"Ian was only eight years old when he starred in Just the Two of Us. Sounds glamorous, but he had a rough life. His dad was a drunk and his mom was...a mess. He and his two sisters raised themselves, and Ian was the sole support for the whole family. But as soon as he started making money, he really gave back. Sponsored Big Brothertype clubs for underprivileged children, founded that summer camp program for kids in gang territory, and he got that law passed to protect child actors from abuse. Lots of people talk, but Ian really walked the walk."

"Was he close to your family?"

"He was like a second father to Hayley," he said solemnly. "I never worried about my family when I left town for a shoot so long as Ian was around."

Terry covered the meteoric rise of the Antonovich-Powers partnership quickly. A smart move because everyone already knew they were top-tier players. The less said, the better, about a level of wealth and power the jurors could never even imagine, let alone experience.

"You guys have done okay since Wonderland Warriors, haven't you?"

"Yeah, you know, we're comfortable," Russell replied. The "aw shucks" was palpable. It made me want to gag.

"Now, you recall the problems you encountered with your joint venture in the Las Vegas casino?"

"Oh, yes." Russell shook his head. "We were in so far over our heads-had absolutely no idea what we were getting ourselves into."

"So if you had it to do over again, what would you do differently?"

"Well, for sure, I wouldn't listen to the business manager who told us to fire all the union workers. But probably I wouldn't do it at all. We just weren't meant for a cutthroat business like that." His tone was sheepish, his expression a picture of remorse.

I glanced at Ian and saw he was nodding his head, sharing in Russell's mea culpa. Poor, poor Russell and poor, poor Ian. They weren't ruthless jerks who'd dumped service industry veterans out on the street so they could fatten their profit margin. Oh, heavens no! They were just a couple of country bumpkins who'd listened to bad advice. Was the jury buying this fairy tale? I snuck a look at them as I pretended to take notes. They were all leaning forward, engrossed. Some even wore benign smiles that seemed to say, "See? These are just regular guys-they screw up just like me."

"When you didn't rehire the union workers, what happened?"

Russell's expression shifted from remorseful to worried. It was a better performance than he'd ever coaxed out of his stars. He answered in low, serious tones. "They were vicious. We got death threats nearly every day. Someone sent Ian a dead snake with a threatening note, and I got physically attacked when I was out at dinner with some business associates."

I made a note to get him to name those associates, but Terry saw me coming.

"And who are those associates?"

"They're all Japanese businessmen, no longer in this country. But I can get their names for you."

How convenient. I glanced at Ian out of the corner of my eye. He had his elbows on the table and was leaning forward, a look of sorrow on his face. These two should take their act on the road. But the shocked expressions on the jurors' faces told me they were eating it up.

"How long ago was this?"

"It's been almost two years, but I'm still getting threats on my listed phones."

"Did you keep a record of those calls?"

Russell shook his head, his expression frustrated and sad. "I didn't take them seriously. Especially after we sold the casino. I really never thought..." He blinked rapidly and looked away for a few moments. "But I did bring some of the threatening letters." He pulled some envelopes out of his jacket, and Terry moved to the witness stand to retrieve them.

I stood up, angry as I'd ever been during a trial. I was fed up with this trial-by-ambush tactic and I was sick of this judge who repeatedly let them get away with it. I controlled my voice with an effort. "Your Honor, I've never seen or heard of these letters."

What should have drawn a sidebar and serious sanctions merely drew a nod and a mildly stated question from Judge Osterman. "Ms. Fisk, why was this not turned over in discovery?"

"I didn't know he had these letters, Your Honor. I can promise the court that if I had, I would've gladly turned them over."

"Your Honor, I find it impossible to believe-"

Judge Osterman held up a hand and spoke sternly. "Well, I don't, Counsel, so have a seat." He turned back to Terry. "Ms. Fisk, when we break for the day, you'll give them to Ms. Knight and she will have the evening recess to examine them."

"Of course, Your Honor," Terry said. "And I just want to add that I'd never intentionally withhold discovery-"

"Let's not do this here, all right, Counsel? This jury's time is precious. Please continue."

I tried to calm myself with slow, deep breaths, deliberately keeping my eyes down so the judge wouldn't be able to see the fury in them.

Terry walked back to the lectern and made a show of reading the three letters, then put two of them up on the monitor. They were threatening, no doubt about it. You're dead, you bloodsucking asshole. The other one got more creative: I've got arsenic. And I'm still a food server. Enjoy your dinner.

"Were they all like this?" Terry asked Russell.

"Yes. Some were worse. They threatened my family, said that-"

I forced a calm tone. "Objection. Hearsay."

"It's borderline," the judge said. "But I'll sustain the objection."

Terry frowned to telegraph her disagreement but quickly resumed. She had real momentum going with the jury now, and she knew it.

"And how many of these threatening letters did you get?"

"I don't exactly remember. I know it was a lot more than that." He gestured to the few Terry now held. "But I gave the rest to the Las Vegas police. I actually thought I'd given them all to the police, but when you asked me to make sure, I discovered I'd missed these. They may have come in after the police said they'd closed the case."

I'd check with the Las Vegas PD to see if they had a record of this, but I was certain they did. I believed Russell and Ian did get threats. And I didn't much blame the people who'd sent them after the crap those two had pulled.

"Moving forward to the night of the kidnapping, do you remember what you did when you got the first note, the text message from Hayley's phone saying she'd been kidnapped?"

"Yes, I went into the study."

"And did someone join you in the study?"

"My wife, Dani."

"Did you tell her about the text?"

