LaBarge had not yet glanced in Brooke’s direction. He’d addressed himself solely to the judge. Now, though, he turned on her. Fiery vengeance blazed from his face.
“Brooke Chadwick is a forger, a fraud, and with her conniving ways she stole property that rightfully belongs to me. I implore the court to dismiss this case and return my rightful property immediately.”
“Pah!” It came out high-pitched and unbidden from Brooke’s lips. Everyone in the courtroom turned to look at her. She clapped a hand over her mouth. LaBarge was the one who brought the case. Now he was asking for an immediate dismissal? Maybe he wasn’t the whiz lawyer by contrast, after all.
The judge turned a critical eye toward Brooke. “Do you have something to say, Miss Chadwick?”
LaBarge turned in Brooke’s direction and out of sight of Judge Vandalay, leveled a haughty look at her. He thought he’d already won.
Brooke shook her head in reply to the judge, irritated with herself for not having more control. Where was her pageant poise? They’d trained her to be better under pressure.
“Is that all, Mr. LaBarge?” the judge asked. LaBarge nodded and sat down, smug.
“The court will hear the defense now.”
Defense. Oh, wait. That was Brooke.
White hot fear flashed through her. She had nothing— no speech prepared. She’d been sure Dane would come.
“Miss Chadwick?” The judge looked at her and then at the clock.
“Right.” Brooke scooted her chair back from the table— the loudest chair feet on wood floors in the history of chair scooting— and winced. She approached the bench, but then backed up, not sure how close to stand. “Your honor, I received word of the will the same day I heard Mr. Jarman’s name for the first time.”
She was going to botch this. Heat crept up her neck that had nothing to do with how hot this courtroom had gotten. Or was that a result of her nerves as well?
“Uh, I have information to refute everything Mr. LaBarge has said about me. It’s no secret to those who know me, or anybody in my whole town of Maddox, that there’s no possible way I’d be out bilking old people out of their treasures beginning four years ago.”
LaBarge mumbled through his too-red lips from his table. “Oh, your morals are too high, beauty queen?”
The judge silenced him. “Reserve your comments for your own time, Mr. LaBarge.”
That reprimand— did it prove something? Was Judge Vandalay actually the close personal friend of LaBarge that he claimed to be? Or had that been a smoke screen? An intimidation tactic?
This judge might be fair, after all.
Brooke pressed on with her statement.
“Your honor, I have records to prove it— and I have the same person to thank for A, both having the foresight to gather the records, and B, for helping me walk again after months in a wheelchair. I don’t know what I’d ever do without him.”
“Objection. Irrelevant.”
“You can’t object during opening statements.” Judge Vandalay heaved a sigh of impatience at LaBarge and said to Brooke, “Please keep your comments relevant to the case at hand, Miss Chadwick.”
“Oh, it’s relevant. Because I have all this evidence,” she pointed at the stack of files, traitorous emotion catching in her throat, “plus witnesses who will show my connection to Harvey Jarman and other things. But to be honest, I don’t really know how. This person I was talking about was going to be my lawyer.” Her eyes stung with tears. Stupid, ridiculous tears. She should be able to hold up better under pressure.
But after LaBarge’s lies— how could she stand here? What must everyone think of her?
The judge looked up from some paperwork. “So you don’t have representation?”
__________
Dane slid in through the back doors of the courtroom, his breath so labored he might have been kicked out for indecency. But nobody noticed him. Their attention was glued on Sarge LaBarge and the blatant lies he was telling about Brooke.
Everybody on her side of the room was shaking with barely contained rage. Everybody on LaBarge’s side looked glazed over and evil as he poured gasoline on her good name and hovered over it with a lit match.
The rest of the crowd looked like cats with a lovely canary to eat. Everyone loved a good pageant-queen-gone-wrong story, fallen from grace. Yeah, if Sarge LaBarge had been right about Brooke, these events would have been perfect for polishing her Rockwell credentials, like she was a bad apple and would fit right in.
Too bad she’d never need them, now that she’d chosen Crosby.
Still, this went too far. Calling her a forger, a robber, and a fraud who preyed on old people? He quivered with rage. The punch he delivered to Ames Crosby last summer would look like a love tap compared to the beating he’d whale on Sarge LaBarge if Dane ever encountered him in a dark alley.
