21st Birthday (Women's Murder Club #21)(58)

Nick nudged her with a knee under the table.

The gallery that had been buzzing softly went quiet.

Judge Passarelli said, “Okay everyone. Settle down. No talking to each other or anyone on pain of removal from the courtroom. There will be a lunch break at around noon. Anyone who thinks they will need a bathroom break should leave now and come back at one. Any questions? Good.

“ADA Castellano. Ready with your opening statement?”





CHAPTER 76





CINDY THOMAS HAD BEEN WAITING for this day since Kathleen Wyatt had crashed into her office, wild-eyed and shrill, demanding attention for her missing daughter — who had only been missing for a few hours.

Kathleen’s instincts were sharp.

Cindy had done the right thing by getting Lindsay involved.

And the whole rotten story had unspooled from there: Lorrie, Misty, Wendy, Susan, and last, Tara with her throat slashed and still strapped into the passenger seat of her Volvo.

Starting today, Cindy’s job was to report this trial daily. She knew her column would be lifted and reprinted elsewhere or rewritten and rerun in all forms of media around the globe. If Yuki’s argument won over the jury, Lucas Burke would be convicted on three counts of murder.

He would never be free again.

The judge called on Yuki to make her opening statement, and Cindy had a pretty good view of her dear friend walking over to the jury box.

Yuki said good morning and introduced herself to the twelve jurors and three alternates, a total of eight women and seven men. Cindy thought the more women the better, and in this case the foreman was also a woman.

Yuki stood in front of the jury box, her hands at her sides and said, “I want to bring you to a Monday morning in Lucas and Tara Burke’s small house on Dublin Street. According to the defendant, he and his wife have a fight. Lucas is angry that Tara is spending too much money on clothes and trifles. Afterwards, he describes this altercation to the police as a shouting, door-slamming kind of fight. Nothing physical.

“There’s a security camera mounted above the front door of the Burke house, and when we show you the footage you will see that on the morning of this fight, Mr. Burke gets into his silver Audi and drives north on Dublin Street at high speed. Twenty minutes later, Tara Burke, age twenty, leaves the house with their sixteen-month-old baby girl, Lorrie Annette Burke. She also has three bags; computer, diaper, and an overnight-sized bag. The tape shows Tara getting into her red Volvo, and after she secures the baby into the car seat and buckles herself into the driver’s seat, she drives south on Dublin Street, in the opposite direction her husband has taken.

“Once Tara drives out of sight of the camera, she and Lorrie are never seen alive again.”

Cindy watched as Yuki paused to take in the jurors’ expressions, and then she continued her gripping narrative.

“Records and witnesses tell us that Lucas Burke arrives at Sunset Park Prep before eight that morning. He remains at the school, teaching his classes, meeting with students. Records also show that at ten after eleven, he calls his wife from his cell phone and she answers. Their call lasts just under three minutes.

“What was said? Were apologies exchanged? Were they accepted? Did Mr. Burke arrange to meet his wife after school, and did they in fact meet? Mr. Burke has told the police that he apologized to Tara and said he would see her at the end of the day, but that Tara and Lorrie did not come home.”

A bout of coughing came from the gallery, reverberating around the room. Yuki used the moment to return to the counsel table, where she sipped from a glass of water and let the last sentence hang.

Cindy wrote down, “Tara and Lorrie were not seen alive again.” She was recording the entire proceedings on her phone, but that last known communication was a standout subhead. And it bracketed Tara and Lorrie’s last living moments that morning.

The coughing had stopped and Yuki again addressed the jury. “Tara and Lorrie did not come home that night or ever again. At six fifteen on Wednesday morning, Lorrie’s small body was found washed up on Baker Beach.”





CHAPTER 77





YUKI’S EYES WERE DRAWN to the female juror in the second-row left side of the jury box.

Five minutes into the opening, the pretty young woman had a wad of tissues in her hands and tears in her eyes. Yuki knew from questioning her during voir dire that juror number three had a baby at home.

Colossal overconfidence on Newt’s part not to exclude her.

Yuki dropped her eyes to the front row and, having summarized the last known sighting of Tara and Lorrie Burke, said, “The same day, after the discovery of Lorrie’s body, Mr. Burke tells the SFPD that the house was empty when he came home the night before, that he watched TV and turned off the lights at ten.

“So, I ask a question that has not been satisfactorily answered. Where was Mr. Burke after three thirty on Monday when he left school? He says he took a long drive down the coast so he could think about his marriage and his life.

“Tara and Lorrie Burke died that night and their bodies later washed up from the ocean. The water washed away most of the evidence, so we will never know exactly what happened. But this we know for sure …

“When Lucas Burke comes home Monday night, Tara and Lorrie are not there and they are absent all night and the following day. Yet we know that Mr. Burke does not call his wife beyond the one three-minute call I’ve cited. He does not call the police to report Tara and Lorrie missing. Wednesday morning, he goes to work and is interrupted in class by the head of school, who has to deliver terrible news. A baby girl, about sixteen months old, has washed up on Baker Beach.