Dog Tags (31 page)

But Erskine was reneging on that agreement. If it was blackmail, as we’ve suspected all along, then Erskine thought he could
get away with not turning over the promised material in return for payment. If that is the case, it was a brazen and risky
act, because surely Erskine must have known he was dealing with dangerous people.

Of course, the contents of the envelope did not figure in Erskine’s death, since the shooter hadn’t had a chance to open it
before Milo intervened. The murder was committed as Milo entered the picture,
which means that the shooter, or whoever sent him, still believed wrongly that Erskine would uphold his end of the bargain.

“Let’s assume that they were killing Erskine for what he knew, and just getting the envelope wasn’t good enough to make them
feel secure,” Laurie says. “They must have believed that the other soldiers knew the same thing, so they set about to eliminate
them as well.”

“Santiago asked me about Jason Greer,” I say. “He claimed that he and Greer were the only ones who knew the truth, that Greer
had confided in him.”

Laurie nods. “But the killers didn’t know that, or at least didn’t want to chance it. If they eliminate everyone, then no
one can hurt them.”

“They think the envelope lost out there is just as dangerous, which is why they want Milo.”

Milo looks up at the mention of his name. I think he’s a little annoyed that no one is paying much attention to him or praising
him for his performance. It’s sort of like Eliza Doolittle’s pique that she didn’t get the credit from Professor Higgins for
doing so well at the fancy party.

Milo, of course, has a point. It’s not his fault the envelope contained basically nothing. He did his job, and this is the
thanks he gets.

“What do we do with the envelope?” Hike asks.

It’s a good question, and one I should have been thinking about. “What’s your recommendation?” I ask.

“We sit on it. We have no obligation to turn it over to the court. It wasn’t part of the prosecution’s case, but even if it
was, I think we’re on solid grounds holding on to it.”

I nod. “Agreed.”

“The other positive in not revealing it is that the killers will be more likely to make a mistake and reveal themselves if
they think the envelope is still out there and dangerous to them.”

“Of course, their mistake could involve killing Milo and Billy’s lead counsel, better known as me,” I say.

Laurie turns to Hike. “I’d say that’s a risk we have to take, wouldn’t you?”

Hike shrugs. “No guts, no glory.”

“How are you doing with the evening news show that his wife says upset Alex Bryant?”

“It was supposed to be delivered to my house this morning,” he says. “I’m going to watch it now, unless you want to go over
tomorrow’s witnesses.”

I shake my head. “I can do that myself. That tape is important; we’re running out of things to count on.” The envelope turning
up dry was a big letdown for us. Had it contained incriminating facts about the bombing in Iraq, it could have gone a huge
way toward making our case.

I was prepared for the envelope not to help us, because I thought it unlikely that we could get Milo to find it. The fact
that he did, and we still received no help, is a major disappointment.

But I am feeling slightly more confident about the trial overall. We begin presenting our case tomorrow, and I think there’s
a decent chance the jury will find Santiago’s murder, as well as the disappearance of his fellow soldiers, to be relevant
to the case before them. And if it’s relevant, it certainly has the capacity to create reasonable doubt.

My problem is in connecting Erskine more closely to the other soldiers. They were found culpable and discharged from the army;
he was not. They seem to have come into sudden wealth; we have found no evidence that the same is true for Erskine. And unfortunately,
Erskine is the one Billy is accused of murdering.

I spend the evening reviewing my approach for our witnesses. I just try to go over the basic facts and make sure I can recall
them completely and instantly. I never prepare actual questions to
memorize or read during trial; it cuts down on the spontaneity. But even in direct testimony, surprises can take place, and
I have to be prepared to deal with them instantly and effectively.

I close the file and go into the bedroom at eleven thirty. Laurie has waited up for me, which is a good sign. She is naked
under the covers, which is an extraordinarily good sign.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

I nod. “Yup.”

“Then take your clothes off and get into bed.” This is a comment that would earn entry into the Good Sign Hall of Fame, if
one existed.

Unfortunately, just as I’m ripping my clothes off, the phone rings. I am fully prepared to ignore it, but Laurie says I should
answer it, pointing out that this late at night, it could be important.

I answer, and I hear Hike’s voice, which is the audio equivalent of a cold shower. “Sorry I called so late,” he says. “I must
have had a bad piece of fish; I’ve been puking my guts out.”

“Hike…”

“This a good time?” he asks.

“Not anymore,” I say. “What’s up?”

“I went over the tape of the news show. There’s not much there; mostly local shit. Murders, city council meetings, car accidents,
weather forecasts… that kind of stuff.”

“Nothing on a bigger scale?”

“A few things, but nothing obvious. I’ve made a list of everything, minute by minute. We can go over it tomorrow.”

“Okay, thanks.” What I don’t tell him is that he’s just given me an idea as to how we can narrow it down and figure out what
Alex Bryant was reacting to that night. I don’t tell him this, because it would prolong the conversation, and I would rather
set my feet on fire.

I hang up and immediately call Sam Willis. He answers on the first ring, as he’s done every time I’ve ever called him. “Willis.”

“Sam, sorry to call so late, but I need you to access phone records.” Sam has demonstrated the ability to do this in the past,
and neither of us has let the illegalities of the process deter us.

