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Mary Elena would be meeting her in the lot at eight, giving them enough time to go upstairs and meet with Nick Gaines again before heading to the courtroom doors at a few minutes to nine. Yuki hoped that despite Mary Elena’s earlier interaction with Gaines, she would recognize that he was a good guy and valuable to them both.
There was still time, but Yuki paced, looking up and down the street for Mary Elena’s car. A new potential obstacle appeared to her: it was possible that one of Mary Elena’s alternate personalities would tell her to stay in bed, and she’d go for that; ditch the trial due to stress and outright fear.
She pictured Olivia on Dr. Aronson’s tape: a vulnerable-looking, very feminized version of Mary Elena. Olivia twisted her hair, crossed and uncrossed her legs, and spoke in a soft voice while looking at the doctor.
Yuki hated the thought, buthadMary Elena as Olivia come on to Tyler Cates, as he maintained? Even so, flirting wasn’t consent, not for rape, not for aggravated assault, not for sex at all. Legally, if the attacker knew that the would-be sex object had a mental disorder and could not give informed consent, it was a serious crime with a jail sentence penalty.
The sky darkened with rain clouds. Checking the time, Yuki saw that it was ten after eight.Where are you, Mary Elena?
She watched the morning rush on Bryant, frozen at the traffic light. A mob of press gathered across the street, reporters from local news stations as well as unfamiliar faces. This much attention to the People versus Tyler Cates was unexpected and a little daunting.
Yuki heard someone call her name over the street uproar. It was Cindy, looking for an opening in the stream of traffic, and about to step off the sidewalk and cross the street toward her.
Yuki waved her off,no, no, no,but called Cindy’s phone.
“I can’t talk now, Cin. Later, okay?”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
As Yuki walked back to her car, a silver Camaro took a turn into the lot and pulled up to the ticket booth.
It was Mary Elena. Shouts came from the gaggle of reporters across Bryant waiting for the light to change.
The young woman looked alarmed as Yuki got into the passenger seat. “Quick,” Yuki said, buckling her seat belt. “Make a U-turn and take a right. I’ll tell you where to go.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Hungry press,” Yuki said. “I don’t want them to interview you. They can’t follow us through the back door.”
Mary Elena followed Yuki’s directions and parked under the overpass on Harriet. Yuki then hurried them down the breezeway to the Hall’s back entrance. But her diversionary tactic didn’t stop a dozen reporters from racing ahead, blocking their way. Mary Elena spun on her heels yelling, “Go away!”
Her voice was that of a little girl. Her face was flushed and her eyes stretched wide-open. The reporters stopped, a few backing up. Before they could make another move, Yuki had opened the lobby’s rear door. Security guards let her and Mary Elena into the building but the press was shut out.
Yuki said, “Lily?”
“Mary Elena,” she said. “I’m Mary Elena.”
“Oh, good.”
Twenty minutes later, Yuki, Mary Elena, and Nick Gaines settled into their seats at the prosecution table in Courtroom 8G. Soon enough, the courtroom would be called to order.
CHAPTER 14
JOE WAS PATCHING a leak under the kitchen sink when his phone rang. He was alone in the apartment—Lindsay was at work and Julie was at school.
He backed out of the cabinet, banging his head on the lip of the counter. Banged it hard. Calling himself an effing dummy, he reached his phone on the third ring and said, “Molinari.”
The voice on the line belonged to Craig Steinmetz, section chief of the FBI’s San Francisco office.
“Can you come in? I want you to meet someone.”
“I can be there in an hour.”
“Half hour would be better.”
“Okay,” Joe said. “If I don’t shave.”