Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
“The People call Claire Barnes,” Lana said.
To her right, the jurors and alternates fidgeted in their seats. Trevor, Lana’s second chair on the trial, ushered Claire into the courtroom from the hallway. The woman stepped into the witness stand, taking the waiting chair. The bailiff swore her in.
Lana went through her preliminary questions, establishing Claire’s identity as the older sister of the victim, Heather. It was both to introduce Claire to the jury and to get her comfortable. They’d gone over her testimony so many times, but it was always different doing the real thing.
Claire wasn’t nervous, though. Lana knew this woman was more than ready. She had a hard glint in her eye that said nothing would stop her from telling her story. After all this time, she finally had her chance.
“When was the last time you saw your sister Heather?”
“September 17, 1998. It was a Thursday.”
“Could you tell me what happened that day?”
Claire shifted in her seat. “I went to the beach to look for her. Heather spent a lot of time there, sometimes sleeping there with some other kids who were runaways. I went to check on her as much as I could, to bring her food and try to convince her to come home for a shower or a hot meal.”
“Why wasn’t Heather living at home?”
“She didn’t get along with my parents. They were very strict, and they came down really hard on her after they caught her sneaking out one too many times. But it backfired. She took off altogether.”
Lana had to ask each question carefully, not leading Claire’s testimony and not jumping too far ahead. It took patience, but it was the best way to lay the groundwork and make sure the jury observed every important detail.
“And how old was Heather at this time?”
“Seventeen.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen. I had just graduated from high school, and I was starting at West Oaks Community College.”
“What happened when you got to the beach on September 17, 1998?”
“I started looking for her. There were different spots that she liked to hang out. There are a couple beaches with good surfing, and she’d go there in the mornings.
She could usually borrow someone’s surfboard and get out on the waves.
In the afternoons, she and her friends stayed closer to the tourist areas, hoping that someone would buy them a meal, or that they could find leftovers from a picnic.
That day, in September, I checked all those places, plus some others where I’d seen Heather before. But I couldn’t find her.”
“What time of day was this?”
“Around lunchtime.”
“Did you return home?”
“Yes.”
“Did you go back to look for Heather again that day?”
“I did. At night.”
Now, Lana needed to set up the rest of Claire’s testimony. “Did Heather have a means of making money at that time?”
Lana had practiced this answer with Claire so many times, and yet the witness still hesitated. “She told me that she was giving blow jobs or sleeping with men for money.”
Wayfair stood up, his hands face down on the defense table. “Objection. Hearsay.”
“Statement against interest,” Lana countered.
“Overruled.”
Lana said a silent thanks. Back in 1998, Ryan had claimed to police that he just gave Heather a ride, that she’d only been in his car for five minutes.
But if he’d picked her up for sex, Heather would’ve gone willingly with him to a secluded location.
So the fact that she’d been turning tricks was important to undermine Ryan’s version of events.
Lana flipped through her notes again, returning her focus to her primary line of questioning. “Did you find Heather on the night of September 17?”
“When I got to the beach that night, where people sometimes set up sleeping bags, I didn’t see her right away.
Someone had a fire going on the sand, and it was hard to make out the different faces in the dark.
I walked around for a while, hoping that I would spot her.
I was going to give up and head back home again when I turned back to look at the street.
That’s when I saw Heather. She was standing on the curb of Ocean Lane, on the opposite side of the road, so she was facing toward me. ”
“You’re sure it was her?”
“Absolutely. It was Heather. Then a car pulled up, and a male got out of the driver’s seat. He walked toward Heather and started talking to her. She smiled at him, like they knew each other.”
“What did the male look like?”
“Nice leather coat. Around my age then, eighteen or nineteen. I recognized him. It was Ryan Hearst.”
Claire testified that Ryan was well known around West Oaks. He went to a private academy but dated a lot of the girls at the local public high school. He had a reputation of providing drugs or alcohol or even money for dates.
“Then Heather got into the car with Ryan,” Claire said. “And that was the last time I ever saw her alive.”
After they finished for the day, Lana met Claire out in the hallway. They found a quiet spot to talk. Trevor was still inside the courtroom, gathering their materials, and getting things ready for the next day.
“How do you feel about your testimony?” Lana asked.
“I think it went well. Do you?”
