Page 108 of Two Kinds of Stranger

We had a half decent jury. There was nobody there that I thought might be particularly troublesome. One guy, who I knew Bernice wanted, was divorced, in his late forties and came across as slightly misogynistic. Bernice was as straight as they come, but even fair prosecutors don’t mind putting someone on the jury who is going to give them an easy ride. I thought the juror could be persuaded. Along with that overly masculine swagger, the guy had something else bubbling away–a distrust of authority. I could use that.

I’d warned Elly already about Bernice’s opening, that things would be said in this room that would be incredibly painful for her to hear. That she was not to react. For any normal person, hearing someone say that you had ruthlessly murdered three people who you loved would drive you crazy. You could be forgiven for any number of reactions: standing up and screaming that this was all lies, that you were innocent, or burying your face in your hands and crying at the pain of the accusation. These are all normal reactions.

Juries are smart. When the prosecutor lands a punch, a lot of jurors look to the defendant to gauge how it lands. Sometimes, bad jurors put more weight behind a defendant’s body language than the actual evidence they hear in court.

I’d told Elly not to react at all, which is almost impossible. I told her to place her hands on the table. Look straight ahead. And if she needed to cry she had to do it quietly.

I told her that I had to be her voice now. In this place, words matter. How you handle yourself matters. That we were at war. And in war you take some hits.

I also explained that Bernice, and even Detective Sacks, were not framing her for murder. They were following the evidence and motives that had been carefully laid out for them by the stranger who tried to kill her. He was the reason she was in this position.

Bernice finished her opening statement, and I stood up and moved to the well of the court, the very central point in the circle of jurors, judge, lawyers and the witness stand.

‘Members of the jury, I am grateful to Ms. Mazur for outlining the main issues in this trial. There are a lot of questions you are going to have to ask yourself before this case is over. I want to help you answer those questions. Some will be difficult. Some will be easy for you to answer. I want you all to keep an open mind, and to remember that the burden is on the prosecution to prove guilt beyond all reasonable doubt. What is the prosecution’s case? Their case is my client has murdered three people by administering poison to them, resulting in their death. Ms. Mazur will tell you that these three murders demonstrate a pattern of behavior from a single ruthless killer. Frankly, we agree. . .’

I paused, listened to the audible gasps from the gallery and even a few from the jury.

‘All three victims in this case were given lethal doses of poison by a dangerous, psychopathic killer. The only problem is that killer isnotsitting at the defense table,’ I said, pointing to Elly. ‘That killer is not on trial here today, but don’t worry. During the course of this trial, we are going to tell you all about him.And, yes, it is a man. An extremely dangerous man who is out on the street right now. A dark stranger who is a walking death sentence to anyone he chooses to target. Elly Parker is on trial because this killer wants her to be. He wants her to pay for his crimes. He has set her up. My one word of advice, while you listen to evidence in this trial, is this–ask yourself this question–is there evidence against the defendant in this case because she’s guilty, or because someone else wanted it to look that way?’

I turned and looked at the gallery, particularly the front two rows, filled with reporters.

‘We’re not just going to speculate about some other person who might have committed these murders. We’re going to describe this person to you in detail. We’re going to show you how he committed these crimes. The defendant is going to tell you how this man almost killed her in the same exact way that he murdered the victims in this case. She’s met this man. And she is going to tell you what he looks like. The prosecution will tell you not to take the defendant’s word for it. Don’t worry – you won’t have to. It’s not just the defendant that has seen this man. We will call for testimony from an eyewitness who saw this killer. The witness, Joseph Novak, will testify that he helped save the defendant’s life aftershewas poisoned by this killer. Joseph Novak will testify that he saw this man. He will describe him to you. He will tell you that this man murdered his friend. Shot him dead in the street, believing him to be Mr. Novak. Once you hear this testimony, at the conclusion of this trial, I have no doubt you will find the defendant not guilty. My only hope is that once this case is over, the NYPD will turn their attention toward finding the real killer.’

I stood there for a few seconds, letting the faint echo of my voice die on the walls of the courtroom, and sink in with the jury. As I took my seat, I checked out the reporters. They were all writing in their notebooks or making notes on their phones. Thename of the defense’s star witness in the Elly Parker case would soon be on the front page of every newspaper and news site that covered the city and this high-profile case.

Everyone would be looking for Joseph Novak.

I was counting on it.

42

Logan

Logan didn’t like surprises.

Hearing Flynn tell the court that Joseph Novak was going to testify for the defense was a surprise, considering Logan had shot him dead months ago. He had felt it in his chest, a sudden collapse, as if all the air was being squeezed from his body. After the initial shock of the revelation, he thought Flynn was bluffing. But it would be very strange to tell the jury about a witness and then not call them to the stand.

Logan’s teeth squeaked, and he realized he had been grinding his jaw.

He thought back to that night.

It couldn’t be.

He’d seen Joe Novak next to Lake. They were walking side by side. He’d worn the same dirty, ripped coat as he’d worn when he first saw the man. And the shots were on target. Novak had dropped fast.

But he hadn’t seen the man’s face. It had been covered with a scarf.

Logan closed his eyes, blocked out the sounds of the crowd around him: the low buzzing of breath, shoes shuffling, sniffs, coughs, the ruffling of clothes and coats, and the whispers.

He thought not just about that night. He thought about the days leading up to it. There was no doubt that Novak did not want to be found. That he was frightened.

Could he have given his coat to a friend? Could that person have pretended to be Novak, at least for a short while, with Lake, to allow Joe to make a quiet exit?

It was possible. It was smart. To survive on the streets of New York for a long time takes more than luck. It takes someone to be smart. To be able to read the streets and the people who occupied them to stay one step ahead of the robbers, the thieves, the psychopaths and the cops.

His right fist tightened.

He opened a messaging app on his phone, and sent a secure text to the only contact within that app. A man who sold handguns. The man who had sold him the Beretta he’d used that night.