Page 3 of Where Secrets Lie

Hope cleared her throat. “Please state your name for the record.”

Hez turned to the jury box and spoke directly to the jurors, just like he’d always coached witnesses to do. “Hezekiah Webster.”

“When did you first meet the defendant?”

“The day I started investigating the murder of Ellison Abernathy.”

“Why were you investigating that?”

“My wife, Savannah—or, well, she was my wife at the time—she found the body and the police initially showed interest in her. I’m a former prosecutor, so I was representing her.”

“Did you suspect that Mr. Harrison might be the killer?”

“Not at first, but I should have.”

“Why?”

“Because he immediately insinuated himself into the investigation for no obvious reason. He had no law enforcement background or investigative expertise. Also, he had a very busy job and he wasn’t particularly close to Abernathy, and yet he somehow always had time to work on this case.” Hez shook his head, annoyed at the memory of his stupidity—which had nearly gotten Savannah, Simon, and him killed. “I should have suspected that he was trying to figure out whether he was a suspect and divert suspicion away from himself.”

“When did you first begin to think that he might be the killer?”

“It wasn’t until I saw his number on the phone of his coconspirator, Erik Andersen, that I—”

Martine rose in a fluid motion. “Objection. Assumes facts not in evidence. Specifically, assumes that the defendant and Mr. Andersen conspired together.”

“Sustained.” Judge Achilles Hopkins leaned over the bench and arched a bushy eyebrow at Hez. “You know the rules of evidence as well as I do, Mr. Webster.”

Hope smiled. “Let’s take it step-by-step, Mr. Webster.”

Hez’s face grew hot. It had been a stupid mistake brought on by nerves. He started over, with Hope helping him to “lay a foundation,” as all rookie litigators were taught to do, before launching into the story of how he and Savannah caught Beckett’s crony, former TGU European history professor Erik Andersen, red-handed with a smuggled artifact. Andersen tried to call Beckett, but Hez had grabbed the phone before Andersen could press Call.

Hope walked Hez through the rest of his investigation of the murder and smuggling case that dominated his life during the past few months. The jurors listened raptly, and one elderly woman was literally on the edge of her seat. But Hez couldn’t help seeing the holes in the case Hope was building. Someone knocked out Hez while he was outside Beckett’s home, but it probably wasn’t Beckett. He had been inside talking with Savannah—and denying that he had anything to do with the artifact smuggling or anything else. Hez found a bug in his office light fixture, but there was no proof that Beckett planted it. Only the evidence from Erik Andersen’s phone and home—all of which later vanished—connected Beckett to the artifact smuggling. And nothing at all tied him to the scenes of the two murders or the knife used in both.

The only direct evidence tying Beckett to either murder wasa security-camera video that appeared to show him stealing a fleece from Hez’s former client Jessica Legare. That fleece was later found soaked with Abernathy’s blood, wrapped around the murder weapon, and buried on Jess’s property. But the video only caught the thief’s leg, which had a scar that resembled one on Beckett’s left leg.

The best evidence in Hope’s entire case was what Beckett did after Hez and Savannah found the video. Beckett kidnapped them and Simon, knocked them unconscious, and took them out on Bon Secour Bay, where he planned to kill them all. Fortunately, Hez had been wearing a wire, so the police had heard everything Beckett said. Even so, law enforcement barely arrived in time.

Hope milked this part of Hez’s testimony, drawing out every detail. He understood why she was doing it, but reliving that day was brutal.

“What did you see when you woke up on the boat?”

“The first thing I saw was Savannah’s face, right over mine. She looked terrified.”

“Then what happened?”

“She kissed me and told me she loved me.” Hez took a deep breath and fought to keep his voice steady. “I think she wanted me to know before we both died.”

“Did you think you were going to die?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We were lying in the bottom of a boat with our hands and feet bound. Beckett had already threatened us, and that was before we had hard evidence that he was a murderer. His intentions were clear, and he removed all doubt a few seconds later.”

“What did he do?”

Hez forced himself to look at Beckett, who returned his gaze with a stony stare. “He came over holding a pistol and said he really enjoyed seeing us helpless. Then he kicked me in the stomach.”

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