The 6th Target - James Patterson [55]
Brinkley didn’t look back. He sat motionless in his chair, watching himself mow all those innocent people down.
“I have no questions,” said Mickey Sherman, turning to whisper into Alfred Brinkley’s ear, the judge saying, “Thank you, Mr. Rooney. You may step down.”
Yuki waited for Rooney to make his long, hip-swinging return trip up the aisle before saying, “The People call Dr. Claire Washburn.”
Chapter 75
CLAIRE FELT ALL THE EYES IN THE ROOM following her as she made her way to the witness stand. Yesterday at this time, she’d been in bed, and she hoped to God that two hours from now, she’d be there again.
Then she saw Yuki, cute little thing all of twenty-eight years old, all that passion in her face, scared half to death but not wanting to show it. So Claire smiled at her as she dragged her butt through the gate and walked to the witness stand.
Claire put her hand on the Bible as the bailiff took her through the “do you swears,” and then she arranged the folds of her dress that now hung loosely around her from having lost fifteen pounds in just under three weeks. The gunshot diet, she thought as she settled into the chair.
“Thank you for coming today, Dr. Washburn. You just got out of the hospital a couple of days ago?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And can you tell the jury why you were in the hospital?”
“I was shot in the chest.”
“Is the person who shot you sitting in court today?”
“Yes. That’s the little shit-bird. Right there.”
Sherman didn’t bother to get out of his seat, simply said, “Your Honor, I object. I’m not really sure about the grounds, but I’m pretty sure the witness isn’t allowed to call my client a shit-bird.”
“Dr. Washburn, he’s probably right about that.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor. It’s just the pain talking.” She looked down at Brinkley. “I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have called you a shit-bird.”
The titters in the gallery flowed across the room and into the jury box, until the judge patiently banged his gavel, saying, “Everyone, and I do mean everyone” — he peered over his glasses at Claire — “there will be no more of this. This is not Comedy Central, and I will clear the courtroom if there are any more public outbursts. Ms. Castellano, please control your witnesses. That’s part of your job.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor. I understand.”
Yuki cleared her throat. “Dr. Washburn, what was the nature of your injuries?”
“I had a hole in my chest caused by a .38-caliber bullet that collapsed my left lung and nearly caused my death.”
“That must have been very frightening and painful.”
“Yes. More than I can say.”
“The jury saw the film of the shooting,” Yuki said, Claire reading her sympathetic look. “Can you tell us what you said to the defendant before he shot you?”
“I said, ‘Okay, son, that’s enough, now. Give me the gun.’ ”
“And then what happened?”
“He said something about this being my fault, that I should have stopped him. Next thing I knew, I was being carted off the ferry by paramedics.”
“You tried to stop him from shooting anyone else.”
“Yes.”
“You saw other people try to stop him.”
“Yes. But he took aim and shot us all. Shot Mr. Ng’s brains right onto the deck.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Your witness,” Yuki said.
Chapter 76
MICKEY SHERMAN HAD KNOWN CLAIRE WASHBURN for many years, liked her very much, and was glad she’d survived her ordeal on the Del Norte.
But she was a dangerous threat to his client.
“Dr. Washburn, what’s your profession?”
“I’m the chief medical examiner of San Francisco.”
“Unlike the coroner, you’re a medical doctor, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“When you were doing your internship, did you do rotations at a teaching hospital?”
“I did.”
“And you rotated through the psychiatric ward?”
“Yes.”
“Ever see any patients walking around with a blank stare in the psych ward?”
“Objection. Relevance, Your Honor,” Yuki said.
“Overruled. The witness may answer the question.”
“I really don’t remember any of my psych patients, Mr. Sherman. All the patients I have