All Work, Let's Play, page 8
After the last character witness of the day is called, the judge looks at the prosecuting attorney. “Any more character witnesses for your side?”
“No, Your Honor,” he answers as he stands. “The prosecution would like to move on to evidence testimony.”
“Very well.” The judge shuffles some papers and looks at his watch. “Court will adjourn for the day. Tomorrow, we’ll reconvene for evidence testimony.” He bangs his gavel and we stand to leave.
Caleb says something quietly to Mr. Dunbar and we all walk out of the courtroom. When we slide into the back of our limo, Max looks at me. The first time he’s met my eyes in over a week. “He’s calling the ballistics expert tomorrow. Have you reviewed the reports?”
I nod. I received the reports two days prior and I’ve already reviewed them and compiled cases that are similar. Since it was just character testimony, I had the extra time to make sure everything was ready for him.
“Good. I think he’ll be tricky,” Max mutters.
“I agree,” Caleb says. “Prosecution has been trying to trip us up since this case started. I think he might have something up his sleeve with this one.”
I don’t know whether to agree or not, because I’m only familiar with what I read on paper. I trust they know what they’re talking about. I rest my head against the back of the seat. I feel a wave of tiredness wash over me. I’m sure tomorrow will be long and very emotional.
Max and Caleb keep up a steady stream of conversation concerning the case, but I tune them out. There’s nothing I can do now but wait to see what happens when the evidence-based testimony starts. Hopefully, my research will help clear Mr. Dunbar.
Chapter Nine
I’m so thankful for my research and hard work. The ballistics expert is on the stand, doing his best to paint the shooting as an execution. I’m not sure why, since the evidence-based witnesses are supposed to be impartial. But if I’m not mistaken, I see him send the prosecuting attorney a small smirk every now and then. The ballistics expert looks like him; short, brown-haired and weaselly. The type of person that wants to see as many people go down as possible, regardless of what he has to do to accomplish it. Too bad for him, he’s fucked with the best legal researcher on this side of the Mississippi River.
The prosecutor is pacing in front of the witness stand, hands in his pockets, eyes earnestly on the jury. “So, Mr. Barber, you’re saying that the trajectory of the bullets came from the victims being in a kneeling position?”
“Yes sir.” The weasel-faced man turns to the jury and says, “From the angle the bullets entered the body, they had to come from an angle that’s maybe forty-five degrees from the base of the weapon to the entry wound.”
“And that’s for Mr. Tyree or Mr. Michael?”
“Both,” he says, nodding back at the jury. “There’s an angle that suggests they were perhaps on their knees and were executed.”
I look over at Caleb, expecting him to object to the misleading way the statement is delivered, but he has his index and middle finger on his lips, a slight smirk playing on his lips. Max looks contemplatively at the jury and writes a note and passes it to Caleb. He looks down at it and his smirk turns into a smile as he nods. Max now has a smile too. Mr. Dunbar peeks at the note and he stifles a smile. I wonder what it says. Either way, the entire table looks relaxed, so I let the tension leave my body.
“No further questions, Your Honor.” The attorney walks purposefully to his table, looking as if he’s won a great victory.
Caleb stands and buttons his jacket. That calm power he exudes is back and my mouth goes dry. Seeing him in action is always a treat.
“Mr. Barber, it’s your testimony that Mr. Dunbar had to have both men on their knees in order for the trajectory of the bullets to have killed them, correct?”
“That’s correct.” He doesn’t give Caleb a ‘sir’ like he did his weasel twin.
“Are you sure? Remember, you are under oath.” The low threat works its way into Mr. Barber’s ear and he looks quickly at Mr. Wolfe, then back at Caleb.
“It’s what my report says.” He looks a bit nervous, face flushed and a fine sheen of sweat on his upper lip.
“Which one?” Caleb cocks his head to the side, getting the measure of him. Mr. Barber opens his mouth, then closes it. Opens it, then closes it. “You may answer now.” Caleb leans lazily against the jury box, their eyes on the ballistics expert.
