Witness in the Dark (Love Under Fire #1)(83)
“I’m sorry I didn’t stop to get their names while they were shooting at me.”
The lawyer paused dramatically. “Are you married, Ms. Hutchinson?”
“No.”
“And yet, you are wearing a wedding ring. Another delusion, perhaps?”
She hiked her brows. “It’s just a ring.”
“What alias are you using at this time? Where do you live right now?” he asked quickly.
“Objection,” Hugh called. “Ms. Hutchinson is a federally protected witness. She does not have to answer that.”
“I want the record to show that under oath she raised her hand and gave her name as Samantha Hutchinson,” the lawyer boomed. “But Samantha Hutchinson is legally dead.”
The defense was losing, so the attorney was clearly grasping at straws. That was written all over the faces of the jury. They were firmly on her side.
Even so, his accusation hit home.
She’d known for months she was dead to the world, and probably long forgotten. But for some reason, it hit her anew at that moment.
She didn’t exist. My God.
She was no one.
“Objection! The witness is not on trial here,” Hugh said loudly. “Can we move on to the details of the night of the shooting? If defense counsel needs a reminder of who is on trial here, he’s sitting right next to you.”
Sam smiled at the district attorney. Go, Hugh.
But the other lawyer didn’t give up. “I’m sure the jury wants to know how credible the witness is before using her testimony to condemn an innocent man. A man who has served this country in war, and in upholding the laws others have fought and died to preserve.”
Sam wanted to throw up.
“Are you going to ask the witness a question, or should we excuse her?” the judge asked.
Sam hoped he’d let her step down, but of course he didn’t.
“The night of the alleged murder, you were working at a pizza shop?”
She took offense to that, but Hugh was already on his feet. “It wasn’t an alleged murder, your honor. Heather Riddell is truly dead.”
“Not just pretending to be dead, like Ms. Hutchinson?” The attorney tilted his head to the side as though he’d caught her in a lie.
“Didn’t we already discuss my death?” She looked up at the judge, who was scowling at the lawyer like he was ready to climb down from his bench and punch him.
“Indeed. So, you were working at a pizza shop, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And this pizza shop is owned by Arthur and Anthony Santiago?”
“Yes.” Where was he going with this?
“The same Santiago family that is known to be affiliated with the Boston mob?”
“Boston mob?” She looked at Hugh in confusion. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never even been to Boston.”
“But you worked for a mobster, so it’s possible you are being pressured into testifying against the good Congressman.”
Hugh got to his feet again. “Objection. There is absolutely no evidence Arthur and Anthony Santiago are part of any criminal organization, and it is pure slander to suggest such affiliation.”
She blinked a few times at the absurdity of the idea of Anthony being a gangster.
“Withdrawn. Tell me, Ms. Hutchinson, what did you spend the money you earned at this pizza shop on?”
“Excuse me?”
“Drugs, perhaps?”
“No. I don’t do drugs.”
“And yet, on the night of your fake death, you were parked on a street known for trafficking crack cocaine?”
“Objection!” Hugh said stiffly. “Again, facts not in evidence. Your honor, the witness is here for her testimony regarding what happened in the alley behind the pizza shop on the night of October tenth. Defense counsel’s questions are irrelevant and bordering on slanderous.”
“I agree,” said the judge. “The next question out of your mouth had better be about that night, or I will assume you have nothing pertinent to ask Ms. Hutchinson and she will be dismissed.”
“Very well.” The man straightened his tie. “The night Heather Riddell’s body was found in the alley, you say you were sitting on the ground behind the building?”
“Yes. Against the wall.”
“And you saw the car she was traveling in as it drove by?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I was looking at my phone at the time, and didn’t notice anything else until I heard her cry out.”
“You heard Ms. Riddell make a noise?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What kind of noise?”
Sam swallowed uncomfortably as she let the memory come. Hearing that sound was almost worse than hearing the gunshots. It was the definitive moment Heather was alive, and then she was not.
“The first sound was a scream. I looked up and saw her trying to get away from a man. Then she made a sound that was more like a whimpering cry.”
“Was it loud?”
“The first sound, yes. The second, not as loud.” She swallowed again.
“So, the scream was loud? Loud enough to cause you to look up to see what it was?”
“Yes.”
“Yet, no one else reported hearing anything in the alley that night. No loud scream or whimpering cry.”