Boston's Man-Eater

XLVII

Emily.

Cute looking Emily with the sickest tattoos and piercings that would make the average baby boomer cry.

I didn't know what the jury had been thinking, but in whatever it was, I hoped it'd be fair.

So now, I was at a point where I wasn't sure which side I was on.

It was like a tennis match. You can't keep your head looking at one side for too long, and you're bound to turn so much that an indecisive mind is inevitable.

She was incredibly diligent and steadfast, clearly seeking to prove her friend's innocence in the twisted fiasco.

"Do you solemnly state that the testimony you may give in the cause now pending before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," she replied in her New Yorker accent.

"Please state your name.

"Emily Herwick."

"You may be seated," the clerk curtly said.

"Please spell your name for the record," the transcriber said, and she did so, promptly with no means for child's play.

"Where were you on the night of September 30th?" Ryan questioned, and she raised her head up high.

"After work, which is at a local art gallery, I picked Madison up from her apartment to head over at a friend's party."

"And what happened with Madison there?"

"She was high—more than I was, so I let her wander out of the room because she had been hooking up with some guy. I obviously ended up looking for her but she had left, with her phone off."

"Did you ever see her again that night?"

"I did. I called again, but a man who has a convenience store several blocks away from where I was picked up. She was laying on the sidewalk."

"And what time was this?"

"I can only say that it was after midnight."

"Were you with her the entire time after this?"

"Yes, we went back to her place."

"And did she ever leave without your knowledge?"

"She passed out before we even got there—so I'd say no."

"The store owner is here, will he relay the same version of the story as you?"

"Definitely."

"And what was she wearing?"

"A red bandage dress with size 5 Versace stilettos."

"Could it have fitted the description of the serial killer?"

"Madison doesn't own a single pair of Manolo's, let alone a custom-made one."

"Thank you, I have no further questions," Ryan sat by his desk.

"Does the prosecution have any questions?" The judge asked with an arched eyebrow, and Benson stood up.

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Which kind of relationship did Madison bear with Damien Baker?"

"She was his apprentice."

"Would you say that she had a close relationship with him, or some or all of the victims?"

"I guess..." She trailed off, her previous zest evaporating.

"Was there anything personal behind it?"