Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Reese stands up and walks to the stand, confidence radiating off of him. The prosecutor left holes that a lesser attorney would potentially miss. Reese will nail them all. “Mr. Monts,” he says. “How tall do the forensics indicate the shooter to be?”
I check off one of the items on my list.
“That’s inconclusive,” Mr. Monts states. “The shooter was eye level with the victim who was sitting at the time of the bullet’s impact.”
“In other words, the shooter was sitting in front of the victim who was sitting on the couch in his den?”
“That’s my conclusion, yes,” Mr. Monts agrees.
“Objection,” the prosecutor shouts. “Leading the witness.”
Reese looks at the prosecutor and laughs, “I’ll rephrase.” He looks at Mr. Monts. “Were you made aware of the location of the body when it was found?”
“Yes.”
“Where was the body found, Mr. Monts?”
“On the couch in the den of his home,” he replies.
“And you know this how?” Reese asks.
“I was at the crime scene,” he supplies.
“You were at the crime scene. Forgive me for asking the obvious, but did you see the body?”
“Yes,” Mr. Monts states. “I did an extensive inspection.”
“Was there any indication of the sex of the shooter?” Reese asks.
I check off another one of my points.
“Nothing discernible.”
“I see,” Reese says. “And why is that?”
“Because the shooter was at eye level when they fired.”
“And you know this how?” Reese asks.
“The projection, entry and exit points of the bullet, as well as blood splatter.”
“Under what situation can you suggest the sex and height of a shooter?” Reese asks.
“That goes back to blood splatter, entry and exit points, and to that end, even the size of the weapon in a female’s versus male’s hand can impact entry point.”
“And with this weapon and the location of entry,” Reese says, “is there anything that indicates the shooter was male or female?”
“There was not.”
Reese continues to question him for another half hour before taking his seat. The prosecutor stands. “Mr. Monts, is there anything in your findings that rules out Dana Warren as the shooter?”
“There is not.”
Gabe reaches for my pen and writes, “Weak.”
And of course, I know he means the prosecutor. I take the pen and write, “The entire case is weak. The DA has a history of charging just to charge.”
Gabe nods as if he’s well aware of the problem. Of course he is. Reid has just finished suing the DA, and winning, over charging the wrong person, among a variety of other sins. A case that I’m writing a book about with Lori, and plan to release as soon as I know the DA can’t lash out at Reese, which means after the DA leaves office.
The rest of the morning continues on with Reese ruling the courtroom, but if Dana sees this as good news, and it is, she doesn’t show it. She’s thrumming her fingers on the table often and even thumping her foot. I write this down to ensure I warn Reese that it’s happening. Right about that time, Reese leans in toward Dana, and whispers to her, and her foot stops moving. I scratch out the note. He knew. He saw. Of course, he did. It makes her look uneasy in ways that she certainly has a right, but could also be read as a sign she’s guilty.
Finally, it’s lunchtime and the courtroom is adjourned. Reese turns and seeks me out, the look in his eyes warning me to be careful. The fact that this is where his head is now, tells me somehow, he’s performed like a master when he never really let go of his fears for my safety. I nod and he turns to follow his team out of the room. Once we’re at the door of the courtroom, Savage meets us.
“Any news from Reid on Debbie?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Savage says. “But I need you to come with me, Cat.” He looks at Gabe. “Alone. Reese wants to see her alone.”
“I’m going to the office to see what I can find out about Debbie anyway,” Gabe says, turning to me. “I’ll call you the minute I know what’s happening but I suspect Reid is behind closed doors with Debbie.” He pulls me to him and whispers, “Be safe. I’ll call you later.” He kisses my temple and leaves. He kissed my temple. I’m in the twilight zone.
Savage clears his throat. “Ready?”
“Yes. I’m ready.” We start walking and I grab my phone from my purse, quickly punching the auto-dial for Reid. When he doesn’t answer I dial his secretary.
“Hey, Cat,” Connie says and without me asking she adds, “He’s in the conference room with Debbie. He keeps leaving her in there and then going back.”
I puff out a breath. “He’s told you nothing?
“No, but he’s working some strategy. And his strategies work.”
“Okay. Thanks. If you hear anything—”
“I’ll call.” We disconnect, and I realize that we’ve walked to the side exit door. “I thought I was staying here and eating with Reese?”