Like a miniature tornado, Elena whisked toward him, a light blue legal folder in her hands. “Mr. Simmons, according to your deposition, you got off work at six-thirty on the evening of December twelfth. Is that correct?”
“It wasn’t really work. I was voluntee—”
“And what time did you get home?” She cut him short while she scanned the document.
“I got back to my room at—”
“When you say room, are you referring to a dorm room?”
Good question. The jury needed to know David Simmons was wealthy and used to getting his own way, in spite of his reference to volunteer work.
“No ma’am. I share a house with Greg Johnson.”
“Do you own this house?”
He shook his head. “No, my parents do.”
Grace stole a quick look at Simmons’ parents. His mother was reportedly a doctor and his father worked for the State Department in some sort of advisory capacity.
“Does Mr. Johnson pay for his housing?”
“Objection.” Andy rose to his feet. “I fail to see how my client’s roommate situation has anything to do with the case.”
Elena stood her ground. “Your Honor, I’m trying to show that the defendant has the means to buy friends.” She glared at Andy. “And possibly their testimonies.”
Andy ignored her. “Prejudicial, Your Honor.”
Judge Clark didn’t answer for a moment. “Ms. Delgado, you need to watch it. Defense objection overruled. I’ll allow this line of questioning to continue. At least for the moment.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Elena looked back at David Simmons. “Does your roommate pay for his room and board?”
“No.” For a brief moment, David’s expression changed ever so slightly, but he quickly brought it under control.
Elena studied the file. “According to the police report, you and Mr. Evans were downtown near the old train depot around eleven-thirty that evening. Is that correct?”
His eyes flashed fire for a moment. “It is.”
Simmons was clearly not accustomed to being questioned. Grace considered this aspect of his personality.
The prosecutor trained her gaze on Simmons, a lioness poised for the kill. “Mr. Simmons, if what you say is true—if Scott Evans is the one who should be held responsible for the death of Michael Bedford—please explain why you’d put yourself in the position of taking responsibility for this crime.”
Her tactics to wear him down were working. He fidgeted, a caged animal searching for escape. “Like I said earlier, Scotty had been drinking, and he’d had too much. We didn’t know Michael was gonna die. I didn’t want Scotty to get in trouble, so when the cops got there I told them I was the one driving.”
Elena laughed out loud, a haughty snort followed by a derisive look. “Interesting story, but for now I’ll go with it. When exactly did you realize Michael Bedford was dead?”
“I don’t know.”
She slammed her hand against the lectern. “You’re under oath, Mr. Simmons? Didn’t you intentionally run him over?”
“Objection!” Andy’s eyes shot fire as he hopped to his feet. His chair slid across the floor and crashed into the railing.
“Sustained. This is the last warning you’ll receive, Ms. Delgado. You’re getting mighty close to contempt.”
Elena pursed her lips in an apparent effort to bring her emotions under control. Her gaze rested on the research Grace had given her earlier.
Her eyes widened. Surely Elena wouldn’t use it until she’d given the defense time to prepare.
The petite attorney moved to the table and picked up the research. “Mr. Simmons, would you please explain a similar incident you were involved in during high school?”
A smattering of voices tittered across the courtroom as David Simmons paled and Andy catapulted to his feet. “Your Honor, this is new evidence and information I wasn’t made privy to. But since Ms. Delgado brought it up, I hereby request a mistrial based on irreparable prejudice to the defendant and his case.”
Grace’s heart jumped to her throat. No, this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t end this way. Not until someone was held accountable for Michael Bedford’s death.
Judge Clark nodded, clearly frustrated at the turn of events. “Counsel for both parties, approach the bench.”
All eyes focused on the judge and the attorneys, though their words were inaudible. A few minutes later, Elena and Andy made their way back to their respective places. The judge faced the jury. “Due to substantial and irreparable prejudice to the defendant, David Simmons, I hereby declare a mistrial sua sponte. The rule of jeopardy will attach, so this case may not be retried. Case dismissed.” He pounded the stand with his gavel for a final time and strode from the room.