“Well…the first one…it was…the one that’s in front of you…that’s ummm…the report that’s…valid.” He barely gets the words out. I laugh to myself, happy I’m such a thorough researcher. Two different ballistics reports were submitted and both were saved and available for public viewing. They almost look alike, except the first one has an alternative on how the shootings could have happened, namely that Michael could have been advancing towards Mr. Dunbar and Tyree could have squeezed the trigger when the weapon was under him. More plausible explanations than an execution.
“I’m going to say once more, Mr. Barber. You are under oath.” He doesn’t ask a question. Just stands at the jury box and stares.
“The first report is accurate,” Mr. Barber says with a sigh. “The angles are correct, but they could have been shot while in the commission of attacking Mr. Dunbar.”
Mr. Wolfe stands. “Objection, Your Honor.”
“On what grounds?” The judge asks, confused.
“Hearsay,” he answers lamely.
“Have a seat, Mr. Wolfe. Overruled.”
Caleb smiles slightly at the judge, then looks back at the witness. “So, to clarify. You’re not one hundred percent sure if these men were murdered in execution or self-defense?”
Mr. Barber takes another deep breath. “Ballistics shows that the bullets that hit Mr. Michael were from a slightly downward angle, but that could account for the height difference between him and the defendant. Mr. Tyree had gunshot residue on his hands and contact burns on his shirt. And the angle was upward, as if he were hunched over the weapon.”
Caleb nods and raps his knuckles on the jury box. “No further questions, Your Honor.” When he’s walking back to the table, he meets my eyes and gives me a wink. My breath catches in my chest and I look away. What the hell was that?
Max gives him a fist bump and Mr. Dunbar rubs his arm. The ballistics expert is sent away, with Mr. Wolfe giving him the evil eye.
The judge looks over at both tables and says, “We’ll break for the day. Your witness tomorrow, Mr. Wolfe. Court is adjourned.” He bangs his gavel and we stand as he files out.
Court officers escort Mr. Dunbar out and Caleb comes around to talk to Sandra and Tyler. "I know today was difficult, but we’re almost finished. You okay, little man?”
Tyler nods, hiding behind his mother slightly, but still holding my hand, something he’s done every day since we’ve been at trial. My heart goes out to him. He’s too young to be experiencing any of this.
“Good,” He looks at Sandra. “I already went over this with Marcel and he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. But I think it might be necessary. If we can’t get a bead on the jury after the medical examiner’s testimony, will Tyler be willing to testify? About his treatment in that house?”
Sandra’s face turns red and she pulls Tyler closer to her. “Absolutely not!” she hisses quietly. “I won’t have my baby up there, in front of all of these strangers, telling them about the worst time in his life.”
“That might be what it’ll take to get Marcel acquitted. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.” Caleb pleads with her, but I can tell by the look on her face that she’s not going to budge.
I step between them. We’re still in the middle of the aisle of the courtroom, our little party the only ones left. “Look, there’s a diner a mile or so away from here. Let’s grab a bite to eat and we can talk there.” Sandra and I have built up a bit of a rapport, since I spend so much time sitting with her and Tyler. She looks at me and searches my eyes. After a minute, she nods and walks Tyler from the room.
Caleb looks at me with a questioning look. “Let me take care of it,” I tell him. “I think I might convince her. But be sure this is the right thing. Are you?”
He looks me directly in the eyes and dips his chin. I take his word and we head out, getting to the diner right after Sandra and Tyler. I look at Max and Caleb and tell them to let me talk to them alone. “You two can sit at the table behind us but let me do the talking. Please.”
They must trust me, at least a bit, because they agree without needing any convincing. We enter the diner and see Tyler and Sandra sitting in the booth in the far back, facing away from the door.
I slide into the booth opposite them and Max and Caleb sit in the booth behind ours, facing the door. I wring my hands, not knowing where to start. I know what’s on the line. We might not need testimony from him, but if we do, I want him to be ready. And I want him to know he’s not alone.
