20th Victim (Women's Murder Club #20)(72)

He said, “First we see the Chevy speeding through the light, and we take off after him.”

He stopped the video as the Chevy slowed.

“What’s happening here is that the driver is going ninety, and that green minivan in front of him is full of kids and going about forty. For all the horn blowing, the van doesn’t speed up.”

Scarborough started the film again.

“Now the Chevy is forced to slow down. The van is crawling in front of him and traffic is flowing on his right and left sides. Here’s where it all goes down. I pull into the traffic on the left, speed ahead, and see daylight between the back of the van and front of the Chevy.”

Scarborough paused the video to make sure the jurors got a fix on the next move.

Scarborough said, “I make a hard right in front of the Chevy. It’s a tight squeeze, but I’m just trying to stop the guy. He T-bones our cruiser, hitting in the rear compartment, and we all come to a stop.”

Scarborough explained the action in the last part of the video.

“That’s Officer Morton walking over to the driver’s side of the Chevy, ordering the driver to step out of the car. But what Morton can’t see is that the passenger door opens and a tall man in black clothes gets out.

“I can’t see his face,” Scarborough said. “I’ve watched this video so many times, but the crash put our car at an angle to the Chevy, and this guy walks out of the shot. I’ve got less than a second of his profile. He resembles a dangerous criminal I’ve seen on FBI posters, but ‘resemble’ isn’t enough for a positive ID.”

Scarborough’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and let the video roll.

“He walks around the Chevy to where Todd Morton is standing with his back to him, talking to the driver.

“Here. It’s painful to watch. The gunman opens up on Todd. He goes down, and then the son of a bitch fires at the cruiser. At me.

“The dash cam catches me as I get out of the cruiser and go toward Todd, and I’m calling for an ambulance and traffic is going nuts, and by then the shooter has evicted the old man from his RAV4 and takes off.”

Scarborough hit Pause again and said, “At this point Clay Warren gets out of the Chevy with his hands up, and I direct him to put his hands on the roof and not to move. I cuff him. Pat him down. He wasn’t armed. The ambulance arrived fast, but Todd was dead from the time he hit the ground.”

Yuki asked for the lights to go on. Several people in the gallery were crying, and one person left her seat and pushed open the door.

Yuki said, “I know everyone here feels for you and Todd Morton’s family. What can you tell us about your late partner?”

Scarborough sighed and spoke for several emotional moments about Morton, lauding him and stating that neither of them had ever been involved in a shooting before.

“You said you couldn’t identify the shooter?”

“His features are regular. He wore sunglasses, and his jacket had a high collar. Mostly, he was on the move, standing away from me or half away from me, and then he was shooting at me. Things were happening fast.”

Judge Rabinowitz asked defense counsel if he had any questions for the officer, and Zac Jordan said that he did not. Yuki thanked Officer Scarborough and asked him to step down.

Rabinowitz said, “Ms. Castellano. Please call your next witness.”

“We have no other witnesses, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Jordan?”

“I have a character witness, Your Honor.”

“In that case, let’s take a brief recess … uh, a half hour. And then after your witness, Counselor, we’ll hear your closing arguments.”





CHAPTER 105





I SNATCHED UP the receiver of my ringing phone.

Conklin said, “I’m on Fell Street outside the entrance to the jazz center. You’re right again, Boxer.”

“We got a break?”

“Black Taurus with a one-eighty-degree view of the entrance to the jazz center and a surprise inside the car.”

“Don’t make me beg.”

“Try not to take all the fun out of this.”

“Fine. Pleeease, Richie. Tell me.”

“Good enough. I found a shell casing under the gas pedal. I’ll stay here until CSI comes with the flatbed. A uni is taking tag numbers up and down the street.”

“Good work, Rich.”

As I waited impatiently for my partner to return, I looked for Brady. He wasn’t in the bullpen. He wasn’t in Jacobi’s old office on five. His assistant told me he was in a meeting out of the office. And then he walked through the squad room door.

“I was with the ME,” Brady said, speaking of Claire’s stand-in. “Where’s Conklin?”

“Right here,” he said, coming through the gate.

Brady said, “Follow me.”

Once we were seated in his office, Brady said, “Close the door, will ya?”

Conklin reached behind him and swung it shut.

I was dying to start the meeting with what we knew. A witness to the massacre at the jazz center had come forward. She had taken pictures of the probable shooter. The photo had been vetted by Stempien, who had stated with 95 percent certainty that the man in the picture was Barkley. Conklin had found a shell casing that had gone with the car back to the lab, and the odds were good that it would match the caliber of the rounds in the three dead men.