Robert Browne - Trial Junkies

But she wasn't one. Far from it.

There had been a fierce desperation to their lovemaking, but it had felt right, more right than Hutch had anticipated, with none of the requisite awkwardness that accompanied a first time together. He moved around the bed and crouched in front of her, smoothing her dark hair with his hand, remembering how it had dangled toward his chest as she had worked her hips atop him.

"It'll all work out," he said. "You have to trust me."

"I want to. I really want to."

"Promise me you won't do anything crazy."

She said nothing. Merely reached out and put her arms around his neck, urgently pulling him toward her.

A few moments later he was inside her again.

And for a short time, all was right with the world.

Later still, as Ronnie slept quietly beside him, their legs entangled, her head resting against his shoulder, Hutch thought he saw Jenny standing near his bedroom window, hiding in the shadows there, watching them.

Then he realized he was dreaming, and in the dream she stepped forward into the moonlight, wearing only the faded UIC Flames t-shirt that Nadine had worn two nights ago.

She studied Hutch with mild disapproval, then said, "Really, Ethan? I'm dead four months and you're already sleeping with her?"

"A moment of weakness," he told her. "It doesn't really mean anything."

"It does to her."

He turned and looked at Ronnie then, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow, her naked form curled up beside him. Clinging to him.

Had he made a mistake?

When he looked at Jenny again, she was gone, and a sudden ache filled his gut. He sucked in a sharp breath and held it, wondering if the pain would ever leave him.

Where were you, Ethan?

Why didn't you return my calls?

Then he opened his eyes, awake now, and tried very hard not to cry.

It didn't take long to figure out what Waverly's trial strategy was.

Hutch had seen it before, when he was fifteen years old and OJ Simpson was foremost in the news. He and his parents had watched snippets of the spectacle on TV as Johnnie Cochran and company had turned the tables on their adversaries and put the LAPD itself on trial.

Ronnie's claims that she'd been set up played in Hutch's mind, and he no longer doubted this was true. It stood to reason that a couple of overzealous cops, getting pressure from above, had taken it upon themselves to ensure the conviction of a woman they thought was guilty, by planting the bloody sweatshirt in her garbage bin.

Who else would have done it?

Certainly not Langer, if Hutch was right about him. His motive was to protect Ronnie.

And Hutch doubted anyone alive today would have trouble with the notion that cops can sometimes be corrupt. Five minutes on YouTube would settle that argument.

The morning began with Detective Meyer on the stand, once again playing the cocky charmer, the smile on his face saying he was looking forward to his encounter with Waverly. Facing off with a defense attorney-especially a female defense attorney-was a sport for him. One he most certainly excelled at.

But if Waverly's body language was to be believed, she was more than up to the challenge. Once Judge O'Donnell reminded Meyer that he was still under oath, Waverly bounced to her feet and nearly charged the podium.

"Detective Meyer, when you're investigating a homicide-not just this one, but any homicide-how do you determine who might be a suspect?"

"How else?" Meyer said, then gave Waverly a look that suggested that this was possibly the dumbest question he'd ever been asked. "We follow the evidence and see where it leads."

"Isn't it true that statistics show most murders are committed by someone close to the victim, like a friend or a family member?"

"Objection," Abernathy said. "The witness isn't an expert in statistics."

"But he is a veteran homicide investigator, Your Honor, and is well aware of such things. I believe Mr. Abernathy made that very same claim during his direct."

"She has a point," the judge said to Abernathy. "Answer the question, Detective Meyer."

Meyer nodded, then looked at Waverly. "It all depends on the case, but yes, most murders are committed by someone close to the victim."

"Like a spouse or a lover?"

"Oftentimes, yes."

"And did you find such a person in Ms. Keating's life?"

"According to her family and friends, she wasn't attached to anyone at the time of her death."

"What about former boyfriends? Did you speak to any of them?"

Meyer's expression made it clear that this was another stupid question. "As I testified on Monday, we took a careful look at her exes."

"Including the most recent one?"

"Yes, of course."

"Can you tell the court his name?"

"Objection," Abernathy said. "What's the point of all this?"

"Your Honor, during direct examination, Mr. Abernathy spent a great deal of time having Detective Meyer recount the steps of his investigation. I'm merely trying to delve a little deeper into the subject."

"Overruled," the judge said.

"Thank you." Waverly turned to Meyer. "So can you tell us his name, Detective? The name of the victim's most recent boyfriend?"

"Warren Lutz," he said.

Waverly's eyebrows went up in surprise. It was an act, but an effective one. "Would that be Assistant District Attorney Warren Lutz?"

"It would."

"And when you spoke to him, did you consider him a suspect?"

Hutch knew that Jenny had dated this guy Lutz for several years, and remembered seeing a photo of them on a news site, having dinner and drinks at a local hot spot. As she looked into the camera, however, Jenny's smile had seemed forced-the same smile she wore whenever she was around her father. Based on that photo alone, Hutch had known that the relationship wouldn't last, but he'd never for a moment thought Lutz was her killer, and he doubted Waverly did either.

"Detective Meyer? Did you consider him a suspect?"

There was a flicker of movement in Meyer's eyes, a subtle glance toward Abernathy. He hesitated for what couldn't have been more than a couple milliseconds, then said, "In the early stages of an investigation like this, the suspect list tends to be very long."

"That doesn't answer my question. Did you consider ADA Lutz to be a suspect or not?"

"We entertained the notion, of course, but like most of the other possibilities, it didn't pan out."

"And why is that?"

Meyer shrugged. "Mr. Lutz and Ms. Keating hadn't been together for months, and their break-up was amicable."

"And you know this how?"

"Mr. Lutz told us."

"Really?" Waverly said. "And you believed him?"

"We had no reason not to. He seemed genuinely distraught over Ms. Keating's death. And when we checked with friends and colleagues, no one contradicted his statement."

"I assume you asked him where he was on the night of Ms. Keating's murder?"

"We did."

"And his response?"

"He was at home, preparing for a trial."

"Alone?"

Meyer nodded. "That's what he told us."

"And you, of course, believed him," Waverly said. "How would you characterize your relationship with ADA Lutz?"

"Objection," Abernathy said. "Relevance?"

Waverly didn't flinch. "I think that'll be clear in a moment, Your Honor."

The judge waggled a finger at her. "Proceed."

Waverly thanked him, then looked at Meyer and asked the question again. "How would you characterize your relationship with ADA Lutz?"

"Professional," Meyer said.

"You've worked together on cases?"

"Several. He's the head of the major crimes unit at the District Attorney's office."