I breathed deeply. “It’s all up to Krissy. You picked the exact wrong night to beat her up.”
Pucci rubbed the scratches down his neck. “She picked the night.”
What an ass. I bit my tongue and called Krissy to the stand. The officer at the rear of the courtroom let her in, and she strode up the aisle wearing a pretty white sundress and strappy sandals. Her dark hair was around her shoulders, and her eyes were clear. The makeup job was phenomenal.
I could see bruises because I knew they were there. Otherwise, I don’t think I would’ve noticed and would’ve thought the angles on her face were from shadows and light and not makeup. “You owe her better after this,” I muttered.
Pucci just stared at her.
“Look loving,” I hissed under my breath.
His gaze softened.
At the moment, I disliked myself more than I hated him. I stood and ran Krissy through the initial questions of her name, occupation, and relationship to the defendant.
“So, tell us what happened on the night in question,” I said.
Krissy plucked at her skirt. “We were drinking at Dunphey’s, and this guy grabbed my butt really hard. It, um, it freaked me out, and I, um, I told Rich.” She looked toward him and then seemed to relax.
I kept my smile in place. “I know it’s nerve-wracking to give testimony in any case. You’re doing great.” I needed the jury to know she was nervous and not lying.
She clasped her hands together. “Okay.” Her small laugh was nervous but authentic.
“What happened after you told Rich that you’d been assaulted?” I asked.
She exhaled. “Rich went to confront the guy, and they started pushing each other around, and we all ended up outside. The guy hit Rich and Rich hit him back. Then we left.” She settled back and looked like she relaxed.
“Good.” I ran her through more questions to make sure her testimony was solid and then I tendered the witness. The jury was looking at her with sympathy, and so long as she stayed solid through cross-examination, we had a good chance of winning this thing.
Alice stood and scrutinized Krissy’s face before questioning her. “I’d like to clarify a few things. Where were you when Mr. Dorsey, also known as ‘the blond guy,’, allegedly touch your butt?”
“In the bar,” Krissy said. She cleared her throat and met Alice’s gaze head on.
“Where in the bar?” Alice asked.
Krissy bit the inside of her cheek as if thinking. “Over by the pool tables and the bathrooms.”
Alice paused. “Your sister said you were by the dart boards.”
Krissy faltered. “The pool tables and the dart boards are in the same area.”
Well, kind of. I’d spent my share of time in that bar, and I wouldn’t say same area. But it was close enough.
Alice frowned as if she didn’t agree. “All right. Let’s move on from that for now. Where was your sister?”
“Um, over by the dartboards.” Krissy blushed.
Alice’s smile was a warning. “Guess I told you that one, huh? How often does your boyfriend keep a gun on his person?”
Krissy paled. “Never. He can’t have a gun.”
Nice reminder that Pucci was a felon who couldn’t have a gun.
Krissy realized it quickly. “He’s a good guy who’s made mistakes. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying.” She rubbed her face. “We all are. It’s hard.”
Alice walked closer to her. “Ms. Walker? Are those bruises on your face?”
Fuck, fuck, and double fuck.
