go back to our lives?”

“We've been over that. I can't let you just go on as if nothing has happened. And I surely can't just go back to my job knowing you're in danger.”

“But that's what you signed up for, Max. You're a US marshal now. You protect witnesses and those in the witness protection program. I'm neither at this point.”

He stopped walking and turned her to face him. “Sydney, I hear exactly what you're saying. But since I met you none of the things that used to matter seem to matter quite as much as you do. Especially if it's a life without you in it.”

“What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that I've really grown to care about you. And nothing will stand in the way of me protecting you. Not because it's my job or out of some sense of professional duty. But because I want you in my life. I want you to be safe. I need you to be safe.”

Emotions flushed through her. To hear Max say those words frightened her. Because she didn't know if she could ever open up to a man again. To trust and to love. Even if the man was Max. Someone she'd actually started to trust. But she'd been fighting her way back from vulnerability. And while Max and Rick were nothing alike, she still dealt with the emotional pain of what Rick had done to her. Those scars were as bad as the physical ones. “Max, I don't even know what to say.” She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulder. “Max, you've been a great friend to me. But I also refuse to be the reason you throw away your career.”