Bile rose in Grace’s throat. Justice had been defeated, first in Mama’s case and now this one. If David Simmons was guilty, he’d just gotten away with murder.
Within a minute of dismissal Harry Bridges, the DA, approached the table, his eyes honed in on Elena. “My office on Monday morning.” He pivoted on one foot and stormed out of the courtroom.
Elena paled, her mouth drawn up in a tight bow. She turned on Grace. “This is your fault. Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t pass on the information to the defense?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but picked up her things and left.
A cold sweat broke out on Grace’s scalp. Elena was the type to turn this around on her to protect her own neck. Still reeling from all that transpired, she made her way back to the office in a daze. Work proved impossible between thoughts of losing her job and fear Andy could be involved with the wrong people. Much later, her work finally complete, she glanced up from her computer to find the office empty and the sky dark.
Heart heavy, she gathered her belongings, donned her coat, and locked the office door, dreading the thing she needed to do. Each step toward the old pickup seemed to make her plan more tedious and costly.
As she approached the truck, bathed in a pool of light from a street lamp, a distinct voice sounded from nearby. A voice with a British accent. She moved to the shadow of a building and glanced toward the voice, struggling to see in the darkness.
Jason and Elena leaned against her boss’s shiny red sports car, oblivious to her presence and deep in conversation.
Numerous questions let loose inside, but one stood out from the rest. Why had Elena warned her away from the attorneys of Tyler, Dent, and Snodgrass when she had no intention of following her own admonition?
12
The alarm rang way too early, and Grace silenced it quickly. The last thing she needed at two a.m. was for Papa to awaken and ask what she was up to. She slipped from between the warmth of the bed covers, and tiptoed across the icy floor in her sock feet.
A few minutes later, dressed in a black sweat suit and tennis shoes with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she wiggled her fingers into black mittens. As quietly as possible, she made her way past Papa’s bedroom and out the back door. The freezing temps momentarily stole her breath as she began her jog into Miller’s Creek to Andy’s office, hoping with everything inside her that she wouldn’t find a thing.
While she’d rather drive the two miles’ distance, the noisy pickup motor would waken Papa for sure. She pushed the thought of the warm pickup cab from her mind and concentrated on her breathing.
Puffs of white arose from Grace’s mouth as she took one step after another, her thoughts once more on the Simmons trial. Questions roiled in her head, the same ones she’d wrestled with all night. Was it possible Elena had intentionally caused a mistrial? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t wrap her brain around it, and she chalked it up to fatigue.
Within a few minutes, the homes leading to the center of Miller’s Creek appeared, lawns white with frost. She arrived at Andy’s office, retrieved the key from her pocket, and inserted it into the lock, then glanced around furtively, her nerves on alert.
As she turned the knob, a hedge that separate
d Andy’s office from the house next door rustled. She froze in place, her mind racing, then slowly turned her head to peer into the darkness. Probably just a stray cat.
Making as little sound as possible, she inched her way inside. Though pitch black, she couldn’t risk turning on the lights. Instead she groped her way to Andy’s office, and pulled a small flashlight from her pocket.
Three hours later she closed the last file folder and leaned back in Andy’s leather chair. A headache built at the bridge of her nose. Had Elena intentionally sent her on a wild goose chase, or had Andy long since suspected he was under investigation and removed anything that would convict him?
Grace sighed and picked up the last file to return it to the cabinet. She’d just put it in place and closed the drawer when the exterior door squeaked open.
Her pulse thumped hard in her chest. She flicked off the flashlight and tiptoed to the bathroom attached to Andy’s office. Once in the cramped space, she pushed the light button on her watch. Only five-thirty. Who would be here this early, especially on a Saturday?
She released the button on her watch and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. A shadowy figure used the light of a smartphone to slip into the room. A drawer creaked, followed by the familiar sound of a file being wedged in a drawer. Then the unknown person left the room. A minute later the exterior door clicked.
