Harlan Coben: Caught

"Objection!"

"-or might they conclude that it had been written by a thirteen-year-old girl?"

Wendy opened her mouth, closed it, waited. Judge Howard said, "You can answer."

"I was pretending to be a thirteen-year-old girl."

"Ah," Flair said, "who hasn't?"

"Mr. Hickory," the judge warned.

"Sorry, Your Honor, couldn't resist. Well, Ms. Tynes, if I were just reading those messages, I wouldn't know that you were pretending, would I? I would think you were indeed a thirteen-year-old girl."

Lee Portnoi threw up his hands. "Is there a question in there?"

"Here it comes, sweetie, so listen up: Were those messages written by a thirteen-year-old girl?"

"Asked and answered, Your Honor."

Flair said, "It's a simple yes or no. Was the author of those messages a thirteen-year-old girl?"

Judge Howard nodded that she could answer.

"No," Wendy said.

"In fact, as you said, you were pretending to be a thirteen-year-old girl, correct?"

"Correct."

"And for all you know, the person on the other end was pretending to be an adult male seeking underage sex. For all you knew, you were talking to an albino nun with herpes, correct?"

"Objection."

Wendy met Flair's eyes. "An albino nun with herpes didn't show up looking for sex at the child's house."

But Flair would have none of it. "What house would that be, Ms. Tynes? The house where you set up your cameras? Tell me, did an underage girl live there?"

Wendy said nothing.

"Please answer the question," the judge said.

"No."

"But you were there, correct? Perhaps whoever was on the other side of your online communications-and we really don't know who that was at this point-but perhaps that person had seen your news"-Flair said it as though the word "news" itself tasted bad in his mouth-"program and decided to play along so he could meet a luscious thirty-six-year-old TV star. Isn't that possible?"

Portnoi was up. "Objection, Your Honor. These are matters for the jury."

"True enough," Flair said. "We can argue the obvious case of false entrapment there." He turned back to Wendy. "Let's stay on the night of January seventeenth, shall we? What happened after you confronted my client at your sting house?"

Wendy waited for the DA to object to the word "sting," but he'd probably figured that he'd done enough. "Your client ran away."

"After you leapt out with your cameras and lights and microphones, correct?"

She again waited for an objection before answering, "Yes."

"Tell me, Ms. Tynes. Is that the way the majority of men who come to your sting house react?"

"No. Most of the time they stick around and try to explain."

"And are most of those men guilty?"

"Yes."

"Yet my client acted differently. Interesting."

Portnoi was up again. "To Mr. Hickory, it might be interesting. To the rest of us, his shenanigans-"

"Yes, fine, withdrawn," Flair said as though he couldn't be bothered. "Relax, Counselor, there's no jury here. Don't you trust our judge to see through my 'shenanigans' without your guidance?" He fixed a cuff link. "So, Ms. Tynes, you turned on the cameras and lights and came jumping out with your microphone and Dan Mercer ran away, is that your testimony?"

"It is."

"What did you do then?"

"I told my producers to follow him."

Flair again feigned shock. "Are your producers police officers, Ms. Tynes?"

"No."

"Do you think private citizens should engage in chasing down suspects without the aid of police officers?"

"There was a police officer with us."

"Oh, please." Hickory looked skeptical. "Your show is pure sensationalism. Tripe tabloid at its worst-"

Wendy interrupted him. "We've met before, Mr. Hickory."

That slowed him down. "Have we?"

"When I was an assistant producer on A Current Affair . I booked you as an expert on the Robert Blake murder trial."

He turned to the spectators and bowed deeply. "So, ladies and gentlemen, we've established the fact that I'm a media whore. Touche." Another smattering of laughter. "Still, Ms. Tynes, are you trying to tell the court that law enforcement was in favor of your journalistic twaddle to the point of cooperation?"

"Objection."

"I'll allow it."

"But, Your Honor-"

"Overruled. Sit down, Mr. Portnoi."

Wendy said, "We had a relationship with the police and the DA's office. It was important for us to stay on the correct side of the law."

"I see. You were working together with law enforcement then, weren't you?"

"Not really, no."

"Well, which is it, Ms. Tynes? Did you work this entire sting on your own without the knowledge and cooperation of law enforcement?"

"No."

"Okay, fine. Did you contact the police department and DA's office before the night of January seventeenth in regard to my client?"

"We contacted the prosecutor's office, yes."

"Wonderful, thank you. Now, you said that you had your producers start chasing my client, is that correct?"

"That's not how she worded it," Portnoi said. "She said ' follow.' "

Flair looked at Portnoi as though he had never seen a more annoying gnat. "Yes, fine, whatever-chase, follow, we can discuss the difference another time. When my client ran, Ms. Tynes, where did you go?"

"To his residence."

"Why?"

"I figured that at some point, Dan Mercer might show up there."

"So you waited for him there, at his residence?"

"Yes."

"Did you stay outside his residence while waiting?"

Wendy squirmed. They were coming to it now. She looked out over the faces, locked on the eyes of Ed Grayson, whose nine-year-old son was an early victim of Dan Mercer. She could feel the weight of his stare as she said, "I saw a light on."

"In Dan Mercer's house?"

"Yes."

"How odd," Flair said, his voice set on full sarcasm. "I never, not once ever, heard of anyone ever leaving a light on when they weren't home."

"Objection!"

Judge Howard sighed. "Mr. Hickory."

Flair kept his eyes on Wendy. "So what did you do, Ms. Tynes?"

"I knocked on the door."

"Did my client answer?"

"No."

"Did anyone answer?"

"No."

"So what did you do next, Ms. Tynes?"

Wendy tried to stay very still when she said the next part. "I thought I might have seen movement through the window."

"You thought you might have seen movement," Flair repeated. "My, my, could you make your wording any more vague?"

"Objection!"

"Withdrawn. So what did you do then?"

"I tried the knob. The door was unlocked. I opened it."

"Really? Why would you do that?"

"I was concerned."

"Concerned about what?"

"There have been cases in which pedophiles have done themselves harm after being caught."

"Is that a fact? So you were worried that your entrapment might cause my client to attempt suicide?"

"Something like that, yes."

Flair put his hand to his chest. "I'm touched."

"Your Honor!" Portnoi shouted.

Flair waved him off again. "So you wanted to save my client?"

"If that was the case, yes, I wanted to stop him."

"On the air, you've used words like 'pervert,' 'sicko,' 'depraved,' 'monstrous,' and 'scum' to describe those you entrap, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Yet your testimony today is that you were willing to break into his house-in truth, break the law-to save my client's life?"

"I guess you could say that."

His voice not only dripped sarcasm but seemed to have spent days marinated in it: "How noble."

"Objection!"

"I wasn't being noble," Wendy said. "I prefer to see these men brought to justice, to give the families closure. Suicide is an easy way out."

"I see. So what happened when you broke into my client's home?"

"Objection," Portnoi said. "Ms. Tynes said the door was unlocked-"