"Yes, and I showed it to her on my cell phone."

"Did you make any calls at that time?"

I sat up. The call to Ian Powers.

"I know the records show I made a call to Ian. I just can't remember why..."

"So you didn't tell him about the kidnapping text?"

"No." He shook his head. "Absolutely not. I was afraid to talk about it on the phone. I thought whoever had Hayley might have me bugged. I know we'd been having some production problems on...something. But why would I bother to call him at a time like that?" Russell spread his hands, his expression perplexed and contrite. "All I can say is, I must have been on autopilot. I know I was about out of my mind." Russell shrugged and shook his head.

I'd predicted that answer, and it was a convincing performance. I didn't buy a second of it.

"What did you do with your cell phone after that?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I think I set it down on my desk. Periodically we would pick it up and look at it." Russell shook his head. "It was so unreal...even now, I can hardly believe it." He dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Would you like to take a break?"

Russell nodded. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"Do you remember anyone else coming into the study that evening?"

"Yes."

"Now, to be clear, I'm talking about the period of time before you got the second note with the ransom demand."

"Yes, I understand. Angela was there. I remember her coming in to bring Dani her tea."

"Do you know where the cell phone was when she came in?"

"I'm pretty sure Dani was holding it, staring at it. I'm not even sure she knew Angela was there. She was kind of in shock. We both were."

"But you noticed Angela? Why?"

"Because, like I said, I was paranoid. I was worried that if the kidnapper found out that anyone else knew, he'd..." Russell swallowed, then continued. "So I wanted her to get out. But she kept fussing, setting up the tea and the brown sugar and who knows what."

Terry paused and gave a sweeping glance across the jury to make sure she had their attention before asking her next question. She needn't have worried. The jury was riveted.

"So...Angela had both the time and opportunity to see the text on your cell phone."

"Yes, certainly."

"Now, you're here testifying for the defense. I take it you don't believe Ian had anything to do with this?"

I could've objected. What Russell believed was irrelevant. But why bother? The jury already knew it by now.

"No. There is not one doubt in my mind about this. Ian Powers is not guilty."

"Thank you, Mr. Antonovich. I have nothing further."

Declan tried to give me an "atta girl" look of encouragement. But as I stood up and walked to the lectern, I saw the jury sit back in their chairs-a clear sign they'd made up their minds. It was over. But I didn't care. As long as they were still sitting in that jury box, I intended to keep on fighting, no matter how lost the cause.

"Mr. Antonovich, how many times would you say you've spoken to me since this case first broke?"

"Several. I don't remember."

"Yet you never told me or the lead investigator on this case, Bailey Keller, anything about your trouble with the union in Las Vegas, did you?"

Russell leaned forward and fixed me with an angry look. "Because you never asked. You focused on Ian Powers right from the start. I tried to tell you he couldn't have done it. But you didn't care about the truth. You just had to have someone go down for this-it didn't matter who."

I could tell he'd been waiting to unload that one on me for some time. But I was ready for it.

"You honestly believed that I wouldn't look into the possibility of another suspect?"

Russell set his jaw. "Yes."

"So let me get this straight: You were willing to let your best friend stand trial for the murders of your daughter and Brian Maher rather than give the police even one shot at exonerating him by investigating your theory?"

A few jurors looked mildly interested, and Russell shifted uncomfortably in the witness chair, but he remained resolute. "Yes. I guess I didn't trust them to really follow through."

That was a lame answer. Either this was a weak spot Terry couldn't cover or a blind spot she'd forgotten to cover. I went after it.

"And so you never even tried. You, as his best friend, didn't do everything possible to see your friend exonerated? Because you didn't think the police would do a good enough job?"

"How do I know you wouldn't try to scare off the witnesses?"

"Who would I scare off, Mr. Antonovich? The union workers? They didn't look like the type to get scared off to me."

Russell became even more truculent. "But you might've gotten to Angela. I don't know. And maybe the person who really did this got to Jack Averly. Maybe that's why Averly never showed up in court. Someone knew Averly was going to clear Ian and he wasn't going to let that happen."

This particular defense spin had swirled around a bit before the trial started, but Terry had never delivered on it. I noticed that the low buzz coming from the defense table had just picked up tempo. Either Russell's last answer had been programmed and they were pleased, or he'd gone off script. Whatever the reason, it meant they were distracted. I launched my final salvo.

"So now we have yet another conspiracy? One to silence Jack Averly?"

"Yes."

"Because Averly was going to exonerate Ian Powers?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Averly, the guy who drove Ian Powers to Boney Mountain, who wound up in New York with your daughter's iPad, who bought a plane ticket in Brian's name to frame Brian for Hayley's murder, this was the guy who was going to prove that Ian Powers-"

Terry jumped to her feet and shouted, to drown out the rest of my question. "Objection! Argumentative!"

"Your Honor, this is cross-"

"And it's argumentative," the judge said with a disapproving glare. "Move on, Ms. Knight."

But a sidelong glance at the jury showed me there was no point. Three were leaning back, arms folded, two looked irritated, and the rest were simply stone-faced. I knew I was violating the cardinal rule that you never spar with a victim, but I had no choice. I had to take the risk. Now, I could see that my gamble hadn't paid off. I'd lost. "Nothing further, Your Honor. But I ask that Mr. Antonovich remain on call." If by some chance those threatening letters turned out to be bogus, I'd put him back up there and shove them down his throat.

"Your next witness, Ms. Fisk?"

Terry stood, and I heard the note of triumph in her voice. "None, Your Honor. The defense rests."

79.