Grace remained frozen in place for several minutes, her brain spinning. She moved cautiously from her hiding place, her mouth as a dry as dust and her breath coming in shallow spurts. It wouldn’t be long until dawn, but she had to see the new folder. Once more she flipped the flashlight switch and opened the drawer. An unlabeled file, inserted at an angle caught her attention. A frown plowed furrows across her forehead as she perused the contents—names and phone numbers of high-profile people, including the Governor and the Secretary of State. While the file alone wouldn’t be enough to implicate Andy, with the right accusations it could certainly damage his reputation.
What now? If she left the file, anyone could find it, but taking it felt wrong, too. In addition, if she mentioned it to anyone, she would implicate herself. A weighty breath fell from her lips. The only option to protect Andy was to take the file and give it to him later with an explanation. That should be as fun as sticking her head in a lion’s mouth.
Grace tucked the file close to her abdomen and zipped her jacket to hold it in place. As she moved into the parking lot, a light flashed from the wooded area behind Andy’s office. She ducked behind the air conditioning unit and peered in the direction of the flash, but nothing else caught her attention.
Much relieved, she moved from the shadows to begin the long trek home. With each pounding step, more guilt rained down on her. How could she have ever doubted Andy? And who was trying to set him up?
The sky lightened to deep purple, and then a pink streak appeared along the horizon. As she neared home, the cattle lowed from the pastures and birds chirped from the oak and mesquite trees. Maybe Papa would be out feeding the cows and none the wiser concerning her overnight jog. Unfortunately, she arrived just as he returned from feeding the cows. He slammed the pickup door and sauntered toward her, questions in his eyes. “You’re up early.”
“Yep. Trying to lose a little weight.” Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath.
His eyes held wariness. “On a Saturday morning? You usually sleep in.”
She fell into step beside him. “Normally I would, but I have a busy day planned. I have a date with Jason Dent tonight, and I told Matt I’d help with the equine therapy group this afternoon.”
Papa’s face hardened as he held the back door open for her. “You know how I feel about him.”
“If you got to know Matt, you might just change your mind.”
“Hmphf.” With his work boots clomping against the floor, he moved down the hall to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, his way of adding an exclamation point to his objection of Matt.
After breakfast and a shower, Grace donned her jeans and boots, fatigued, but eager with anticipation. A smile fluttered to her lips at the thought of helping the kids, something she’d done since the ministry started, when her schedule allowed. And the thought of spending the day with Matt held an appeal she couldn’t deny. His presence brought sanity to her crazy life.
An idea popped into her head. She glanced at the clock. If she hurried, there might be time to pull it off.
A few hours later, she shoved the vacuum cleaner back in the hall closet and hurried to her room to grab her things. Now that the weekly chores were done, she’d make a quick trip to the store to pick up what she needed.
Grace pulled up outside the Miller mansion an hour later and climbed from the old pickup, reveling in the gorgeous fall day. The ancient live oaks flanking the circular drive held out gnarled arms to embrace her.
“What’re you doing here so early?” Matt, his face lit with a smile, came around the corner of the house. His brown corduroy jacket highlighted the color of his eyes.
“Just following through on the BFF pact.”
He reached her in a few more steps, his head tilted to one side. “Oh, really?”
She gave a quick nod. “Feel up to a picnic? I picked up a grilled chicken at the grocery store.”
His eyes widened, drawing the corners of his mouth upward. “Of course. Wish I’d thought of it myself.”
“Well, there is a catch.”
“Oh, there is?”
“Yep. I wanna go riding. Do you think we have time to do both before the afternoon session?”
The smile on his face broadened. “Might have to be a short ride, but it can be done.”
A short while later they headed across the north pasture toward the creek on horseback. In the comfort of Matt’s company, Grace released her fears over recent developments and allowed herself to enjoy their time together. He told one corny joke after another, and by the time they reached the shady grove of oaks at the creek’s edge, her sides hurt from laughing.
