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She smiles and stands, shoving her water back into her pack and we head up to the top of the mountain.
***
Isip my coffee asI look over Mr. Johnson’s home invasion case. I certainly believe the guy is innocent. They have no evidence except Mr. Larsen, who picked him up out of a photo lineup, and honestly, for him to have had to spend the weekend in jail over that is bullshit, even if he’s guilty. They certainly aren’t going to convict him with just that. As I read over the case, it’s so full of holes, I could drive a truck through it.
I go into Melinda’s office and knock on the doorframe. “Got a minute?”
She nods and indicates the seat in front of her desk. “Sure, whatcha got?”
“The DA has nothing on this case for Johnson. I think you should make a motion to dismiss.”
“Really? There’s nothing at all?”
I shake my head. “No. The old guy can’t describe the suspects properly, and the old lady is unfortunately still in a coma. None of the stolen items have been recovered or reported from pawn shops. They only took cash from their safe and wallets, so no credit cards to trace.”
She looks at the file, then at me. “What do you think? Do you think he’s guilty?”
This question surprises me because she usually doesn’t ask this. So I say, “Well, like you say, it doesn’t matter. Our job is to get him off.”
“I know.” She smiles knowingly. “I’m just curious what you think.”
“I mean, after meeting him and talking with him, I don’t think he is. And the evidence is pointing the same way.”
“I feel the same way, but we can’t make a motion to dismiss until Mrs. Larsen wakes. And if she doesn’t... it’s now a murder case. That will extremely complicate things.”
“Damn. I hope not. Poor lady.” I look down.
“Why don’t you go down to the hospital and talk to the old guy?”
I look up at her. “I thought he was discharged. Just a broken arm and some bruises, right?”
She nods. “Yes, he was, but he’s at her bedside when he’s not sleeping.”
Damn.
“Okay, what hospital?”
“Denver General. She’s in room 600. I’ll call ahead and let them know.”
I nod and leave her office. I grab the file before getting into my BMW and heading to the hospital.
***
Iquickly locate Mrs. Larsen’s room and stop short at the door. Mr. Larsen, in a plaid button-up shirt and khaki slacks, sits next to his wife’s bed in a wooden chair with red cushions. He holds a book with one hand, and is reading quietly from it. His other arm is in a cast, being held by a navy blue sling.
I glance at his wife. She looks peaceful, her head is wrapped in a bandage, and the covers are pulled up to her chest covered by a floral blue hospital gown. There’s an IV on a pole, connected to her arm. A machine beeps softly in the background.
I can’t quite hear what he’s reading but she doesn’t react at all. She just looks to be in a deep sleep.
I knock softly on the doorframe. “Mr. Larsen?”
He turns and looks at me, narrowing brown eyes at me. “What?”
“I’m Christa Alvarez, with the attorneys’ office. Can I have a word with you, please?”
“Attorney? For who?” He does not seem happy to see me. I cannot blame him.
“For Mr. Johnson. I need to ask you some questions.”