“Sandra, why won’t you let him testify?” I start there, so I can set the groundwork for how to go forward. I won’t lay my skeletons bare unless absolutely necessary.
She shakes her head and pulls Tyler into her side. “It’ll be traumatic. He’s already told a therapist.” She looks down at him with sad eyes. “He thinks all of this is his fault. I can’t put him through that again.”
I look at Tyler and he’s fighting back tears, but he meets my eyes. “Is that what you think?”
He nods and a single tear falls. “If I didn’t tell that lady, Dad wouldn’t know what happened. And he would be home.”
My heart breaks for him. He’s only eight and already has the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You shouldn’t look at it that way, Tyler,” I tell him gently. “Your Dad was trying to protect you and the other kids, not hurt anyone. He wanted what was best for you. He tried to do what any good father would do. What I wished someone had done for me.”
Sandra sits up straighter and looks at me with sad eyes and Tyler looks confused. “You were a foster kid, too?” Such a smart kid to put that together.
“Yeah, I wasn’t adopted until I was fifteen. But before that, I was with this family. And the father…” I lick my lips, finding it hard to talk about. The only person I ever told was Candice, and that was because she could relate. Tyler can too, so I don’t mind sharing with him, but Sandra, Max, and Caleb will all hear and know. “He beat me. Often. For anything. Especially when he was drunk. Some nights, it would get so bad that I couldn’t sleep because I was in so much pain. I went through it for six months before I was placed elsewhere. I told everyone what he did, but no one believed me.” I take a deep breath and continue. “You have a great father. When he found out, he believed you. He went to confront those men, but that’s it. Everything after that was a mistake. Don’t ever think it was your fault, hear me?” He nods and more tears leak from his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Sandra whispers, wiping her eyes quickly. I give her a small smile, not really wanting her sympathy, but not wanting to dismiss it outright.
“Tyler, this is important. If Mr. Caleb needs you, will you be able to tell those people what happened to you? If it makes you feel better, you can look at me the whole time and tell me. I know it’ll be hard. But I’m here for you. Your Mom and Dad are here for you. We just want other people to know your story, what you went through so they can see your Dad was only trying to protect you.”
He looks at Sandra and she nods her head, wiping under his eyes. “I can do it, Mr. Gage. For you and my Dad, I can do it.”
I hold out my arms and he comes to the side of the table and gives me a tight hug. “It’s okay now,” he whispers to me. “We’re with good people now.” And I can’t help the tear that drops from my eye. This little boy is so strong and fearless and, above all else, an optimist. I’m so glad that home didn’t steal his joy.
“Yeah,” I say in a small voice I don’t recognize. “We’re with good people now.”
As soon as we get into the mansion, I beeline to the bar. Telling Tyler what happened to me has brought up old feelings, making me feel like that small child again. I can’t stop the feeling of hopelessness and pain I experienced in those six months. I tried to tamp it down, but the feeling is crawling up my spine, giving me a headache and making my shoulder tense with stress.
I skip the fancy whiskey and pour a double shot of Jack. I toss it back, pour another and toss that back. I thought I was better adjusted than this. Sometimes the feelings would try to overwhelm me, but I would be able to get them under control and shove them to the back of my mind. Seeing Tyler’s little face, the tears he shed when he found out what happened to me cut deep. Even deeper because he went through it and worse. His tears were probably more to do with knowing he wasn’t alone and that hurt even worse. I’d rather he’d not gone through any of that at all.
On that thought, I pour another double shot and like last time, Max stops me from drinking. This time though, I let him take the glass. I know it’s a bad idea to get drunk, knowing we have court in the morning, but I’m feeling raw right now and alcohol will help numb my pain.
He leads me to the couch where Caleb is already sitting and he sits on the one across from us. They both turn to look at me and I drop my head in my hands. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t drink right now. It won’t happen again.”
Caleb waves me away. “That’s not what we’re worried about. Are you okay?” he questions sincerely. “That couldn’t have been easy to share. It was hard to hear.”
