Chapter 8
Without the slightest glance in his direction, Cap took the stand and was sworn in.
He made no acknowledgment of Dane, of the fact that he was about to testify against someone who’d been his best friend, someone who’d saved his skin and the other way around.
Cap showed not even a flicker of emotional turmoil.
Dane knew because he looked hard for it, bored a stare through to Cap’s soul.
There was no way Cap couldn’t feel it. But he gave no indication whatsoever.
“Tell us what happened.” Philimino puffed up as if he were on stage. “On the day that Whitey Nash was murdered. Begin with your arrival at Shana George’s hospital room.”
Dane tried to understand why Cap said the words he said, why he told the DA when asked why he’d arrested Dane Blaise, that it was because it was his professional opinion that he murdered Whitey Nash.
Kimble rocketed from her seat shouting, “Objection.”
Judge Katz spat, “Sustained. The jury will ignore the witness’s testimony. It is your job to decide whether Mr. Blaise murdered Whitey Nash. Not anyone else’s.” She gave Philimino the evil eye and then turned to Cap.
“Refrain from drawing conclusions, Captain Lynch, or I’ll charge you with contempt.”
It was then that Cap’s eyes darted to Dane’s, and for just a flash, for that one moment Dane locked on and saw what was inside him.
Or thought he did. But if he had to describe what he saw, he couldn’t.
There was too much going on, too much conflict.
Maybe he couldn’t trust himself to see what he thought he saw because he wanted to see it, wanted to see the regret, the wavering, the pain.
The pain must have been his own pain reflected in his former best friend’s brief glimpse. Dane turned away from the stand and didn’t listen to the rest of the testimony. Whether it was wise or not he didn’t know, but he couldn’t see the point.
After blocking out the world for the duration of Cap’s testimony in a way that his Zen master would have envied, Dane switched to full intense attention to the witness stand as Shana was sworn in.
Vowing to himself that Philimino had better not bully her or he’d be visited by Dane’s dark side at some later date when he least expected it, he realized he had no cause for concern.
Shana looked at the DA with her warrior princess face, more than ready for battle.
That relaxed sensation took him again and he sat back to enjoy the show.
Leaning in to Kimble, he said, “You’re in for a treat. Shana’s going to tear him apart.”
Kimble nodded. “I have no doubt.”
The DA began with routine questions and then pounced.
“Were your eyes opened or closed when Whitey Nash walked into your hospital room?”
“Opened.”
“Were you on pain medication?”
“Yes.”
“Were you groggy?”
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“Objection. Witness answered the question.”
“Sustained. She’s your witness, Mr. Philimino. You can’t treat her like a hostile witness.”
“May I approach the bench, Your Honor? I believe I can and should treat Ms. George as a hostile witness.”
The judge wore a face as stern as any school principal Dane had ever seen as she waved Philimino and Kimble to her bench.
Under her breath, Kimble said, “Oh no. I was afraid of this. Poop on a stick.”
She didn’t need to explain to Dane what it meant.
Philimino was going to seek and obtain permission to nail Shana to the wall in brutal fashion because of her relationship to him.
Of course. It was the way it always was.
Cold cracked his chest and spread through him until he shut everything down. It was the only way.
After Katz granted permission for Philimino to proceed with Shana as if she were the enemy of the state, Dane watched, or gave the appearance of watching.
Remembering he should give moral support, he kept his eyes on Shana, on her eyes, zeroed in on her essence, her strength.
But he did his damnedest not to listen to a word Philimino said.
Even so, snippets bled through like strikes to his soul. Isn’t it true Dane promised to kill him . . . Isn’t it true you wanted him dead . . . Isn’t it true you were weak . . . drugged . . . unable to protect yourself . . . unable to reasonably determine what was going on . . .
“No. It’s not true.” Shana’s words sounded like a bell signaling the end of a heavyweight bout.
“Please elaborate.”
“Objection—”
“Sustained. She’s answered the question and versions of it numerous times, counselor. Move on.”
Glancing at the clock, Dane realized he’d zoned out for most of the testimony.
Most of the badgering. He also realized that Shana had held up, had kept her voice even and answered with as few words as possible, as instructed.
This was made evident to him by the beaming look and nodding head Kimble gave her as she stepped down from the witness stand.
Katz banged her gavel. “Recess until tomorrow morning.”
“All rise,” the court officer intoned in his impression of James Earl Jones.
Katz left the bench and the courtroom buzzed to life. It was then Dane realized how quiet it had been, save the testimony. He’d been to funerals with noisier crowds.
He stood and turned, welcoming Shana into his arms as if they were reuniting after a trip to the moon.
As they fled from court, Kimble hung onto Dane and Shana as if she were their bodyguard.
The movement after sitting for so long helped him clear his head, helped him get back to who he was, what was important.
Right now, that meant back to protecting the man who he now realized he’d thought of as a big brother.
“Don’t say anything to the press.” Kimble needed more practice on her stage whisper as they went through the open doors to a larger crush than the one inside the court.
It was easy to ignore the media, the shouted questions.
Dane was getting good at ignoring things.
Almost as good as he was at paying attention to things.
Dane didn’t mention to Kimble that the governor was planning to give a press conference any minute right there in front of the courthouse. But he needed to get close to Peter, so he pulled away from her.
“I need to stick with Peter.” Kimble gave him a look. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”
It didn’t surprise him that Shana followed, then Kimble, as they joined Peter and Joe at the bottom of the steps where some reporters had gathered with a TV crew.
“Let us know when you’re ready, Governor.
” One of the TV reporters stood front and center with her microphone outstretched while others joined her.
It was a crazy thing that Peter could command an impromptu press conference when he chose to.
Dane kept a pleasant smile on his face while he stood back and surveyed the close perimeter.
Joe kept his eyes on the distance looking for telltale flashes that could be snipers.
Luckily there weren’t any tall buildings in the vicinity.
Acer was milling around checking out people milling around.
Dane whispered, “It’s time.”
Peter cleared his throat. “As you know, I’m here on Martha’s Vineyard to testify in a murder trial on behalf of a man who is a good friend and colleague of mine who has served me and this country very well for many years . . .”
Dane tuned him out. He didn’t want to listen to the bullshit, didn’t think it was necessary, though Peter insisted.
He didn’t want Dane’s reputation to be harmed.
Although the damage had already been done in law enforcement circles as far as Dane knew.
The vibes had gotten chilly inside the state police headquarters where he’d been a welcomed friend in the past.
A sudden move, a slight shove, a disturbance in a cluster of onlookers caught his eye. Dane backed away from Peter and took up a flank position to cut the sightline between the disturbance and Peter. Acer saw his move and they exchanged nods.
Acer bodied up to the moving man and Dane sliced through the moderate crowd to flank the man. The beady-eyed character wearing the unnecessary trench coat saw hm. Damn. Dane saw the flicker in the man’s eyes a split second before he slid his hand inside his coat.
“Weapon!” Dane shouted as he lunged. Acer was closer and grabbed the man’s arms from behind, pulling him back as Dane reached him.
The crowd startled. Shouts and mayhem ensued.
Dane knew Joe would have pulled Peter out of the way the instant he’d yelled.
He reached inside the man’s jacket where his hand gripped a gun.
A Sig Sauer model. Dane grabbed hold of it and shoved the barrel up as the man pulled the trigger, burning his hand as he ripped it from the perp.
The shot went off at a harmless angle over their heads, maybe clipping a tree branch.
Then a couple of uniformed officers joined the fray and Dane found himself on the ground, facedown, about to be arrested. Yet again.