Redress of Grievances (36 page)

Harriett
held Jess's eyes with her own as she began unbuttoning her shirt. Running her
hands under it she heard the quick intake of breath as her hands spread and
flattened against Jess's abdomen and ribs. "I want to be with you, Jess,
but you keep pushing me away."

"I
want you so much that it scares the hell out of me, Harriett. I never thought I
would meet anyone who could make me feel like this after Renee."

"I
can't be Renee for you, Jess."

"You
don't need to be. Renee is...dead."

"And
you're still alive. When are you going to forgive yourself being alive and
wanting to enjoy life again?"

Jess's
eyes penetrated Harriett's as if she were trying to see what was in her mind.
Her hands softly touched Harriett until they found their way into her jeans and
caressed her buttocks. Kissing her with a series of small teasing kisses, Jess
let her mouth wander as Harriett ran her hands through Jess's hair and pulled
her mouth back to her own. She couldn't remember ever wanting anyone so much
before, not even Alex.

HARRIETT
WAS AWAKENED in the gray pre-dawn by Jess's lips on her neck, and the feel of
her hand moving lightly over her hip. She rolled toward her and drew her into a
slow, lingering kiss. It had been so long, and her body reminded her how good
it could feel to be loved and desired.

"Don't
you ever get tired?" Jess asked between kisses.

"I'll
never get tired of you. I love the way you make me feel when you touch
me."

"Ah!
Then I don't have to ask if you'll still respect me in the morning."

"It
is morning," Harriett chuckled.

"Time
flies when...," Jess started with a grin.

"Shut
up and kiss me," Harriett growled seductively.

Jess
laughed and kissed her again.

"I'm
sorry, Harriett," she said as she stroked along Harriett's back, dreading
that they would soon have to leave the bed and dress for work.

"For
what?"

"I'm
sorry I didn't make love with you before now. I don't know what was wrong with
me. Scared, I guess."

"Well,
there is
definitely
nothing wrong with you. And you were more than worth
the wait."

Jess
pulled Harriett on top of her and swept her tousled hair away from her face.

"I'll
never let anyone hurt you, Harriett. I promise." She had promised to
always protect Renee and failed. She had promised to protect her younger
brother and also failed. But this time Jess was determined not to fail again.

"I
know, my love. Unfortunately, I need to grab a quick shower and get ready for
court." As Jess watched her naked body slide toward the edge of the bed,
Harriett looked over her shoulder and smiled. "I don't suppose I could
convince you to wash my back for me?"

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

HARRIETT
SAT PATIENTLY through the first two days of the prosecution's presentation to
the jury. So far, everything Lassiter had offered was undeniable. The rifle
belonged to the Taggarts, and Sharon's fingerprints were on the barrel and
stock. However, as Harriett pointed out, it wasn't unusual that her prints were
on the weapon since it was in her home, and she had used it. The firearms
expert from the state forensics lab testified that the rifle had been recently
cleaned, and there was no way to determine when it was last fired by Sharon or
anyone else, for that matter.

While
she was actually enjoying picking at Lassiter's witnesses' testimony, she knew
the strongest State evidence against her client hadn't been presented yet.
Smiling to herself, she was looking forward to her cross-examination of
Detective James Riley. She listened attentively to the testimony of Emma
Sanchez, purportedly an eyewitness to the Kaufmann shooting. Mrs. Sanchez was
an older woman, in her late sixties, but had no trouble pointing directly at
Sharon and identifying her as the woman she had seen leaving the embankment
near the freeway carrying a rifle. In her cross-examination, Harriett used a
map of the area of the crime and asked Mrs. Sanchez to point out where she had
been when she witnessed the events of that February evening. Then she had an
enlarged photograph of the location, taken at the same approximate time of
night as the crime, displayed for the jury. The picture showed an individual on
the embankment, and from the location already pointed out by Mrs. Sanchez, it
would have been virtually impossible to identify the woman in the picture. In
fact, it could have been a man with long hair. Despite Harriett's best efforts,
Mrs. Sanchez adamantly refused to alter her testimony or to question her
identification of the defendant. Deciding that nothing more was to be gained by
badgering the woman, Harriett ended her questioning, but left the enlarged
photo on an easel facing the jury.

AS
JAMES RILEY readjusted his body in the witness chair and took a drink of water
from the glass next to him, he watched Harriett flipping through her legal pad.
He hated her, but he was determined not to allow his feelings to distract him
from answering her questions. He suspected she might try to provoke him into an
outburst that would cause the jury to regard him as a less than credible
witness. In his experience, that was always the case when police officers
testified. The key would be to remain calm.

"Detective
Riley," Harriett said rather quietly, forcing Riley to lean forward
slightly in order to hear her. "You were assigned to the task force formed
to investigate the freeway killings after the third shooting, weren't
you?"

"That's
correct."

"Did
you ask for the assignment?"

"No,
I was pulled from another case to work on the task force."

"And
your particular area of investigation for the task force was initially the
third case. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"How
many of the shell casings were recovered from the shootings?"

"There
were six. One at the site of each shooting, except one. No casing was found at
one of the scenes, and it was assumed the perpetrator policed the area before
leaving."

"In
your experience, isn't it rather atypical for a woman to have committed crimes
such as the ones my client has been charged with?"

"It's
a little unusual," Riley agreed.

"Isn't
it true that most crimes committed by women are generally spur of the moment
crimes of passion or self-defense?"

"Objection,"
Lassiter said. "The witness is not an expert in the psychology of criminals."

