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“Yes,” she said, looking disgusted. “I don’t know how he got it.”
“One last question,” Naomi said. “Did Finn Davis ask you to plant drugs in the athletic bag of Jannie Cross?”
“Objection; relevance,” Strong said.
Varney again looked caught between a rock and a hard place and finally said, “Sustained.”
“He did ask,” Sharon said anyway. “Finn. He promised me two thousand a month if I put the drugs in her bag. Are we going to jail? Me and Mom?”
This last question was aimed at Judge Varney, who said, “That’s a matter for another time and place, young lady. You’re dismissed for the time being.”
If it was possible, Sharon Lawrence looked even smaller and weaker when she got up and left the witness stand. She didn’t look at Stefan or any of us, just slid in next to her mother, who held her tight, whispered, “It’s all right. We’re going to be all right.”
“Judge,” Naomi said. “Based on Ms. Lawrence’s recanting of her testimony and the overwhelming physical evidence, the defense moves that the rape charges against my client be dropped.”
Varney licked his lips, said, “Ms. Strong?”
The district attorney hesitated, and then said, “The state does not object.”
“So ordered,” Varney said.
Naomi went over and put her hand on Stefan’s shoulder, said, “The defense asks that Detective Frost retake the stand.”
Varney looked at his watch and then nodded.
Frost looked rattled when he took his seat.
Naomi took up more documents, said, “The defense wishes to enter the next exhibit, a second series of FBI tests based on evidence found at the murder scene.”
Again Strong voiced no objection, just took her copy of the test, as if fearing its contents.
Frost took his copy as Naomi said, “This is a drug test done on semen samples taken off Rashawn Turnbull’s body, correct, Detective?”
Frost scanned the document, said, “It is.”
“This would be the same semen sample that the state’s DNA testing identified as belonging to my client?”
“Uh, correct.”
“Please read pages four and five,” Naomi said.
Frost flipped the pages and read, and it was like watching a balloon with a slow leak wilt and collapse.
Naomi said, “Detective Frost, can you read aloud the results of the test on my client’s semen gathered off Rashawn Turnbull’s body?”
Frost chewed the inside of his lip. He said in a defeated voice, “‘Negative for drugs and alcohol.’”
“‘Negative for drugs and alcohol,’” she repeated to the jury. “The prosecution says my client drank to excess, did copious quantities of drugs, and went into a berserk rage on the night of Rashawn’s rape and murder. But the FBI says Stefan Tate was stone-cold sober when that semen was produced.”
Chapter
95
Bree slid into the seat in the courtroom I’d been saving for her. Her eyes were shining when she whispered, “I’ve got something. Something big.”
“Hold on,” I whispered back. “Naomi’s about to destroy the state’s case.”
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