LaBarge sat down so smug and satisfied with himself.
Oh, if I could buy him for what he’s worth and sell him for what he thinks he’s worth, I could quit my job and live off the interest for a million years.
There his love sat at the defense table alone. He’d arrived too late to register. She hadn’t hired anyone else.
Dane had abandoned her in her hour of need. The guilt of that might never get washed away.
They didn’t appear to be too far into the proceedings. His delay tactic had worked. He’d have to take Uncle Vincent some new mud-flaps for his car.
Maybe there was a way he could get Brooke’s attention, let her know he’d come at last. But then she stood up to give opening statements. Bully for Brooke! She owned the moment. She declared her intentions, won the sympathy of the judge, didn’t back down. Well done. She then mentioned Dane’s role, the one he’d failed to complete; guilt resurged, turning him sour. Until he heard what she said next.
“I don’t know what I’d ever do without him.”
All sound in the room muffled into silence, as Brooke’s statement echoed in his mind. She didn’t just couch it in past tense. It was present. And it implied a future.
The judge was talking again, directing a question at Brooke. Dane’s attention riveted.
“So, you don’t have representation?”
He jumped to his feet. “Yes, she does, Your Honor. If The Court will allow it.”
Brooke whirled around, her eyes catching his, and a relief washed over her as visible as the dawn.
“Always err on the side of allowing counsel to a party in a lawsuit. That’s my motto.” Judge Vandalay called him forward and had him sign in. In no time, he was seated beside Brooke at the table, having been granted a moment to confer.
“You’re here!” she whispered. “Are you all right? Quirt said you were downstairs, that you might be—”
“Everything’s fine. Taken care of. They exonerated me, and they might prosecute the prosecutor, from what I overheard through the slamming door behind me. I’ll tell you all of it later— after I send this lying son of a gun LaBarge back to where he came from.”
At this, Brooke broke out her pageant-winning grin, the kind that could get her a commercial deal selling, well, anything. Oh, she was gorgeous. He ached to embrace her, to kiss that mouth, to make her his own—
Judge Vandalay interrupted that train. “Mr. Rockwell. Are you ready to proceed?”
He was— for anything with Brooke beside him. In fact, he could’ve flapped his arms and flown to the moon if someone had asked him to.
__________
Brooke could not believe Dane had arrived. Just in time. Her breathing slowed, and her heart rate returned to only twice its normal speed.
He’d come! She’d nearly jumped into his arms and thrown herself at him.
Later. That would come later.
“A moment to confer?” Dane asked the judge. It was granted. He turned to Brooke, their foreheads nearly touching.
“Here’s what we have to do, okay?”
He had it all organized. She relaxed even more. He had this. She just had
to hang on and survive it— and pray that all the lies from LaBarge would shrivel to nothing. “We need first, character witnesses for you. Second, character witnesses against LaBarge. Third, proof that the addendum to the will is legitimate.”
Brooke heard all three tactics, and they were exactly like he’d outlined in his pile of manila files that he’d brought for her.
Point two meant he was calling Ames to the stand. Didn’t it? Her heart clenched. Something had shifted. Something big. And it moved her soul solidly, steadfastly, and everlastingly into Camp Dane Rockwell.
She was dying to ask him why, what had changed, but there was no time. So instead of dragging that in between them right now, she asked a question even more salient to their case. “But— I thought you said the handwriting expert had been compromised.”
“He had. And, frankly, we are totally sunk on that. But I’m holding out for a miracle.”
Her eyes blinked back tears. “You, Dane, are my miracle.”
Dane gave her a half-smile, and then he turned to the judge. “We’re ready to proceed, Your Honor.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Legal Proceedings
With opening statements complete, Dane had jumped right into the storm of the hearing, as it launched full bore. LaBarge, as plaintiff, had the right to present first, and boy howdy, was he bringing in the manure, load by load.
Dane sat, a barely contained hurricane of fury as LaBarge’s lies piled higher and higher. Each successive witness told the same litany of falsehoods: Brooke applied to be caregiver for their relatives, ingratiated herself with her beauty, and ultimately defrauded the ailing person while on their deathbed out of something of high dollar value. They recited names and dates, all of which began near the time of the accident that put Brooke out of commission.