Matt tethered the horses to a few saplings in a grassy spot, and then gathered wood for a small fire to chase the chill away. Grace unloaded the grocery sacks from the saddle bag, and before long they dined on rotisserie-roasted chicken, potato wedges, and sourdough rolls beside a crackling fire and a babbling creek.
After she gorged herself on the meal, Grace tossed chicken bones toward the creek and stretched out. “What I wouldn’t give to set up camp here and stay forever.”
Matt sent a questioning look. “Sounds like escapism to me.” A teasing grin landed on his face, and he winked. “But I’m game if you are.”
A laugh bubbled out. “I must admit I’m tempted. Especially after the week I’ve had.” She drew her knees to her chest and held them in place with her arms, gazing off in the distance.
“That bad, huh?”
She wrinkled her nose and nodded.
For a moment he didn’t speak, but finished off a chicken leg and followed it with potato wedges. He wiped his mouth on a bandana he pulled from his pocket. “Care to elaborate?”
“Let’s just say there’s a good chance I might lose my job.”
Concern etched his features. “Why?”
She filled him in and found a nearby stick to poke the fire, sparks spiraling skyward. “Please keep this confidential.”
“Of course.” He paused, the area around his eyes wrinkling. “Something else bothering you?”
Him and his sixth sense. Whoever coined the term ‘woman’s intuition’ had never met Matt Tyler. But how could she tell him about sneaking into his brother’s office in the middle of the night? She shook her head. “Nothing I care to talk about.”
His lips pooched bunched up, and he nodded. “Fair enough. But you know you can tell me anything, right?”
Her guilt intensified, and she lowered her head. “Maybe some other time.” She stood and stepped to her horse, petting the mare’s velvety nose before mounting.
Matt chuckled soft
ly from his perch near the fire. “Guess this means you’re ready to leave?”
“I’ll be back in a minute.” She pulled the reins to the right until the mare faced the open field, and then prodded her into a trot. No, that wasn’t enough today. She needed more. “Hyeah!” With a swift kick the mare bounded over the ground in a full gallop, the wind whistling in Grace’s ears. Combing out the snarls in her hair would take forever, but at the moment she didn’t care. As the horse pawed the ground beneath her, she relished the moment, inexpressible joy pouring over her worries until they evaporated.
When she returned to the picnic spot a half hour later, Matt had put out the fire and packed up the meal. He stood near his horse, cinching up the saddle bag and looked up as she neared, squinting against the noonday sun. “I was about to ask if you felt better, but I can see it in your face. Looks like it wouldn’t hurt you to do this a little more often.” He mounted and clicked his tongue to urge the speckled bay past her. “We’d best get back so we can get the kid’s ponies ready to go.”
Grace gave one last longing glance at their picnic place beside the gurgling creek before she turned her horse around and trotted after him.
They saddled the last pony just as the first vehicle pulled up. Matt hurried to the van and greeted the woman who emerged from behind the wheel. Together they moved to the passenger side, and Matt helped lower a young boy in a wheelchair. “Like to pop wheelies, Garrett?”
The boy’s face lit with a smile. “Yeah.”
Matt pushed down on the handles, raising the front wheels. Garrett squealed as they raced up the ramp into the stable. Within five minutes, the boy sat atop his mount, wonder in his eyes as he patted the paint horse. His mom held the reins while Matt spotted, and they moved around the arena.
A lump of emotion landed in Grace’s throat as she watched. Matt was perfect for this job. Just a big kid himself, his compassion and intuition resonated with child and parent in a way she hadn’t foreseen.
One by one, other volunteers, parents, and children arrived, and Matt handled it all with his customary easy-going nature. He assigned Grace to a young girl named Sadie who had no physical handicap. Though she didn’t seem afraid of the horse, she didn’t speak or smile no matter how much Grace tried to engage her. After several minutes of no verbal response, a thought lodged in her brain. She brought the horse to a stop. “Do you like to go fast, Sadie?”
The Way of Grace (Miller's Creek Novels) Page 14