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“I passed Scott’s car. When he saw me, he put his hand out the window to fist bump me. I fist bumped him back. Once I crossed the road to my house, I turned and saw him get out of his car. I should have gone back and stopped him,” said Harris. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything. Although I’m not sure it would have helped. Scott always gets what he wants. That night he wanted Kelly.”
When Alkins was done with his witness, Harris scrambled to his feet, his relief visible. He seemed about to bolt from the witness stand when the judge leaned forward to his microphone.
“It’s just a wild guess here, Mr. Wilson, but I’m thinking there’s a chance Mr. Quinn might have a few questions for you.”
“What did you and Kelly do for so long? Were you stargazing?” Quinn asked, his tone friendly, his right hand casually tucked inside his front pant pocket. Rachel could tell this was a precursor to a brutal cross-examination. She’d spoken with Harris on the phone. Talked to his dad, too. He was a good enough kid but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Rachel almost felt bad for him. He wouldn’t know what had hit him once Quinn really got into his stride.
“We talked. And drank,” said Harris. “I had a flask and we shared it.”
“What was in the flask?”
“It was bourbon.”
“Where did you get that bourbon from? You’re too young to buy it legally.”
“It was my dad’s bourbon.”
“When I was your age, if I asked my daddy for bourbon he would have said, ‘No chance.’ What did your dad say when you asked him for liquor?”
“Nothing,” Harris muttered.
“Is it possible that you didn’t ask your dad?” Quinn asked. “Did you perhaps take the bourbon without your father’s permission? Did you steal the bourbon, Mr. Wilson?”
“I guess I did,” he admitted.
“Mr. Wilson, I notice that you’re flushed. Are you hot? Should we ask for the air conditioner to be turned up? Or tissues to wipe the perspiration off your forehead?” Quinn asked, with barely concealed sarcasm.
“Your Honor, Mr. Quinn is badgering the witness.” Alkins’s voice thundered across the court.
“I am merely being solicitous,” said Quinn.
“Move it along,” snapped Judge Shaw.
Quinn did just that, asking Harris about why he’d changed his testimony since he’d first spoken with police on the day Kelly disappeared.
“Isn’t it true that you told the detective who came to your house in the hours after Kelly disappeared that you thought Kelly had walked home from the playground that night?”
“Yes.”
“Did you lie to the detective that morning? Or are you lying here in court today?” Quinn asked.
Harris stuttered, lost for words. Quinn went through each and every one of Harris’s lies when he was first questioned by Detective Cooper about Kelly’s disappearance. Harris’s credibility was in shreds by the time that Quinn was done.
“One last question, Mr. Wilson.” Quinn swiveled around dramatically, as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “Have you received anything for your testimony today?”
“Uh, what do you mean?” Harris mumbled.
“Isn’t it true that you agreed to testify today in return for pleading guilty to a lesser charge, a charge that comes with a more lenient sentence?”
Harris stuttered, “Y-y-yes,” into his microphone.
“And how much time will you be spending in jail on that lesser charge?”
“Uhm,” said Harris. “I don’t think I’ll be going to jail.”
“To clarify, in return for your testimony today, you’ve been given a get-out-of-jail-free card. Is that correct?”
Alkins stormed to his feet.
