The 19th Christmas (Women's Murder Club #19) - James Patterson Page 0,47

or sleeves. No gun had been found on his person, and the murder weapon had not been recovered at all.

Only the witness statements of three neighborhood boys, gang members with arrest records, tied Eduardo to the murder. Eduardo believed that one of them had actually done the murder. She believed Eduardo.

Why hadn’t Peter Bard, Eduardo’s attorney, presented the GSR test results to the judge at his arraignment?

Why hadn’t Bard discredited the so-called witnesses and pointed the finger at them?

Now they had something to go on. Despite his busy schedule, Zac had gotten Varela a pretrial hearing at nine a.m. But Yuki wanted to talk to Eduardo’s original lawyer, Peter Bard.

That was turning out to be impossible. The last place Bard had worked had gone out of business. He didn’t answer his phone. Her email to him had bounced back. During the past two years, he could have moved to Fiji. For all she knew, he had died there.

Why didn’t he answer his damned phone?

Yuki texted both Zac and Cindy to let them know about what might be exculpatory evidence.

GSR test was negative and never mentioned at arraignment.

She put her phone down on the night table, and when it buzzed, Yuki glanced at the screen. Brady.

He had promised to be home hours ago. She didn’t want to break her concentration and get into a long talk with him now on his drive home.

She had her stiff I’m busy voice on when she answered the phone.

“Are you sleeping?” Brady asked.

“Working,” she said.

“Okay. Me, too. Jacobi and I are patrolling the Presidio. Should be home soon.”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

She heard the dispatcher’s staticky voice coming over Brady’s car radio.

“I’ll let you go,” Yuki said to her husband.

“See you in a bit,” he said. “We’ll go get that tree in the morning.”

“Be safe,” she said.

She hung up before any phone kisses could clear the air and got back into the dubious case against Eduardo Varela.

CHAPTER 58

YUKI HAD TURNED out the lights at two, and when she woke up at seven fifteen, she heard and felt Brady sleeping heavily on his side of the bed.

Before she’d conked out last night, she’d uncovered a bombshell that might give Eduardo a get-out-of-jail-free card. But she hadn’t had a chance to give this discovery a shakedown cruise. If her reasoning was flawed, it would blow up on Team Eduardo.

Yuki wanted to talk to Brady but didn’t have it in her to wake him. As she showered, she reviewed the bombshell, thinking how Zac would present the argument.

Now, only an hour before court convened, she was starting to doubt herself. Judge Lauren Innello was hard-core law-and-order. That could work for or against them. If what she’d found was true, would it be enough to convince the judge to overturn the state’s case against Varela?

At twenty to nine Yuki was behind the wheel of her car, navigating the pre-Christmas traffic crush resulting from people doing their last-minute shopping. She was a good driver and managed a faster-than-moderate speed while thinking through the best way to approach the judge.

The prosecuting attorney was Anna Palermo. Yuki knew her only slightly. If Anna was reasonable, if she saw what Yuki saw, maybe she could be persuaded to join with Yuki in taking an official position for the district attorney and withdraw the charges.

If Anna agreed, the judge would go along with them.

The lot across from the Hall of Justice was full, and there were no empty spots on either side of Bryant Street. Yuki circled the Hall, and when she saw nothing, she ranged farther away, eventually finding one-hour metered parking outside a camera shop on Ninth.

She would get a ticket, but it couldn’t be helped.

She grabbed her computer case from the seat beside her, fought to release her seat belt, and locked up her car. Then, dodging pedestrians and ignoring red lights, she turned left on Bryant, dashed two and a half blocks northeast, and still had enough wind to sprint up the courthouse steps.

The security guard just inside the courthouse gave her a look—well, Yuki did look frazzled—but after checking her ID and running her bag and laptop through the magnetometer, he let her through.

“You really shouldn’t run in heels,” he called out. “My wife …”

She was out of range before he finished his sentence.

The elevator door opened on two, and Yuki forced herself to wait for the frail elderly man standing in front of her to exit the car.

Then she flew down the marble hallway with her ID in hand. The