State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller by R. Barri Flowers Page A

were of reasonably similar
height and build, to keep anyone from standing out too much.
    Beverly took a sweeping glance at the others
in the viewing room, all of whom had a vested interest in the
outcome. With the possible exception of Grant, who had accompanied
her there, he said, for moral support. Neither of them had spoken
of his possible appointment to the bench. In her case she had been
sworn to secrecy. She assumed he knew about Dean’s recommendation
of him, but chose not to tell her till the deal was done.
    Either way, Beverly only wished Grant the
best, even if his judgeship meant she would lose the best
co-counsel she’d ever had. And one she had hoped would be second
chair on her present case, should it go to trial. This was put on
hold for the moment.
    “Could you ask number two to lift his head
up?” Maxine requested. He had lowered his face, as if to hide it
from her.
    O’Dell yelled into the microphone, “Number
two, put your head up and look directly in front of you!”
    Number two complied. He was a Hispanic male
in his early thirties, short and well built. Raven hair was tightly
cropped around an oval, handsome face. Despite this, he wore a
perpetual scowl.
    Beverly felt like he was staring right at
her. It gave her an eerie feeling. But it wasn’t her feelings that
counted. I’m not the one who was raped and sodomized.
    “It’s him—” Maxine uttered in barely a
whisper.
    “Are you positive it’s number two?”
Beverly asked her.
    “Yes!” Maxine raised her voice and was more
emphatic. “That man’s the one who shot Sheldon and—” Her voice
broke.
    “Good enough,” O’Dell said, sparing her any
further indignity. “That will be all, Hector,” he shouted into the
room.
    The order was meant for one of the Hispanic
men, a detective named Hector Oliverez, who had volunteered to be
in the lineup.
    “Would you like some water or something?”
Beverly offered Maxine, her own throat suddenly feeling
parched.
    “No,” she said, looking as if she were
suddenly short of breath. “Just need some fresh air.”
    Grant grabbed her arm to keep her from
falling on the spot. “It’ll be all right,” he tried to assure her,
hoping they were not just empty words. They needed her to remain
strong at this time. But could Maxine Crawford hold up under the
pressure she was about to face?
    “We’ve got the bastard!” O’Dell declared,
turning to Maxine. “He’s never going to get the chance to hurt you
or anyone else again—!”
    It was a promise Beverly had heard all too
often, only to see it broken time and time again because of victims
backing out of their responsibility or credibility issues,
mishandling of evidence, police misconduct, judicial improprieties,
appeals, and even defense victories. This case was far from a done
deal. But they had definitely taken an all important first step.
They had themselves a bona fide, witness identified, suspect named
Rafael Santiago.
    * * *
    “Do you want to grab a bite to eat?” Grant
asked as they left the station.
    “Where did you have in mind?” Beverly licked
the roof of her mouth, for some reason feeling as if she hadn’t
eaten in weeks.
    “My place,” he said as casually as if it were
a five star restaurant. “I can’t think of a better place to have a
couple of broiled steaks, baked potatoes, and a bottle of red
wine.” He eyed her ravenously. “Can you?”
    Beverly felt her knees buckle from his
persuasive stare. “No, not really.”
    She missed spending quality time with him.
But it had been nearly impossible of late—with the exception of
their victory celebration a few days ago—given their busy
schedules.
    They got into a dark gray Cadillac. It
matched the color of the sky, which suggested a big storm was in
the making. Stormy autumn weather was just a fact of life Beverly
had gotten used to in her thirty-two years of living in Eagles
Landing, contrary to the image that it never rained in California.
But she wasn’t