Lana could hardly contain her smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
She was trying not to get overconfident, but Claire’s testimony had been a huge success. Trevor had watched the jury. The entire time, they’d been rapt, nodding their heads as Claire spoke. Even Wayfair’s cross-examination couldn’t make her waver from her testimony.
Claire had told them all about Heather, creating a picture of a real—if troubled—person. Not just a name or a picture. A real girl who’d been vulnerable, but who’d been loved.
She had also testified about Heather’s locket, which the girl always wore and never took off, not even when she went swimming. Tomorrow, Lana would drive home the most damning evidence in the case: Max’s discovery of that locket in Ryan Hearst’s bedroom.
Claire exhaled, closing her eyes. “You don’t know how good it feels to have that over with.
It’s like I can feel Heather here, cheering me on.
That’s the only way I made it through. Just remembering her, thinking of how much she deserved this day.
This entire trial.” She blinked away tears.
“It’s really going to happen, isn’t it? He’s going to pay for what he did. ”
Lana squeezed the woman’s hand. “We’re almost there.”
“And it never would’ve happened without you. Thank you, Lana. This means so much to my family. To me. And I will forever be grateful.”
Devon drove her back to Bennett Security.
Lana had rarely felt such elation during a case.
She’d known from the start that proving Ryan Hearst’s guilt would be difficult.
But everything had been lining up just as she needed.
Her witnesses, the jury, even her own level of focus.
She knew she could thank Max for that. The stress of having a stalker hadn’t affected her one bit.
As they walked inside the building, a receptionist stopped Lana. “Miss Marchetti? There’s a package for you. Just got dropped off by a courier. I think it might be something related to your trial?”
Everyone in the building knew all about her stay here and the trial that was going on.
“Thank you.” She took the box. It was stamped with the label of a local shipping company, though she didn’t recognize the name on the return address.
“Need anything else?” Devon asked.
“No, not tonight. Max is driving me tomorrow, so I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
She spotted Max upstairs in his office. The glass walls were turned to transparent, and he was pacing around, talking into a Bluetooth headset. She couldn’t wait to see him and tell him everything that had happened at the trial today. But that could wait until he was ready to end his own workday.
She went upstairs to change her clothes and relax.
She could get used to this, coming home to Max.
Of course, it wasn’t going to last very long.
Even if they continued keeping things “one day at a time,” as Max had suggested, she would go back to living at her own townhouse soon.
Assuming they identified the stalker, or the guy left her alone.
Yet, she still could imagine it so easily. Seeing him for dinner, discussing their day. Making love before bed and getting up early to go together to the gym.
She hadn’t had much time to think about what he’d shared with her the night before.
His high school girlfriend. His vasectomy.
Lana had always assumed she’d have children someday, though it wasn’t on her agenda for the near future. She wasn’t bothered by the possibility that Max couldn’t give her biological kids. After bringing Aurora into her family, she’d pictured herself adopting.
But just the fact that Max had wanted to mention his vasectomy proved that he was actually considering their future relationship, what it might look like. Max wasn’t sure he wanted kids at all, and that was something to consider.
Yet the real question was whether Max could commit to her. He was clearly struggling with the decision. She didn’t think he was anywhere near as selfish as he liked to claim. He’d still been a kid at eighteen, scared to be tied down. Max wasn’t a child anymore. And neither was she.
This decision wasn’t something she could rush, certainly not something she could force him into. She could only decide for herself what she needed, and then ask herself whether he could provide it. And whether she could be patient enough to wait.
But as she walked through his apartment, not noticing its opulence, but simply all the little reminders of Max, she knew that she’d wait as long as it took.
Max Bennett had been her first love. Her only love. The way she felt about him had only grown deeper. She couldn’t possibly turn away from him now.
Lana came back out of her bedroom in her comfiest leggings and a sweatshirt. After such a productive day, she was more than ready to decompress. She walked by the kitchen table and saw the package from the courier. She’d nearly forgotten about it.
She picked up the box. Every edge of it was covered with tape. That seemed strange. But it was addressed to “ADA Marchetti,” which suggested it was connected to either this trial, or another case.
Lana got a knife from the kitchen to cut the tape. She pulled back the cardboard flaps and looked inside.
Then she screamed.
Someone had put sand into the box. That explained all the tape; it was to keep the grains of sand from slipping through the gaps in the cardboard.
Nestled into the sand was a torn piece of the scarf Max had bought her.
And a note.