Today's Reading
TEN YEARS LATER
WEEKS! Ten WEEKS later.
Sorry, ten weeks later.
CHAPTER ONE
Lucy's Not Crocheting (Worrisome)
"The prosecution may cross-examine."
Standing, the prosecuting attorney picked up a notepad and a sheaf of papers. She made her way to the witness stand, smiling gently at the man sitting there. Jurors Number Four and Number Five liked it when she smiled. Either that, or they were thinking about how soon they would get to leave. Honestly, they could have been thinking about anything.
The prosecuting attorney was in her late twenties, Indian American, with curly black hair pulled into a thick braid that fell down her back. Her kind smile was enough to distract most people from the determined gleam in her eyes and the confident set of her shoulders.
She placed a piece of paper in front of the witness, tapping it with a finger.
"Mr. Davies, these photos, marked D-7 and D-8—"
The judge peered over the edge of his bench. "Are these in evidence?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
The judge sat back in his seat.
Returning to the witness, the attorney smiled gently again. "Mr. Davies, do you recognize the location in these photos?"
Mr. Davies examined the photos. "It's a bus stop."
"Is this you sitting at the bus stop?" the attorney questioned.
The witness hesitated for an almost imperceptible moment. "Yes, that's me."
"Do you remember what you were doing at this bus stop?"
Mr. Davies cracked a grin. "Probably waiting for the bus."
Low chuckles ran through the jury as the defense attorney dropped his chin to hide a smile. The judge gave a half shrug to himself, as if to say, "He's not wrong."
The prosecuting attorney smiled, acquiescing. Her smile tightened as she briefly faced the gallery before addressing the witness again.
"Of course. Do you know where you would've been taking the bus to, that day?"
"Objection." The defense attorney stood. "Your Honor, the photographs aren't dated. Mr. Davies can't be expected to—"
"I can rephrase," the prosecuting attorney said. "Mr. Davies, is this your regular bus stop?"
"Yes."
"It's not the closest bus stop to your current residence; were you aware of that?"
Mr. Davies shrugged. "I'm a creature of habit. It's the stop I'd use at the old house, before Carly kicked me out." He nodded at the woman sitting at the prosecution's table, her shoulders tensing when he said her name.
The attorney referenced her pad of paper. "You regularly take the bus to visit your mother at her nursing home, is that correct? Multiple times a week?"
"Yes."
"I see you're holding a bouquet of flowers in these photos." The attorney walked up to the witness stand to point at one of the photos. "Were these for your mother?"
"Yes," Mr. Davies said with practiced swiftness. He smiled. "Mom loves peonies."
Okay, Juror Number Four definitely liked that.
...
