The People vs. Alex Cross (Alex Cross #25)(61)

Binx had replied to every question about the drug by taking the Fifth.

“Tripping on ecstasy doesn’t get your client off,” Wills said to Anita as she packed away some files.

“No?” she said. “Fortunately, a jury gets to make that decision.”

“No tainted tape, no causality. Even you can see that.”

Anita gave him a blank expression. “Save it for your close.”

Athena Carlisle said, “Given the videos, are you open to talking plea bargain? Dr. Cross might get out in time to meet his great-grandkids.”

Anita glanced at me. I shook my head.

Carlisle puffed her cheeks, then blew out air. “We tried.”

“Suit yourself,” Wills said, and he chuckled as he left. “But I hear it’s hell for an ex-cop in prison.”

Naomi, Bree, my dad, and I ate takeout pulled-pork sandwiches in a conference room. Even though Anita had scored big points with her cross-examination, we were a somber, focused bunch.

For the first time in a week I felt jurors five and eleven leaning a bit my way, or at least developing some skepticism regarding the prosecution’s case. But Wills had been right. The ecstasy might be a mitigating factor, but it wouldn’t be enough to acquit me of two murders and an attempted murder.

We were back in court with two minutes to spare. Anita was already there.

“We good?” I asked.

She leaned over to me, murmured, “Pray for a knockout.”

“And David slew Goliath,” I said before the bailiff called, “All rise.”

Judge Larch looked considerably less agitated when she retook the bench and called the court to order.

“Ms. Marley,” Larch said, “do you wish to cross-examine Mr. Watkins now, or does the defense have its own witnesses in mind?”

“Defense witness, Your Honor,” Anita said. “We call Ali Cross to the stand.”

I twisted in my seat in time to see Ali enter the courtroom holding my dad’s hand with Jannie and Nana Mama behind them. My boy was in his Sunday best: gray pants, an ironed white shirt, and a paisley bow tie. Juror eleven smiled seeing him.

At the bar, Nana Mama whispered something in her great-grandson’s ear, and he nodded. Ali did not look at me or Anita before pushing open the gate and walking confidently to the witness stand.

Wills said, “Your Honor, the defense gave us no notice of this witness.”

“Ali is Dr. Cross’s son, Your Honor,” Anita said.

Judge Larch looked skeptical. “And he has business before this court?”

“Yes, Your Honor, he has a few things to say.”

The judge peered over at Ali, who was standing in the witness box now.

“How old are you, Ali?”

“Nine, but I’m in fifth grade already.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“Washington Latin.”

Larch smiled. “Good for you. Swear him in.”

Afterward, the bailiff had to get pads for the witness chair so Ali could sit higher and be seen easier by the jury.

Once he’d settled in, Anita said, “Ali, do you normally do what your father tells you to do? By that I mean, when he gives you a direct order, do you obey it?”

“Yes, ma’am. I try.”

“But you defied one of his direct orders recently, didn’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“Objection,” Wills said. “Your Honor, where is the relevance of this?”

Anita looked at him, said, “The Court is about to find out.”

“Get to it, Ms. Marley,” Larch said.

“What did you do that your father didn’t want you to do?” Anita said.

Ali said, “My dad told me not to look at the videos of the shootings in that factory, but I secretly looked at them on YouTube.”

“Once?”

“No, like a hundred and seventy times.”

That provoked some nervous laughter, and I could tell juror five, the retired engineer with the hunched back, did not like the idea of a nine-year-old boy looking at those videos even once, let alone one hundred and seventy times.

“Why did you watch it so many times?” Anita said.

“To figure out where the guns went so Dad wouldn’t go to prison.”

Anita glanced over at Wills and then at the jury. “Did you figure out where the guns went?”

“I think so.”

“Objection,” Athena Carlisle said. “Your Honor, we’ve been through this. Real experts have looked at the videos and found nothing wrong with them. We’re expected to believe a nine-year-old discovered something that they didn’t?”

“Ms. Marley?” Judge Larch said.

“Let the boy speak, Your Honor,” Anita said in a reasonable tone. “Echoing what you said when you allowed the videos to be introduced, the prosecution is free to rebut if Ali is wrong.”

The judge adjusted her glasses and then looked over at Ali. “Did you really figure it out?”

“I think so,” he said.

“Let’s hear it.”

Naomi put the videos up on the screen and gave Ali a remote control. Stopping the three videos in strategic places in much the same way the prosecution had made its case against me, Ali was able to show the jury how the lighting changed in the videos, how it grew slightly dimmer before each victim appeared and then brightened considerably just before I shot.