Chapter Sixty-Eight
Sam picked at her breakfast the next morning and wiggled into her bulletproof vest, her nerves jangling.
Hugh had warned her that the defense could drag out the cross-examination for days, to wear her down. But she was ready. All her sacrifice came down to this.
She took a deep breath and walked into the court room, prepared for the worst.
“The defense calls Samantha Hutchinson to the stand.” Howe’s attorney announced.
She got up and went to the box.
“Ms. Hutchinson, the court reminds you that you are still under oath,” the judge said sternly.
“Yes.” She took her seat.
Howe had three men sitting at the defense table with him, each wearing an expensive suit. The first one got up and managed to ask Sam questions to bring out that she was an only child of a single alcoholic mother whose father was never in the picture.
She wondered how many only children or single mothers were sitting on the jury.
That lawyer took his seat and the next one got up. He went back to the basics. Her name, age, and where she grew up, making Chicago sound like a despicable place to live.
He asked how long she’d been in the drama club and whether she’d aspired to be an actress.
“I guess when I was little I might have wanted to be an actress, like all little girls. Actress, astronaut, president of the United States, princess.” She couldn’t resist that last one. She saw Angel flinch slightly.
“But you have acted in the past, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You have pretended to be someone you’re not.”
“I believe that’s what actors do.”
“In fact, Ms. Hutchinson, isn’t it true that you faked your own death and have misrepresented yourself across state lines with fraudulent identification?”
“Uh, no. That was the U.S. Marshal Service,” she said, astounded at their nerve. “And if they hadn’t, the defendant’s hired assassins would have killed me by now.” She didn’t bother to hide her disdain. She glared at Congressman Howe.
“Assassins? Who are you referring to, exactly?” the lawyer questioned.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stop to get their names while they were shooting at me.”
The lawyer paused dramatically. “Are you married, Ms. Hutchinson?”
“No.”
“And yet, you are wearing a wedding ring. Another delusion, perhaps?”
She hiked her brows. “It’s just a ring.”
“What alias are you using at this time? Where do you live right now?” he asked quickly.
“Objection,” Hugh called. “Ms. Hutchinson is a federally protected witness. She does not have to answer that.”
“I want the record to show that under oath she raised her hand and gave her name as Samantha Hutchinson,” the lawyer boomed. “But Samantha Hutchinson is legally dead.”
The defense was losing, so the attorney was clearly grasping at straws. That was written all over the faces of the jury. They were firmly on her side.
Even so, his accusation hit home.
She’d known for months she was dead to the world, and probably long forgotten. But for some reason, it hit her anew at that moment.
She didn’t exist. My God.
She was no one.
“Objection! The witness is not on trial here,” Hugh said loudly. “Can we move on to the details of the night of the shooting? If defense counsel needs a reminder of who is on trial here, he’s sitting right next to you.”
Sam smiled at the district attorney. Go, Hugh.
But the other lawyer didn’t give up. “I’m sure the jury wants to know how credible the witness is before using her testimony to condemn an innocent man. A man who has served this country in war, and in upholding the laws others have fought and died to preserve.”
Sam wanted to throw up.
“Are you going to ask the witness a question, or should we excuse her?” the judge asked.
Sam hoped he’d let her step down, but of course he didn’t.
“The night of the alleged murder, you were working at a pizza shop?”
She took offense to that, but Hugh was already on his feet. “It wasn’t an alleged murder, your honor. Heather Riddell is truly dead.”
“Not just pretending to be dead, like Ms. Hutchinson?” The attorney tilted his head to the side as though he’d caught her in a lie.
“Didn’t we already discuss my death?” She looked up at the judge, who was scowling at the lawyer like he was ready to climb down from his bench and punch him.
“Indeed. So, you were working at a pizza shop, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And this pizza shop is owned by Arthur and Anthony Santiago?”
“Yes.” Where was he going with this?
“The same Santiago family that is known to be affiliated with the Boston mob?”
“Boston mob?” She looked at Hugh in confusion. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never even been to Boston.”
“But you worked for a mobster, so it’s possible you are being pressured into testifying against the good Congressman.”
Hugh got to his feet again. “Objection. There is absolutely no evidence Arthur and Anthony Santiago are part of any criminal organization, and it is pure slander to suggest such affiliation.”
She blinked a few times at the absurdity of the idea of Anthony being a gangster.
“Withdrawn. Tell me, Ms. Hutchinson, what did you spend the money you earned at this pizza shop on?”
“Excuse me?”
“Drugs, perhaps?”
“No. I don’t do drugs.”
“And yet, on the night of your fake death, you were parked on a street known for trafficking crack cocaine?”
“Objection!” Hugh said stiffly. “Again, facts not in evidence. Your honor, the witness is here for her testimony regarding what happened in the alley behind the pizza shop on the night of October tenth. Defense counsel’s questions are irrelevant and bordering on slanderous.”
“I agree,” said the judge. “The next question out of your mouth had better be about that night, or I will assume you have nothing pertinent to ask Ms. Hutchinson and she will be dismissed.”
“Very well.” The man straightened his tie. “The night Heather Riddell’s body was found in the alley, you say you were sitting on the ground behind the building?”
“Yes. Against the wall.”
“And you saw the car she was traveling in as it drove by?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I was looking at my phone at the time, and didn’t notice anything else until I heard her cry out.”
“You heard Ms. Riddell make a noise?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What kind of noise?”
Sam swallowed uncomfortably as she let the memory come. Hearing that sound was almost worse than hearing the gunshots. It was the definitive moment Heather was alive, and then she was not.