"He's
a trained detective with nearly twenty years experience in dealing with a wide
variety of crimes and criminals," Harriett argued. Glancing at Riley, it
struck her that she was actually calling him an experienced and competent
police officer.

"Overruled.
The witness may answer the question," Landers intoned.

Looking
back at her old nemesis, Harriett said, "Detective?"

"Yes,
ma'am, the task force initially believed that the freeway shootings were
committed by a man."

"Detective
Riley," she continued. "You testified that the shell casings that
were introduced into evidence today were purchased by my client. Is that
correct?"

"Yes,
it is. She was positively identified by the clerk who sold them."

"When
items, such as ammunition or shell casings, are submitted to the state
laboratory, the police officer who delivers them signs a chain of custody
voucher, don't they?"

"That's
the procedure," Riley smiled.

"And
after it's tested, the evidence is then held in the evidence locker at the lab
until it's needed for trial or to match to other similar evidence. True?"

"Yes."

"Approach
the witness, your Honor?" Harriett asked.

Landers
motioned her forward, and she picked up a copy of the chain of custody voucher as
she walked toward the witness stand. Leaning her elbows on the railing, she
handed the paper to Riley. "Is this the chain of custody voucher for the
shell casings in the Taggart case, detective?"

"It
would appear to be," Riley said as he looked down at the sheet.

"Could
you please read the name of the last person who had possession of the shell
cartridges that were tested by the state lab before this trial began?"

"James
Riley," the detective said clearly.

"Why
didn't this evidence remain in the evidence locker with other pieces of
evidence?"

"I
was instructed to take it to a second evidence locker by Mr. Lassiter,"
Riley answered, nodding his head toward the prosecution table.

"How
long was this evidence in the prosecution's possession?"

"A
couple of months. Until we made an arrest in the case."

"Isn't
it true, detective, that Mr. Lassiter presented the defense with fraudulent
evidence during the initial disclosure?"

"Objection,
your Honor. Is defense counsel accusing the prosecutor's office of
something?" Lassiter asked.

Turning
to face her opponent, Harriett smiled slightly. "Perish the thought, Mr.
Lassiter." A wave of snickers and giggles swept through the gallery as
Judge Landers tapped his gavel to restore quiet to his courtroom.

"Overruled,"
he said. "Continue."

Returning
her attention to Riley, Harriett continued, "The bullet the defense
originally received, Detective Riley. Was that from one of the scenes?"

"Yes,
the Kaufmann scene. It was located in a telephone pole nearby."

"Was
it later determined that that particular bullet was not related to the
crime?"

"Yes."

"Thank
you, detective. I have no further question for this witness, your Honor,"
Harriett said.

"Redirect,
Mr. Lassiter?" Landers asked.

"No,
your Honor," Lassiter responded.

At
the end of the third day of testimony, Sean Lassiter rested the State's case.
Harriett knew he was simply waiting for her to begin presenting evidence to
support Sharon Taggart's claim of mental defect. It seemed to Harriett that he
had actually presented a rather mediocre case based on the evidence he had at
hand. She had managed to raise some points of doubt with each witness, even
though it still might not have done enough damage to win.

"IS
MS. MARKHAM in?" Jess smiled as she stood at Phyllis's desk.

"They
got in from court about half an hour ago, Ms. Raines," Phyllis smiled
back. "They're in the kitchen."

"Rough
day?" Jess asked as she walked into the small kitchen area of Harriett's
offices. Harriett had already changed from the suit she wore to court, her bare
feet propped up on a kitchen chair. Nick had shed his jacket and tie and was
concentrating on a diet soda.

"The
rough days haven't gotten here yet," Harriett answered as she stood and
joined Jess, kissing her lightly. "Just the preliminary wrangling.
Drink?"

"I'll
get it," Jess said crossing toward the refrigerator. "How did things
go in court today?"

"Not
bad. We didn't hear anything we didn't expect," Harriett said as Jess
pulled out a chair and straddled it, resting her arms on its back. Harriett ran
her hand down Jess's back and smiled. "And how was your day?"

"Not
bad. The lab lifted a couple of partial prints from the car that followed Lacey
last night, but the vehicle was stolen. They're running them through the
system."

"What
about my truck?" Harriett inquired.

"They
found a few smudged fingerprints on both the driver's side window and door
panel. It will take a while for the DNA test results to come in on the semen on
the back quarter panel," Jess said matter-of-factly. "Hopefully,
we'll get something from the prints."

Harriett
shivered slightly. "That's disgusting. When could anyone have possibly
done that? Surely I would have noticed something like that."

Jess
took a long drink of her soda and cleared her throat. "I stopped by
Lacey's school earlier this morning and talked to her and Devon about it. It
seemed harmless enough at the time, but apparently they enjoyed some private
time together before they picked up dinner last night. Neither of them saw
anything, but I'm sure someone might have followed them."

Harriett
sat up quickly. "What are you saying, Jess? That some pervert watched
them?"

"I
don't know anything for a fact, Harriett. It's all purely speculation until we
catch him. But, yes, I think someone approached the truck, observed whatever
they were doing and became aroused."

"They
could have both been killed," Harriett seethed. "And for what?
Teenage petting!"

"They
couldn't have known this could happen, Harriett," Nick said. "They're
too young to think about things like that."

"That
doesn't excuse anything, Nick," Harriett said angrily. "This is
inexcusable."

Harriett
stalked off to her office and slammed the door.