Page 114 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 110

Rockingham County Courthouse, New Hampshire

Y our Honor, the State calls Lindsay Farrow.

”

The courtroom doors open and a young woman walks in.

She’s wearing a forest-green pantsuit, and she’s movie-star beautiful.

She’s sworn in, then sits down in the witness chair.

“Ms. Farrow, could you tell us your full name, title, and employer?”

“Lindsay Anne Farrow. Manager of digital services, northeast division, Walmart.”

“And can you describe the scope of your job, please?”

“Yes. I supervise the technical aspects of the stores in my region. Scanners, computers, routers, modems, surveillance systems.”

“Ms. Farrow, are you familiar with an initiative called Operation Harvest?”

“I am.”

“Can you describe it?”

“Yes, though it was before my time at the company. It was an experimental program for the centralized storage of surveillance content that Walmart briefly implemented. During that time, security footage from all our locations was collected and logged on a server at headquarters in Bentonville, Arkansas.”

“Ms. Farrow, were you asked to retrieve surveillance footage from that period from a specific store on a specific date and time?”

“I was, yes. Detective Sergeant Marie Gagnon requested it.”

“Your Honor, State’s exhibit thirty-two.” Bastinelli clicks the controller.

The screen lights up.

On the screen is a video.

He freezes the image.

I almost jump out of my seat at the sight of Cole Wright and Suzanne Bonanno standing together in a checkout line.

I realize that I’ve never actually seen an image of Suzanne and Cole together.

I stare intently at the screen, searching their faces and body language for clues.

One thing I can see clearly is the tennis bracelet on Suzanne’s wrist. I hope the jury sees it too.

A buzz runs through the room, followed by gasps and whispers throughout the gallery.

The judge bangs his gavel.

“Order!”

Bastinelli ignores the disturbance.

“Ms. Farrow, can you decipher for us the digital code at the bottom of this image?”

“Of course. The first part is the store location. In this case, the Seabrook location. Then the date, June seventh. Then the time code, nineteen thirty-two, which is seven thirty-two p.m.”

The night Suzanne Bonanno disappeared!

Bastinelli unfreezes the video.

The bustle in the front of the store comes to life.

At register 2, Cole is in front, with Suzanne just a step behind him.

Nothing odd or strained about their expressions.

Just two normal shoppers, except that he’s a famous football player and she’s a professional cheerleader.

The checkout clerk’s hand reaches over to pick up an item Suzanne is touching—a blue package with a gold and black label.

Bastinelli freezes that image.

“Ms. Farrow, were you able to determine what that item is?”

“I was. It’s a set of blue polyester bedsheets.”

“Were you able to trace the vendor?”

“Yes. It was Formosa Industries in Taiwan.”

Bam!

Connection made.

I hope the jury is connecting the dots too.

Suzanne and Cole were together that night.

Suzanne bought sheets.

She disappeared later that night.

Then she ended up buried in those sheets.

That cannot all be mere coincidence.

The screen is black now, but the images are burned into my brain.

The last known images of Suzanne Bonanno alive.

Right now, those images don’t look great for Cole Wright.