Dawn Patrol - Don Winslow [98]
“Yes.”
“And was he doing something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“He was just looking around, checking the back door, that kind of thing,” Tammy says. “Then we went to Denny’s.”
She looks at the jurors with an expression of total innocence.
“Ms. Roddick,” Alan asks, his voice edging toward threat, “didn’t you tell me that you saw Mr. Silver pouring kerosene on the floor in the basement?”
“No,” Tammy says.
“You didn’t tell me,” Burke says, “that you saw him run a twisted sheet into that kerosene?”
“Objection.”
“No.”
“Or hold his cigarette lighter to that sheet and set it on fire?” Burke asks.
“Objection …”
“No.”
“Ob—”
“I have your sworn deposition here,” Burke says. “I can show it to you, if you’d like.”
“—jection!”
Boone sees Petra start hammering on her laptop, bringing up Tammy’s deposition transcript. The jurors are literally leaning forward in their seats, totally awake now; the case has suddenly become really interesting, like they see on Law & Order.
“Yeah, okay. I told you those things,” Tammy says.
“Thank you,” Alan says. But he’s not happy. Torching your own witness, as it were, is never a good thing, because the other side gets to stand up and confront her with the conflict in her own testimony. But it’s better than nothing.
Except—
Tammy says, “Because you promised me money to say it.”
That’s not good, Boone thinks.
The jurors gasp. The trial junkies in the gallery sit up with ears pricked. Petra turns in her chair and looks at Boone. Then she shakes her head sadly and goes back to her computer.
Todd the Rod morphs into a semi-vertical position that could be mistaken for an actual human being standing up. “Move for a directed verdict, Your Honor. Not to mention sanctions for gross misconduct.”
Alan says, “Mistrial, Your Honor.”
“I’ll see you both in chambers,” Hammond says. “Now.”
Fucked, Boone thinks as he watches Todd the Rod ooze toward the judge’s chambers.
Epic macking fucked.
101
Boone intercepts Tammy as she walks out of the courtroom.
“They got to you, didn’t they?” Boone asks.
She just shakes her head and pushes past him into the hallway. He follows her, just a few steps ahead of Johnny and Harrington.
“What did they offer you,” Boone says, taking her by the elbow, “that’s worth more than your friend’s life?”
She turns those green eyes on him. “If you’d seen what I’ve seen—”
“What have you seen?”
Tammy jerks her arm away, hesitates for a second, then says, “There’s a world out there you know nothing about.”
“Educate me.”
But Johnny steps between them. He shows his badge and says, “Sergeant Kodani, SDPD. Ms. Roddick, we have some questions for you regarding the death of Angela Hart.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“You might know more than you think,” Johnny says. “In any case, we’d appreciate your coming down to the station to discuss it with us. It won’t take long.”
“Am I under arrest?” she asks.
“Not yet,” Harrington says, pushing in. “Would you like to be?”
“I have things I have to—”
“What,” Harrington says, “you’re late for the pole?”
“Just come with us, Ms. Roddick,” Johnny says. He guides her toward the door.
Harrington looks at Boone. “Another stellar performance from you, Daniels. Congratulations. At least this time, you got a grown-up killed. Maybe next time, it’ll be an old lady.”
Boone punches him.
102
Tammy Roddick is stone.
That’s what Johnny Banzai thinks.
“Angela had your credit cards,” he says. “Why?”
Tammy shrugs.
“Did you give them to her?”
She stares at the wall.
“Or did you check into the motel with her?” Johnny asks.
She checks her fingernails.
The interview room is nice. Small but clean, with the walls painted in a soothing light yellow. A metal table and two metal chairs. The classic oneway mirror. A video camera with microphone bolted to the ceiling.
So, as much as Harrington would like to bust into the room, call her a stupid fucking