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“Correct.”

“And isn’t it true that the semen taken from her cervix could have been there for days?”

“It could have.”

“Because spermatozoa can be found in the cervix for up to two weeks after intercourse, isn’t that true?”

“Yes.”

I wanted to check out the jury, see if they were surprised to hear that sperm could last for two weeks. But I was on a roll. “Mr. McNabb, to your knowledge, was the deceased tested for condom lubricants?”

“No.”

“So no one performed condom trace analysis?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

That’s when I glanced at the jury. Well, shit. Three of them were confused. Time to quit dancing around and get to the point. “Mr. McNabb, if the man who strangled, raped, and killed Aurora Gates was wearing a condom when he assaulted her, you would not have evidence of his DNA in the cervix, isn’t that true?”

Gordon-James stood up, looking disgruntled. “Objection. Speculation.”

I raised my hands, palms up: Not hiding anything, not me. “I’m just asking if it’s scientifically possible, Judge. The prosecution says this witness is an expert.”

“Overruled.”

I swung back to face McNabb. “Isn’t that possible? If the assailant wore a rubber, you wouldn’t have his DNA in the cervix.”

He gave a stiff nod. “True.”

“So it’s possible, isn’t it, that Daniel Caro had unprotected sex with the victim, and then days, or even weeks, afterward, she could have been raped and killed by an unknown person who wore a condom during the sexual assault. And because of the condom, you wouldn’t find the killer’s DNA when you did the rape-kit swabs. Correct?”

Gordon-James pounded the counsel table with his fist. “This is improper cross-examination, Your Honor, without a doubt. Calls for speculation!”

“I’m asking a hypothetical!” I protested.

It was a close call.

Judge Walker’s cheeks puffed out before he released a thoughtful breath. “I’ll allow it. You may answer, Mr. McNabb.”

Walker was doing me a favor, and I knew it. The expert might have known it too. But he made us wait. Finally, grudgingly, he answered my question. “It’s possible.”

CHAPTER 17

AFTER THE DNA expert was excused, Gordon-James said, “The State calls Brandy Mitchell to the witness stand.”

Mitchell stepped forward, dressed in faded jeans and a GOLDEN NUGGET BILOXI T-shirt, unruly hair streaked with hot-pink highlights. The young woman didn’t cut an impressive figure, but her testimony was crucial for the prosecution. She’d claimed that during her shift as an Uber driver, she saw Aurora Gates’s car parked near Popp’s Ferry Bridge the night before her body was found floating in the water.

Keeping in mind Jenny’s hunch from yesterday when she’d seen Mitchell at the bar, I watched her intently. Testifying from the witness chair, Mitchell conveyed a sense of self-importance, showing a marked willingness to play amateur sleuth. When she identified Aurora Gates’s car from a photo the DA provided, she volunteered that the car was distinctive because it had a crumpled bumper.

Mitchell went on, “There was only one person in the car that I could see. It was a man. He was sitting in the driver’s seat.”

“Can you describe him for the jury?” Gordon-James said.

“A white male around forty years old. He wore dark clothes, had dark hair that was combed back.”

Six jurors glanced at our counsel table. The description wasn’t specific, but it arguably matched Caro. He wore his medium-length hair slicked back, like a vain imitation of Brad Pitt.

But the worst was yet to come. I tensed up, waiting for it.

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