Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(83)
“I’ll stay here with Brynn.”
“You sure? Isn’t she in court?”
She was, along with two dedicated agents and a sheriff’s deputy, but Erik wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m sure.”
“Okay. How’s it going there?”
“Quiet.”
Too quiet.
Erik lifted the binoculars again, unsure why he felt that way, but he did. Something was wrong. The air was too hot, too still, too saturated with sunlight. The conditions felt ripe for . . . something. He didn’t know.
Jeremy picked up on his tension.
“Stay alert,” he told Erik.
“Roger that.”
“THE DEFENSE calls Joseph Rivas.”
Surprise flickered across Conlon’s face, but he quickly covered it. Brynn had done some haystacking of her own, and she could see the prosecutor hadn’t expected her to call one of Justin’s friends, who had at no time mentioned seeing Justin on the night of the murder.
Joseph Rivas was sworn in. The lanky nineteen-year-old wore black jeans—no rips, per Brynn’s advice—and a belt to keep them from falling down his hips.
“Mr. Rivas, could you please tell us where you were on the night of March fifth?”
He cleared his throat and nodded. “I was at Justin Sebring’s house playing Call of Duty.”
“And was Justin there with you?”
“No, ma’am.”
It was the only time Brynn didn’t mind being called ma’am, because it made her witness seem respectful.
“What time did you arrive at Justin’s house?”
“Eight fifteen. I went over straight after work.”
“I see. And who answered the door?”
“No one. I just walked in. Aunt Sylvia leaves it open.”
“Aunt Sylvia. Do you mean Sylvia Sebring, Justin’s mother? Is she your aunt?”
“No, everyone just calls her that. She lets us hang there, eat, play games. Whatever. We come and go.”
“Okay, so you arrived at the house, and did you see Justin’s mother, Sylvia?”
“Yeah, she was in the kitchen.”
“And where was Justin?”
“She said he was out watching the ball game—”
“Objection, hearsay.” Conlon stood up.
Linden looked at Brynn. “Sustained.”
“Was Justin there when you arrived?” Brynn asked.
“No.”
“Were you surprised not to see him there?”
“No. I’d seen him earlier at work. He told me he was going to Perez’s girlfriend’s place to watch basketball that night.”
“Mr. Rivas, where do you work?”
“Over at Chicken Stop. The one on Bissell Street.”
“And you’d seen Justin there earlier that day?”
He nodded.
Brynn smiled. “Could you please answer yes or no, for the court reporter?”
He glanced at the judge. “Sorry. Yes. He came in at lunch, and we talked while I rang up his food.”
“I see. And could you tell us what you wear to work, Mr. Rivas?”
Conlon stood. “Objection, relevance.”
“Your Honor, the relevance will become clear in a moment.”
Linden nodded. “Overruled.”
“Mr. Rivas? What do you wear to work?”
“A red T-shirt with the Chicken Stop logo on the front. It’s a yellow chicken.”
“Before you worked at Chicken Stop, did you work at any other fast-food restaurants?”
“Burger Shack.”
“And did you have a uniform there, too?”
He nodded. “A blue T-shirt with—”
“Objection, relevance.” Conlon sounded annoyed now.
“Your Honor, as I said, the relevance will become clear momentarily.” She shot Conlon a look.
“Soon, Ms. Holloran. Overruled.”
“Thank you. Did either of your employers give you the shirt you’re required to wear at work?”
“No, ma’am. I mean, they gave it to me, but they docked the money out of my first paycheck.”
“And how many uniform shirts do you have for your current job?”
“One.”
“Only one?”
“Yeah, I have to wash it at night if it gets dirty.”
“And have you ever lost your work shirt?”
“No. I keep up with it.”
“If you ever did lose it, would your employer buy you a new one, or would the new shirt come out of your paycheck, too?”
Conlon stood and made a show of tossing down his pencil. “Your Honor, once again, the state objects. This line of questioning has no bearing whatsoever on—”
“Sustained. Move on, Ms. Holloran.”
Brynn glanced at the jurors. They looked confused, but at least Conlon’s objections had drawn attention to her questions.
“Mr. Rivas, you said Justin dropped by Chicken Stop earlier in the day and mentioned plans to watch a basketball game with his friend, so was it odd to go to Justin’s house that night, knowing he wouldn’t be there?”
“No. Like I said, we hang there.”