My Sister's Grave (Tracy Crosswhite, #1)(75)

“Detective Crosswhite, would you describe the events that took place August 21, 1993, for the court?”

Tracy felt her emotions welling and paused to gather herself. “Sarah and I were competing in the Washington State Cowboy Action Shooting Championship,” she said. “We were actually tied for the lead going into the final shooting stage, which was to shoot ten targets alternating using both hands. I missed a target, which is an automatic five-second penalty. In essence, I’d lost.”

“So Sarah won?”

“No. Sarah missed two targets.” Tracy smiled at the recollection. “Sarah hadn’t missed two targets in two years, let alone in one stage.”

“She did it on purpose.”

“Sarah knew that my boyfriend, Ben, was coming to pick me up that evening, that he planned to propose at our favorite restaurant.” Tracy paused and sipped her water, returning the glass to the table beside the chair. “I was upset because I knew Sarah had let me win. It colored my judgment.”

“In what way?”

“The weather forecast was bad. Heavy rains and thunderstorms. Ben picked me up at the competition in order to make our reservation.” Tracy felt the words sticking in her throat.

Dan helped her out. “So Sarah had to drive your truck home alone.”

“I should have insisted that she come with us. I never saw her again.”

Dan paused, as if out of respect. Quietly he asked, “Was there a prize associated with winning?”

Tracy nodded. “A silver-plated belt buckle.”

O’Leary retrieved the pewter-colored buckle from the evidence table and handed it to her, identifying it by its designated evidence number. “The medical examiner testified that she uncovered this buckle in the grave with Sarah’s remains. Can you explain how it could have got there if you’d won the buckle that day?”

“Because I gave Sarah the buckle.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Like I said, I knew that Sarah let me win. So before I left I gave the buckle to her.”

“And that’s the last time you saw it?”

She nodded. She’d never contemplated that the brief moment she’d looked back through the window of the truck cab and seen Sarah standing in the rain, wearing Tracy’s black Stetson, would be the last time she would ever see her sister. Tracy had thought about that moment often over the years, the fleeting nature of life and the unpredictability of the future even from one moment to the next. She regretted that she had been angry with Sarah that afternoon for letting her win. She’d allowed her personal pride to get the better of her, not knowing that Sarah’s intentions had been altruistic, not wanting Tracy to depart on one of the biggest nights of her life feeling bad for coming in second.

Tracy fought against it, but a tear escaped the corner of her eye. She pulled a tissue from the box on a side table and dabbed at it. Some seated in the gallery had also begun to wipe away tears and blow their noses.

Dan gave Tracy a moment to regain her composure, acting as if he was searching his notes. Back at the podium, he asked, “Detective Crosswhite, would you tell the court what your sister was wearing the last time you saw her on August 21, 1993?”

Clark rose unexpectedly and came out from behind counsel table. “Your Honor, the State objects that the question by its very nature calls for the witness to speculate and therefore would be unreliable.”

Dan met Clark before the bench. “The objection is premature, Your Honor. The State can certainly object to any particular question asked and cross-examine Detective Crosswhite concerning her recollection. That is not a valid reason to bar her testimony altogether.”

Clark sounded almost exasperated. “With all due respect to Your Honor’s ability to weed out such evidence, the State is concerned about an appellate record that includes speculation and supposition.”

“And the State is free to voice those objections to preserve the appellate record,” Dan said.

“I agree, Mr. O’Leary,” Judge Meyers said, “but we all know this case has already been played out in the media far more than I would prefer, and I appreciate the State’s concern about the record.”

Clark jumped in. “Your Honor, the State would request an opportunity to voir dire the witness to see if there is any basis, independent of what evidence has been offered during this hearing, that this witness can recall after more than twenty years the specifics of what her sister was wearing on a particular day in August, 1993.”

Meyers rocked in his chair, eyes narrowed with intrigue. Tracy was not surprised when he said, “I’ll allow the State to voir dire the witness.”

In her experience, when a judge knew it was likely that the outcome of a hearing would be headed to the Court of Appeals, he erred on being conservative in his rulings in order to limit the grounds for the appeal. By allowing Clark to examine Tracy’s recollection, he was eliminating Clark’s objection as a possible basis for the State to argue to the Court of Appeals that Meyers’s ruling had been wrong. He thus minimized the possibility of having the matter remanded back into his lap.

Dan returned to his seat beside House, who leaned over and whispered something. Whatever House said, Dan did not respond.

Clark smoothed his tie, this one adorned with trout, as he approached the podium. “Ms. Crosswhite, do you recall what you were wearing August 21, 1993?”