Alex Cross: Cross Justice Part 19

"Smart? Good-looking?"

"Yes," she said. "And he seemed to care about everyone."

Stefan glared at a legal pad during this entire exchange, scribbling with a pen and shaking his head.

"He seemed to care about everyone," Strong repeated.

"Yes."

"But especially you?"

Lawrence said, "I guess so. Yes."

"What happened?"

"Nothing for a while. It was just like flirting with each other."

"And then?"

"It went further," she said quietly.

"When was this?"

"Like, a few months after Billy Jameson and Tyler Marin overdosed and died, and a week before Stefan killed Rashawn."

"Objection!" Naomi cried.

"Sustained," Judge Varney said. "The jury will ignore that."

"So tell us what happened," Strong said.

You could see Sharon Lawrence wanted to be anywhere but in the courtroom as she mustered up her energy and said that after the two overdoses, my cousin became obsessed with finding out who the drug dealers were.

"He talked about it in cla.s.s," she said. "Asking anybody who knew anything to come forward."

"Did they?"

"I don't know. And it didn't matter anyway, it was all a bunch of lies."

"Objection," Naomi said.

"Overruled," Judge Varney said.

Strong said, "Can you tell us why you think they were lies?"

"Because Coach Tate was the one dealing the drugs," Lawrence said.

"Objection!"

"Your Honor, with the court's indulgence, Miss Lawrence will explain the basis of her contention."

"Proceed, but you're on a short leash, Counselor."

"What makes you think Coach Tate was dealing drugs?"

"He told me," Lawrence said. "He showed me."

"Where were you when this happened?"

"At his place."

"How did you come to be at his house?"

"At school that morning, he'd asked me to stop by," Lawrence said. "He said Ms. Converse would be down in Raleigh at a doctor's appointment."

I glanced over at Patty Converse, who looked stricken.

Strong said, "And Coach Tate showed you drugs?"

"Yes."

"Did you do drugs with Coach Tate?"

"Yes."

"What kind of drugs?" Strong asked.

Lawrence bit her lower lip, which was trembling. "I don't know all of it. Cocaine for sure. And, like, maybe some meth. He called it a speedball. But I think he put something in my soda too."

"Why do you think that?"

"I woke up a couple of hours later in his bed," she said, looking at her lap again. "I don't remember how I got there. But I was naked and ... sore."

"Sore where?"

"You know," she said, and she started crying.

Strong approached the box, gave her a tissue, said, "You're doing fine."

Lawrence nodded, but she wouldn't look up.

"Was the accused there when you woke up?"

"He came into the room."

"Did he acknowledge having s.e.x with you?"

"Kind of."

"Can you be more specific?"

"He said we shared a little secret now. He said if we didn't keep the secret, I could end up like Billy and Tyler."

"The kids who overdosed?"

Lawrence nodded and broke down again.

After Sharon had composed herself, Strong asked, "Was the s.e.x consensual?"

"No," she said forcefully.

"But you'd gone to Coach Tate's house. You'd done drugs with him. You'd flirted with him. Certainly you must have thought s.e.x might occur."

"Maybe I did. But I was never given the chance to back out or say no."

"He just drugged you."

"Yes," Lawrence said, her shoulders trembling.

"And he raped you?"

"Yes."

"How old were you when this happened?"

"Seventeen."

"You report it?"

She hung her head, said, "Not at first, no."

"How long did you wait until you reported the rape?"

"Like, the day after they arrested Stefan?"

"Seven days," Strong said.

"I wish I had come forward straightaway," Sharon Lawrence said, oozing pain and sincerity. "If I had, maybe that boy would be alive, you know? But I'd seen what Coach Tate was really like, and I was scared for my own life."

CHAPTER 43.

THAT EVENING, DINNER at our house was somber and subdued. We were all there except for Naomi, who was working on her cross-examination, and Patty Converse, who'd been so upset by the testimony that she'd gone home alone.

Aunt Hattie looked equally crushed. She sat quietly with Uncle Cliff and Ethel Fox, who was exhausted from a day spent planning her daughter's funeral but who had insisted on coming over to give her friend moral support.

Aunt Hattie needed it. The Raleigh stations were reporting on Sharon Lawrence's testimony against her son, focusing as much on her story as on her panties from the day of the alleged rape. Lawrence claimed she hadn't washed them because she'd been debating whether or not to turn Stefan in.

Naomi had objected to having the panties introduced as evidence, calling them "tainted, at best," but Varney overruled her after Strong informed the court that a state DNA a.n.a.lyst would testify that dried s.e.m.e.n and v.a.g.i.n.al fluids found on the underwear belonged to my cousin and Sharon Lawrence.

Things looked bleak for the home team.

"Dad?" Ali asked when I went in to tuck him in for bed. "Can we go fis.h.i.+ng sometime while we're here?"

"Fis.h.i.+ng?" I said, flas.h.i.+ng on vague recollections of fis.h.i.+ng with my father and my uncle Cliff when I was very young.

Ali nodded. "I've been watching those shows on the Outdoor Channel. And I met a kid today named Tommy. He says he goes up to Stark Lake fis.h.i.+ng with his father. He says it's fun. Lots of fish."

"Well," I said. "I don't know a thing about fis.h.i.+ng, but if that's what you want to do, we'll figure it out."

Ali brightened. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow could be tough," I admitted. "But let me find out what we'd need and where we'd go."

"You could ask Tom's father," he said, yawning.

"If I see Tom's father, I'll do that," I said, and I tucked the sheets up around his chin. "Love you, buddy. Have a good sleep."

"Love you too, Dad," he said. His eyes were already closed.

When I left the bedroom, Aunt Hattie looked at me and said, "Can you take Cliff over to the house? I'll be right along."

"Oh, sure," I said. "Ready, Uncle Cliff?"

My uncle said nothing, just stared off into s.p.a.ce. Bree held the door open for me, and I wheeled him down the short ramp to the sidewalk.

"Need help?" Bree asked.

"I got it," I said. "Be back soon."

Bree blew me a kiss and went inside. I rolled him to the street, saying, "You still like to fish, Uncle Cliff?"

It was like a lightbulb going on. My uncle went from confused to lucid in two seconds flat. "Love to fish," he said.

"I heard it's good up to the lake," I said.

"Early mornings," Uncle Cliff said, nodding. "You want to be by the stream inlet on the west sh.o.r.e. Not far from my cabin. You know it?"

"I seem to remember it," I said. "Where else is the fis.h.i.+ng good besides the lake?"

"Those big pools below the gorge are always good for trout early and late."