“That’s bullshit.”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s why I want you to get out of here and find out everything you can about her. Find me something I can burn her to the ground with.”
“I’m on it.”
“Call Cisco if you need help. No stone left unturned, but you’re working against the clock. I should be finished with my witnesses tomorrow. That’s when Morris will bring Moder in.”
“If I’m on this, I won’t be able to get Dr. Arslanian to court tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll deal with her. You go. Call me as soon as you have something. Court is dark this afternoon because Coelho has a judges’ conference. I’m going to put Sanger on the stand now, Arslanian and the rest tomorrow. That includes you, so get going on Moder.”
“I’ll call you. Good luck with Sanger.”
“Luck won’t have anything to do with it.”
Bosch walked off toward the elevator. I checked my watch. There were still a few minutes left in the break. I went into the restroom, cupped my hands under the cold water at a sink, then held my hands to my face. There was a heaviness growing in the center of my chest. It was the feeling of being unprepared. I hated that feeling more than anything in the world.
On my way back to the courtroom I saw Sanger still posted on the bench.
“Not going so good, is it?” she said.
I stopped and looked at her. She had that smirk again.
“It’s going great,” I said. “And you’re next.”
With that, I opened the courtroom door and went in.
The marshals were returning Lucinda from the courtroom lockup to the plaintiff’s table, a sign that the judge was ready. I took my seat next to my client as the shackles came off her wrists and ankles, and one wrist was locked to the steel ring on the underside of the table.
“What will happen now?” she whispered.
“I’m going to call Sanger, put her on the record, then tomorrow we prove she’s a liar.”
“No, I mean what happens now with Isabella?”
“Harry is working on it, trying to find something we can impeach her with.”
“‘Impeach’?”
“Prove she’s lying. You sure you never talked about your case with her?”
“Never. We never talked about her case either.”
“All right. I need you to think, Lucinda. Is there anything you know about her that will help us? I can almost guarantee she’s going to come in here and testify that you told her you killed Roberto. I need to come back at her with something. Is there—”
The marshal interrupted us with his call to rise. We stood and the judge entered the courtroom and bounded up the steps to the bench. Ellen Coelho had been on the federal bench for nearly thirty years. She was a Clinton appointee, which tended to put her on the liberal side, which was good for us. But when push came to shove, I had no idea what her view of jailhouse snitches would be.
“Continuing in the matter of Sanz versus the State of California,” she said. “Mr. Haller, call your next witness.”
I called Stephanie Sanger. Since Bosch was no longer in the hall to wrangle witnesses, I asked the judge to send one of the courtroom marshals to get her. The judge seemed annoyed but complied, and while we waited I turned back to my client.
“I need something to go at Isabella with,” I whispered. “Try to remember what you talked about. When they put the lights out at night, did you two talk?”
“Yes. It’s hard to fall asleep.”
“I can imagine. Did she ever—”
The rear door of the courtroom opened and the marshal entered, followed by Sanger, who walked down the center aisle and through the gate. She stopped by the witness chair and took the oath from the clerk before sitting. I moved to the lectern with my files and notes.
“Your Honor,” I said, “before I begin, I ask the court to declare Deputy Sanger a hostile witness.”
“She’s your witness, Counselor,” Coelho said. “On what grounds should I declare her to be hostile to the petitioner?”
I wanted Sanger declared hostile because it gave me more freedom during direct examination. I could pose leading questions to which only a yes or no was required. This would allow me to stock those questions with facts I wanted the judge to hear, even if Sanger denied them. The information would still get through.
“As you saw this morning, she has already attempted to avoid testifying, Your Honor,” I said. “Add to that a short conversation I just had with her during the break. She clearly doesn’t like me, my client, or being here.”
Morris stood to respond, but Coelho held her hand up like a stop sign.
“Let’s just see how it goes, Mr. Haller,” she said. “Proceed with your examination.”
Morris sat down and Sanger seemed pleased with my failure to persuade the judge.
“Thank you, Judge,” I said. “Deputy Sanger, you are employed by the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, correct?”
“I am,” Sanger said. “And it’s Sergeant.”
“When did you get that promotion?”
“Two years ago.”
“What is your current assignment with the department?”
“I’m assigned to the Antelope Valley substation, where I’m in charge of the gang-intervention unit.”
“You have been with that unit for several years, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And now you are in charge of it.”
“I just said that.”
“Yes, thank you. You were assigned to that unit at the time of Deputy Roberto Sanz’s death, correct?”
“I was.”
“Were the two of you partners?”
“No, we don’t have partners per se on the unit. There are six deputies and a sergeant. We work as a team and on any given day, depending on vacations and sick-outs, you could be partnered with any of the five other deputies. It changes all the time.”
“Thank you, Deputy, for that clarif—”
“Sergeant.”
“I’m sorry. Sergeant. Thank you for the clarification. So, based on that sort of round-robin of interactions and partnerships, is it correct to say you knew Deputy Sanz well?”
“Yes. We worked together for three years before he was murdered by his ex-wife.”
I looked up at the judge.
“Your Honor,” I said, “I’d say that’s pretty hostile. The witness is revealing a belief that is counter to my client’s cause.”
“Just proceed, Mr. Haller,” Coelho said.
I looked at my notes and quickly regrouped. I had to move carefully now and walk Sanger into a truth trap. If I got her under oath and on the record saying something I could later prove false, it would go a long way toward making the case that Lucinda was corruptly or at least wrongfully convicted.
“Let’s talk about the murder of Deputy Sanz,” I said. “It happened on a Sunday. Do you recall how you found out that he had been killed?”
“I got a SORS text,” Sanger said. “Like everybody in the department.”
“Can you tell the judge what a SORS text is?”
“The Special Operations Reporting System is a texting service that allows the department to get messages to all sworn personnel. A text went out that said there had been a deputy-involved shooting in the AV division and that we had lost one of our own.”
“AV as in Antelope Valley?”
“Correct. I then made a call and found out that the deputy killed was Roberto Sanz from my unit.”
“And what did you do?”
“I called another deputy in the unit and we proceeded to the scene to see if we could be of any help.”
“Which deputy was that?”
“Keith Mitchell.”
“Why did you only call him when you say the unit consisted of six deputies and a sergeant?”