Tess Hardy is very good.

CHAPTER
93

The next witness is clearly uncomfortable in the courtroom. Herb Lucienne, the Sentra driver whom Trooper Steve Josephs pulled over—the guy who was driving a car that turned out to have human bones in its trunk—looks like he would rather be anywhere but here.

When Bastinelli runs Lucienne through his background, I understand why. He has been in and out of jail since he was sixteen. Petty crimes. Nothing as serious as murder.

“Mr. Lucienne, what is your employment status, may I ask?”

Lucienne hunches his shoulders. “Currently unemployed, on parole.”

The deputy AG gets Lucienne to tell the jury about the night an envelope containing cut-up hundred-dollar bills was slipped under his door. To collect the other half, all the witness had to do was pick up a car in a parking lot and drive it to a specific location on Lake Marie, in the White Mountains up north.

“Mr. Lucienne, did it occur to you that you were being asked to do something illegal?”

Lucienne tugs at his collar. “I guess it seemed a little shady,” he admits.

“Is that why you had six beers before taking on the mission? To calm your nerves?”

“I guess so. Maybe so I wouldn’t worry so much.”

“But you really needed that five hundred dollars, didn’t you?”

“Shit, yes!” He glances up at the judge. “Sorry about the language, sir.”

Dow gives him a tight smile. “Proceed, Mr. Lucienne.”

Lucienne doesn’t seem to know anything beyond what he was told that night. Obviously, Bastinelli knew what he would say on the stand. And there’s not much he can do to link him to Cole Wright. But I can’t blame him for trying.

“The truth is, you don’t know who sent you that message, do you?”

“Nope.”

“It could have been somebody acting on behalf of somebody else, correct?”

“I guess so.”

“It could have been somebody with a strong motive to make sure those bones were never discovered, correct? Someone who wanted them to disappear forever.”

“Objection!” Tess Hardy shouts. “Your Honor, Mr. Bastinelli is weaving his own little fairy tale here.”

The judge nods. “Sustained. Mr. Bastinelli, anything else for Mr. Lucienne?”

“Not at this time, Your Honor.”

From where I’m sitting, I figure the AG needs to cut his losses. He looks over at Hardy. “Your witness.”

This time when Hardy walks across the courtroom, she looks like a cat eyeing a canary. I can see Lucienne squirming in his seat as she begins.

“You have to admit that that’s one wild story you just told us. Mysterious note slipped under your door. Clandestine payment for driving a vehicle up to a remote lake. Is that the kind of thing you normally do to make money?”

“No, ma’am,” says Lucienne. “This was the first time.”

I can tell that some of the jurors are trying not to laugh.