Chapter 14
Nick
I sat in my jail cell, wondering just how it was that a judge found it necessary to deny a bond hearing, claim me as a flight risk, and a modern-day terrorist on my native soil. My service to the nation was apparently all for naught, and my release from incarceration was dependent on the false testimony of a girl I didn’t really know.
In club terms, I was fucked.
The sound of keys jingling warned me of a guard’s approach. As the sound got closer and closer, I couldn’t help but wonder if either Peyton decided to testify, or if they found DNA evidence of Whip’s dead brother.
“Navarro! Hands to the door, I need to cuff you for court.”
I had been placed in a maximum security cell, and unlike the majority of other men who were incarcerated in the jail, I wasn’t free to roam. I turned around, backed up to the door, and placed my wrists in front of the hinged opening in the steel door.
Within a few seconds, my hands were cuffed. A few seconds later, and I was fitted with a waist chain and shackles.
I walked in a few steps in front of the guard, well aware of the route we were taking to get to the courtroom. Upon entering the room, however, I was pleasantly surprised to see Peyton, dressed in a black skirt, white shirt, and black blazer.
Her conservative heels topped off the ensemble, but it was her glasses that commanded my attention.
You wore those on purpose, didn’t you?
Almost immediately after being seated beside Tristan Beecham, the club’s attorney, the judge entered the courtroom.
“All rise,” the bailiff said.
Although she was seated twenty feet from me, the smell of Peyton’s shampoo and perfume caused my mouth to water.
The judge sat down.
“You may be seated.”
The judge shuffled through a stack of paperwork, picked up a sheet of paper, and studied it. After a moment, he placed the paper down on his desk and raised his head. “In the matter of the people versus Nicholas Navarro, new testimony has been given which corroborates previous testimony given by the accused, and supports statements regarding the whereabouts of the accused on the night in question. The witness has agreed to testify before me, which I require in any such case.”
“Ms. Price, will you approach the witness stand?”
Peyton stood. “Yes, Sir.”
She gracefully walked to the witness stand.
“Raise your right hand.”
She did.
“State your name.”
“Peyton Penelope Price.”
“Ms. Price, do you swear – or affirm – that the testimony you give here today is the truth, the entire truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“I do.”
“Have a seat, please.”
Peyton sat in the witness stand. The judge nodded toward the prosecutor’s bench. “Your witness.”
“Ms. Price. I haven’t had an opportunity to hear your testimony, but it’s been brought to my attention that you gave testimony today in the presence of two detectives regarding the whereabouts of one Nicholas Navarro on the night in question. Is that correct?”
“I have no idea,” she responded.
“Excuse me? Can you speak up?”
She leaned forward and spoke into the microphone. “I have no idea.”
“You have no idea? Regarding what, Ms. Price?”
She cleared her throat. “You stated that I gave testimony to two detectives regarding the whereabouts of one Nicholas Navarro on the night in question. My response is this: I have no idea when the night in question is. I gave testimony regarding Mr. Navarro’s whereabouts on the night that he was involved in an interview with me. If the night of the interview and the night in question correspond with one another, I suppose you have your answer, Sir.”
“On the night of May 7th, did you interview Nicholas Navarro?”
“Yes, Sir. I did.”
“What is your profession, Ms. Price?”
“I’m a journalist, employed by the Union-Tribune, as a reporter.”
“On that night, when did the interview start?”
“6:00 p.m.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’m positive. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t testify, Sir.”
The prosecutor nodded. “I appreciate that, ma’am.”
“And when, Ms. Price, did the interview end?”
“2:06 a.m., Sir.”
Thank you.
“2:06, huh? Are you certain it was 2:06?”
“Yes, Sir. Again, if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t provide testimony regarding a specific time.”
“How, Ms. Price, are you so certain of the time?”
“I checked my watch immediately prior to ending the meeting. I recall saying, it’s 2:06 a.m., I need to go.”
“2:06 on the 7th?”
“No, Sir.”
“It wasn’t the 7th?”
“When it ended, Sir, it was the 8th. It was after midnight.”
“At any time during the interview, did Mr. Navarro leave your sight?”
“No, Sir, he did not.”
“Not once?”
“No, Sir.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
“So, you interviewed Mr. Navarro for eight hours?”
“That is correct.”
“At any point in time did you or Mr. Navarro eat?”
“No.”
“Drink?”
“Yes.”
“Did you or Mr. Navarro take an opportunity to urinate?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we did.”
The prosecutor chuckled. “Did you assist him?”
“No, I did not.”
“So, he did leave your sight?”
“No, he did not.”
The prosecutor shook his head. “Can you explain?”
“Sure. I interviewed Mr. Navarro in the equivalent of an abandoned warehouse. Mr. Navarro and I, on the evening and night that we’re speaking of, consumed drinks. At one point, Mr. Navarro stated that he needed to piss. I informed him that I needed to as well, and asked the way to the bathroom. He laughed and said the building did not have a working bathroom, but that it was in the process of being repaired. I then asked where he intended to urinate. He pointed to the parking lot. I chose to hold it, and he chose not to. While he urinated, Sir, I stood in the building and watched.”
Where the hell did that story come from?
The prosecutor sighed. “No further questions.”
The judge cleared his throat. “Ms. Price, do you understand that it is a crime for providing false testimony?”
“Yes, Sir, I do.”
“The crime of perjury.”
“Yes, Sir, I understand.”
“And, you understand you’re under oath to tell the truth?”
“Yes, Sir, I do.”
The judge nodded. “Will the accused please rise?”
Beecham and I both stood.
“Mr. Navarro, testimony has been provided that corroborates your claim, and provides you with an alibi on the night in question. Regarding the fingerprint on the fuel tank of the motorcycle, we must assume that was left at a date prior to the victim’s disappearance. For the mix-up, the court apologizes. You are free to go.”
I nodded. “Thank you, your honor.”
“Have you any questions, son?”
“None, your honor.”
“Be it a matter of record, that in the matter of the people versus Nicholas Navarro, the charges, in their entirety, have been dismissed.”
The judge stood.
“Please rise,” the bailiff bellowed.
The judge left the room.
“You may be seated, and you’re dismissed,” the bailiff stated.
The sheriff’s officer walked to the bench, unlocked my cuffs, and removed the shackles.
“Any questions?” Beecham asked.
“Nope,” I said.
“I’ll send you a bill.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Peyton walking toward the door. I felt like yelling at her, telling her to stop, and asking to use her cell phone, but realized I had to refrain from any contact with her – at least in the courtroom.
Not telling her how much I appreciated her help was difficult. Having no idea if she was going to remain the same person toward me after she gave her testimony was worse. The possibility of losing whatever it was we shared sank into the pit my stomach like a rock.
It was painfully obvious she meant more to me than some girl who was simply interviewing me.
I liked the thought of it.
But I wasn’t sure if I could allow it.