Ch.9: The Cross-Examination

The courtroom was a pressure cooker. Judge Halloway had denied the duress plea, as expected, but he couldn't deny me the right to cross-examine the arresting officer.

Captain Miller sat in the witness stand, his uniform pressed, his medals gleaming under the lights. He looked like the picture of law and order.

But I knew better. I knew what was in his bank account.

I walked to the podium, placing the metal shard Julian had given me—the key to the Ghost Drive—on the table, hidden under a stack of files. It was my anchor.

"Captain Miller," I began, my voice steady. "You arrived at the scene at 9:15 PM. Correct?"

"That is correct, Counselor."

"And you observed the defendant, Mr. Vane, in the driver's seat of the Porsche?"

"I did. He was intoxicated and disoriented."

"Disoriented," I repeated. "Did he say anything to you?"

Miller smiled, a small, patronizing twist of his lips. "He asked if he could buy his way out of it."

The gallery murmured. The P-Stock ticker dipped. **VANE INNOCENT: 22%**.

It was a lie. A rehearsed line to bury Julian.

"Interesting," I said, tapping my pen on the podium. "Because according to your body cam footage—which I subpoenaed this morning—the audio was corrupted for the first three minutes of the arrest. A technical glitch?"

"Equipment malfunctions happen, Ms. Vance."

"They do," I agreed. "Especially when the officer manually disables the recording. But let's move on."

I picked up a document. It wasn't evidence. It was a printout of a horse racing betting slip from the OTB parlor on 5th Street.

"Captain, can you walk us through the chain of custody for the victim's personal effects?"

"Standard procedure. Bagged and tagged at the scene. Logged into evidence at the precinct."

"And did you find a phone on the victim?"

"No. No phone was recovered."

"No phone," I said, pacing closer to the witness box. "That's strange. My brother was a millennial. He lived on his phone. He never went anywhere without it."

"Maybe it was destroyed in the impact."

"Or maybe," I said, leaning on the railing, "it contained messages that proved he was lured to that intersection."

"Objection!" Sterling shouted. "Counsel is testifying!"

"Sustained," Halloway grumbled. "Move it along, Ms. Vance."

I looked Miller in the eye. I needed to break him. I needed to make him panic.

"Captain, let's talk about the timeline. You logged the evidence at 10:00 PM. But the precinct logs show you didn't swipe your badge into the evidence room until 10:45 PM. Where were you for forty-five minutes?"

Miller didn't blink. "I was completing paperwork in my cruiser."

"Paperwork," I nodded. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

I held up the betting slip.

"Because I have a record here from a digital transaction made at 10:15 PM. A transaction tied to a biometric ID."

Miller's eyes flicked to the paper. His posture stiffened.

"This transaction," I continued, lowering my voice so the jury had to lean in to hear, "was a payment of fifty thousand credits to a bookie named 'Knuckles' via an offshore shell account."

Miller's face went gray.

"That's irrelevant," he snapped.

"Is it?" I asked. "Because fifty thousand credits is exactly the amount of your outstanding gambling debt, Captain. A debt that was paid in full... twenty minutes after you arrested a billionaire."

The courtroom went silent. Even Halloway stopped writing.

"Who paid your debt, Captain?" I slammed the paper onto the railing. "Was it a lucky bet? Or was it a bonus for ensuring the body cam 'malfunctioned'?"

"Objection!" Sterling roared, jumping to his feet. "This is character assassination! There is no proof of any payment!"

"I have the bank routing numbers!" I shouted back, bluffing with everything I had. "I have the transfer logs! Do you want me to read them to the jury?"

Miller was sweating now. Visible beads of perspiration on his forehead. He looked at Sterling. A desperate, pleading look.

*I have him,* I thought. *He's going to crack.*

The P-Stock was climbing. **VANE INNOCENT: 38%**.

"Answer the question, Captain!" I demanded. "Did you tamper with the evidence to pay off your debts?"

Miller opened his mouth. He looked ready to fold. To blame Sterling. To save himself.

Then I looked at the gallery.

Marcus Sterling was sitting in the front row. He wasn't angry. He wasn't worried.

He was smiling.

A cold chill went down my spine. Why was he smiling when I was destroying his star witness?

Miller looked at Sterling too. He saw the smile. And suddenly, the fear in Miller's eyes vanished. It was replaced by something worse. Resignation.

"I didn't tamper with anything," Miller said, his voice flat, robotic. "But I did find something on the victim that I didn't log."

"What?" I asked, faltering. This wasn't the script.

"I found a receipt," Miller said, reaching into his pocket. "I kept it because I thought it was... personal. But maybe it's relevant."

He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

"It's a receipt for a purchase made at 4:30 PM on the day of the murder. From a chemical supply store."

Sterling stood up slowly. "Your Honor, the Prosecution was unaware of this evidence, but in the interest of justice..."

"Let me see it," Halloway ordered.

The bailiff took the receipt from Miller and handed it to the Judge. Halloway read it. His eyebrows shot up.

"Ms. Vance," Halloway said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "You might want to sit down."

"What is it?" I demanded.

"It's a receipt for cyanide," Halloway read aloud. "Purchase made by Liam Vance. And it's co-signed..."

He looked at me.

"...by Harper Vance."

The room spun.

"That's a lie," I whispered. "I never signed anything."

"The signature is digital," Halloway said. "Verified by your bar association ID key."

Sterling turned to the jury, his face a mask of sorrow.

"The victim didn't just die, ladies and gentlemen. He was poisoned. And it appears his own sister bought the poison."

He sweated. I had him. But then I looked at the gallery. Marcus Sterling was smiling. Why was he smiling when I was winning?