“The first sound was a scream. I looked up and saw her trying to get away from a man. Then she made a sound that was more like a whimpering cry.”
“Was it loud?”
“The first sound, yes. The second, not as loud.” She swallowed again.
“So, the scream was loud? Loud enough to cause you to look up to see what it was?”
“Yes.”
“Yet, no one else reported hearing anything in the alley that night. No loud scream or whimpering cry.”
Was it Sam’s fault there wasn’t anyone else in the alley that night? She kept her mouth closed and waited for an actual question, as Hugh had instructed.
“Do you find that odd, Ms. Hutchinson?”
“I couldn’t say. I can only speak about what I heard and what I know I saw. My guess is the defendant wouldn’t shoot a girl in an alley if he thought there were people around to hear it.”
She glanced up at the judge, who seemed to be trying not to smile.
“Let’s move on to the sound of the gun. You described it as sounding airy, like a whiz instead of a bang or a loud crack.”
“Yes.”
“Was it loud?”
She rubbed her fingers along her forehead. Surely, letting him kill her would have been easier than sitting there answering these asinine questions. “It was not as loud as a normal gunshot.”
“And are you an expert in what a normal gunshot sounds like?”
“I’ve shot a nine millimeter. They are very loud. I believe the bullet pulled from the body was also a nine millimeter. I know that the gun in the alley was not as loud as the gun I fired.”
“Would you say it was half as loud as the gun you fired?”
She looked over at Hugh, hoping he would come up with some magical lawyer rule that could get her out of being annoyed to death in front of all these witnesses. He was writing on a tablet. No doubt doodling to keep himself awake.
“I would say less.”
“Why do you think it sounded different?”
“I believe the gun had a silencer on it.”
“And you know what a silencer is?”
“I’ve heard of silencers. When I described the gun to the police detective and told him what I heard, he suggested the gun probably had a silencer. I believe the ballistics on the bullets came back that they had been fired through a silencer, but you would need to talk to someone else regarding ballistics, because I am not an expert.” She added that last part to keep him from having to ask.
“So, you were close enough to see the gun clearly? To see that it had a silencer on it?”
“Yes. It was longer than a normal gun.”
“But that night while giving your statement, you told Detective Richards you couldn’t describe the man holding it.”
“That night I was rattled and had been focusing on the gun. I did see the man’s face, but my mind was blocking it out. I understand that’s quite common.”
“You didn’t mention you thought it was the congressman until the next morning.”
“I needed to calm down and, well, honestly, you don’t expect a congressman to do something like this. When I first realized it was him I’d seen, I wanted to be wrong.”
“When did you first realize you thought it was Congressman Howe?”
“That night, on the way back to my apartment.” She decided not to mention the poster on the bus. It didn’t matter. That was not why she knew it was him.
“But it took you until the next morning to report it?”
“Technically it was the same morning, just later. And I had already made an appointment to speak to Detective Richards again.”
Eventually they stopped for the day. The defense announced that they wanted her back the next day. Howe smiled at her as she got down and walked back to her seat between Justin and Angel.
Sam smiled back, hoping he wouldn’t see how terrified she was.
As the night before, her father was waiting at the suite when they got there. “Good job today,” he said proudly as he hugged her.
“Thanks.”
They chatted and sat down to the dinner that had been delivered.
“I did some digging around and I found out you’ll be moving to Utah.”
“Utah?” she said flatly. She had never been to Utah, known anyone from Utah, or even heard of anything exciting to do in Utah. She guessed that was the point.
“They don’t have your new name yet.”
“New name?” she said with as much enthusiasm as she’d had for Utah.
“It is what you make of it. If you sit around and focus on the past, I imagine it will be pretty bleak in Utah. Try to look at it as a fresh start, a clean slate to become anyone you want to be.”
“But I want to be me,” she said quietly.
He frowned, and cut into his steak. “I was trying to make you feel better. So much for fatherly advice.”
She felt bad for complaining. This had been her choice. And he was trying to cheer her up. “Maybe you should just buy me a new car,” she suggested with a wink while she ate a fry.
He laughed, but she was only partly kidding. She would need a new car. She wondered if WITSEC provided one.
“Tomorrow should be easier in court,” he said.
“Really?” She’d thought the opposite.
“They’ve already tried to discredit you. That’s the worst part. Having all your ugly secrets drawn out in front of everyone and being called a liar.”
“I never had any ugly secrets.”
“Everyone has secrets,” he said.
She definitely did now. “Speaking of which… How’s Garrett? Is he still in town?”
Her father took a sip of wine before answering. “He already gave his testimony, so now he’s taking some time off before coming back to work.”
“Oh.”
She tried not to be sad that he’d been so close by but didn’t stop in to say hello, just stalked her from afar. But she was sad. She hated how badly she still missed him and longed to see him.
Shouldn’t she be over him by now? It hadn’t taken her this long to get over Lance.
“Are you all right?” her father asked when she’d gone silent.
She snapped out of it and smiled. “Yeah. Sure. I’m fine.”
Or she would be. Someday.
That night before she went to bed, she stood by the window, gathered her courage, and called Garrett. It rang, but he didn’t answer.
“Are you out there?” she whispered when the voicemail picked up. “I think you were wrong about moving on. All this time has passed, and I still miss you. I found out where I’m going. Am I allowed to tell you? I still can’t believe this is really happening, you know? I’m scared,” she admitted.
She hung up before she said any more. It wouldn’t make any difference to him, anyway.
They were over. She had to accept that.