“Sure, what’s the number?”

“I don’t remember,” I say. “It’s in my office. But the phone was registered to Alex and Kathy Bryant. They live in Teaneck,
on Chapman Avenue.”

“I’ll get the number,” he says. “Is it a landline?”

“I think so.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Calls made from that number on March fourteenth between ten
PM
and midnight. I want to know who was called and the exact time the calls were made.”

“No problem,” he says. “When do you need it?”

“How fast can you get it?”

“Give me half an hour.”

I look over at Laurie, who is still wide awake. “I’ll give you until tomorrow,” I say, and hang up.

“Anything you want to tell me?” Laurie asks.

“You look great,” I say.

“I meant about the case.”

“No,” I say.

“Good.”

O
UR FIRST WITNESS IS
A
RMY
C
APTAIN
N
ATHAN
K
ERSHAW.

He is from the inspector general’s office, and will testify to the contents of the army’s investigative report on the explosion
in Iraq. Colonel Mickelson has arranged for this to happen, probably motivated by his desire to please General Prentice.

Captain Kershaw is at least six foot three, and looks like he weighs about 160 pounds. He’s blond and talks in a slow, Southern
drawl, peppering his answers with a bunch of ‘sirs.’”

I take him through the events of that day in Iraq, which he is thoroughly familiar with, even though he wasn’t there. In a
sense he’s an expert witness, with his expertise his knowledge of the report itself.

When I’m sure the jury has the proper context, I get to the meat of his testimony. “Captain, were any members of the army
discharged as a result of this report and the events of that day?”

“Yes, sir. Five members of the military police.”

“What are their names?” I ask.

“Sergeant First Class Jeremy Iverson, Sergeant First Class Jason
Greer, Sergeant Raymond Santiago, Sergeant Donovan Chambers, and Corporal Tyler Lawson.”

“Were they found responsible for the explosion?”

“Not exactly, sir. They were judged negligent for allowing the perpetrator inside the perimeter.”

“So it was not determined that they acted intentionally?” I ask.

“No, sir.”

“Was it determined that they did not act intentionally?”

He shakes his head. “No, sir. There just wasn’t enough evidence either way. All the investigators could be sure of was the
negligence.”

“And they were dishonorably discharged for that negligence?”

“They received OTH discharges, which means ‘other than honorable,’ sir.”

“I see. Does the army keep track of people with OTH discharges after they leave the service?”

He shakes his head. “We surely do not, sir.”

“What did the report say about Major Erskine?”

“Very little; he was not considered culpable, though the overall command structure was held to be somewhat deficient.”

“Did he resign?”

“Yes, sir. He did. Four months later.”

I let Captain Kershaw off the stand, and Eli cross-examines. There’s really nothing for him to gain, since Kershaw has simply
and accurately reported on what was in the report. Yet Eli questions him for over an hour, probably because he likes being
called “sir.”

I’ve gone back and forth over who to call next. I could go with a witness to the Santiago killing. It just happened, and some
jurors may even be familiar with it. It is likely to have the biggest impact, since it is the only certain evidence we have
that one of the soldiers was killed. For that reason, I’ve decided to save it for last.

I call Lieutenant José Alvarez of the Albuquerque Police
Department to testify regarding Tyler Lawson, who is still listed as a missing person. I would have been better off with an
officer from Vegas, since that’s where the disappearance took place. Unfortunately, but logically, it was a hell of a lot
easier to lure someone to New Jersey from Albuquerque than Vegas.

Alvarez relates the basics: that Lawson had gone to Vegas for an apparent holiday, then went off with some guy and was never
heard from again. The clincher, of course, is the safe loaded with cash that he left behind. The jury does not have to be
filled with Rhodes Scholars to understand the significance of that fact.

Alvarez also reveals that a further search showed Lawson to possess assets of almost five hundred thousand dollars, sitting
untouched in a money market account. The money had been wired in from a Swiss bank account that could not be traced back.

“So taking all of these factors into account, have you formed an impression as to where Mr. Lawson might be?”

“I believe that he is the victim of foul play, and is likely no longer alive.”

Eli points out on cross that Alvarez has no real knowledge of Lawson’s whereabouts, and that it is possible that he ran off
with a woman, possibly to return any day. Alvarez admits that anything is possible, but his experience tells him that there
is little chance that Lawson will ever return.

My last witness of the day makes me a little nervous, but I call Willie Miller anyway. He is there to testify about his trip
to Nassau, and his conversation with Inspector Christian. I introduce the affidavit that Hike got the inspector to sign, and
Willie’s really up there as a witness seat filler, merely to recount and read from the affidavit.

I would have liked to introduce evidence that someone from Nassau, perhaps a rental car agent, had recognized and remembered
M, but no such identification has been made.

I’ve gone over with Willie the importance of sticking to the facts and not going off on a tangent. He handles it pretty well,
at least on the direct testimony. When I turn him over to Eli for cross-examination, my heart is in my throat. There is no
telling what he can get Willie to say.

“I have no questions for this witness,” says Eli.

Thank you, God.

Thank you, Eli.

Not necessarily in that order.