I look at Caleb. He doesn’t have a look of sympathy in his eyes, which is the only reason I don’t bolt from the room. I glance at Max and he actually looks…pissed. Like he’s angry at me for drinking?
“I won’t drink anymore, Max, don’t worry. No need to be upset with me.”
He scoffs. “I’m not upset about you drinking. Why didn’t we know what you went through? Why am I just finding this out now?”
I tilt my head to look at him. “Why would you know? You don’t like me enough to ask and you’ve never tried to get to know me. I didn’t tell Joyce because…look, everyone always leaves me. I know that. I didn’t want her to feel obligated to stay when she found out about my abuse and abandonment issues. And I was right. She left. Like everyone eventually does.” The alcohol is loosening my tongue a little too much. He asked a question on one topic and I went off on a tangent. “Forget I said that. That has nothing to do with anything. I don’t tell anyone about my past. It’s not who I am anymore. I’m moving past it.”
“How?” Caleb asks quietly. “Are you in therapy?”
I shake my head and look down, ashamed. I’ve been telling myself I should get into therapy, to help me work through my childhood issues. Candice says it’s hard at first, but she’s been able to work her way through her trauma and is a lot better than she was when we were kids.
Caleb puts a hand on my knee. “You should go. I’ve been going for years and it helps. It doesn’t cure everything, but it does help. Would you like me to set up an appointment for you?”
I almost want to cry. This man, who didn’t really like me a few weeks ago is worried about my mental health, trying to make it easier for me. I’m more grateful than he’d ever know. “I can take care of it. Thanks though.”
Max clears his throat. “I never hated you, Gage.” He takes a deep breath and stands up. He looks like he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say next, going by the way his shoulders are tensed and how tight his jaw is. “I’m sorry if you felt that way, although I can see why you did. But, honestly, I’m afraid of you.”
My face is the picture of confusion as I look up at him from my seat on the couch. “Afraid of me, why?” My words are slightly slurred and I run my hand over my face. Hopefully, he made out what I asked.
“You made me question myself. That’s scary.” I still have a bewildered look on my face, so he continues. “When I saw you the first time, I thought I’d never seen a man as beautiful as you. Then I started to question why I thought that. I’ve never thought that about a man in my life. That made me realize I’m not as straight as I thought and that pissed me off. That made me resentful that you made me unsure of who I was just by your presence. And I realized I couldn’t have you because you’re straight and with my sister of all people. So I tried to keep you away from me by being a dick to you.” It was after he finished speaking that he seemed to remember Caleb was in the room as well. He looks like he wants to say something, but without another word, he walks away, probably to go to his room.
I sit, open-mouthed, gazing after him. What the fuck was that about? Caleb has the same expression as me, looking shocked by Max’s hurried admission. His gaze drifts over to mine and he raises his eyebrows before he stands. He takes one final look at me and smirks before he follows Max out of the room. I swear, I’m always left on this couch, drunk and confused.
Chapter Ten
The next morning isn’t as bad as the last time I drank. I don’t wake with a hangover, but my stomach is in knots. I spent the rest of my drunken night trying to figure out what Max meant. I mean, I know what he said, but where did it come from? I never got the vibe that Max liked men. Hell, I didn’t think Max liked people, men or women. He just seems so…angry all the time. I thought back to the day we met. He did stare at me a lot and when he shook my hand, he jerked it back quickly. I didn’t pay it any attention at the time, figuring that he was playing the big man because his sister had a man over and he wanted to scare me. Now, I’m not so sure. He’d never gotten particularly close to me, always with a few people between us. We were never in a room alone together, and if we were, he found an excuse to leave quickly.
None of this helped. I don’t know how I missed it, but I was also focused and devoted to Joyce. There would be no reason to notice Max or anyone else for that matter.
By the time I’m dressed, I resolve to talk to Max about it after the trial. There is no need to try to bring anything up now. He has to focus on his work. There’s plenty of time after to ask. And after, he can’t try to use the case as an excuse.