Ridiculous. Dane didn’t even bother cross-examining them.
When LaBarge finally rested his case and it was Dane’s turn, right out of the gate he brought forward the medical records from Brooke’s accident, grateful that HIPAA laws allowed him to subpoena them for court.
“Your honor, I don’t know who the Brooke Chadwick is these witnesses have referred to, but my client, as she stated in opening remarks, was not physically capable of such things.”
Dane extended the stack of records to the judge. They provided incontrovertible evidence of Brooke’s innocence against the fairy tale LaBarge had spun.
But the proving that LaBarge had lied about Brooke wasn’t the same thing as proving he had bad character. Both of those were vital— especially if they had no handwriting expert to prove Jarman’s holographic addendum was real. As much as Dane hated himself for doing it, he was going to have to put another witness on the stand— the last man on God’s green earth he ever wanted to put any trust in.
Just not quite yet.
“Thank you. I’ll consider these.” The judge took the records and glanced at them, then took a more careful look for a longer time. “Yes, I see. Thank you.”
Dane turned to give LaBarge a smirk. “To further confirm this, I’ll call Brooke Chadwick to the stand.”
__________
Brooke nearly choked. Sure, she’d considered other people testifying on the witness stand. Dane had discussed them at length. But it hadn’t dawned on head or her heart that she would be one of them. Before today, she’d never set foot in a courthouse; if she never entered one again, it’d be too soon.
When had Dane added her to his list of witnesses? The distance between the defense table and the witness box stretched long.
“Miss Chadwick, come forward, please.” The bailiff administered the oath, and she sat down, a swarm of bees warring in her gut— not because of Dane’s examination, but because Olivia had taught her that any witness who got examined could also be cross-examined.
She might be subjected to Sarge LaBarge’s bad breath and worse intent.
“Tell the court, Miss Chadwick, why you didn’t do the things you’re accused of.”
“I couldn’t. I’d never.” Her very soul rankled when she considered the things LaBarge had accused her of. There weren’t words enough in the universe to explain all the reasons why she didn’t do any of them.
“I know that, but why didn’t you? Be specific.”
“Objection. Leading.” LaBarge was going to start in on her now, an intimidation tactic. She couldn’t let it get to her.
“Overruled.”
Brooke gathered herself. “I make as many mistakes as anybody, but four years ago I was in an accident that killed my parents and left me without the use of my legs for almost six months. I couldn’t have cared for patients then because I was one myself.”
Surprised crackled through the LaBarge witness area in the gallery.
“I’m pretty sure the paperwork my attorney handed you is the medical records from my time in intensive care, in recovery, and later in the rehabilitation center. It was a long time. Hospitals gave me good care, and after that I understood why I wanted to be a nurse. Maybe I could help someone like I’d been helped.”
“Objection. Irrelevant.”
“Overruled.”
Dane said, “That was when you began your medical studies. After the accident.”
“I had my CNA— certified nurse’s assistant— qualifications, but I got them in high school, before the accident. I’d planned to get my RN, but circumstances and funding didn’t permit, so I just went for an LPN instead. Er, licensed practical nurse.”
Dane nodded, giving Brooke a reassuring smile. This wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. She was just telling the truth. The truth was easy.
Dane turned to the judge. “I’ve also presented Miss Chadwick’s nursing school transcripts, and her employee records as a candy striper, a CNA, an LPN and now on the pediatric floor at Maddox General.” He turned to Sarge LaBarge now. “Her hours of work are there, verifiable. Clocked in. For the court to examine.”
LaBarge’s turn was next. Brooke couldn’t breathe. What lies would he tell, or twist her truths to make her tell? Truth was easy, lies were hard.
“Would you like to cross examine, Mr. LaBarge?” the judge asked. Her watch’s second hand ticked like thunder in her ears.
“I reserve my questions for later.”
Brooke expelled all her breath in what had to be a loud huff. He’d postponed. For now. With gushing relief, she returned to her seat. Maybe later would never come. Dane was good. Very good. He was built for this job.
Thank the heavens above he hadn’t been disbarred earlier today. Prayers were indeed answered.
Mrs. Twyla Tyler came to the stand next, telling her story about being Mr. Jarman’s actual caregiver, at least at lunchtime, and swearing to the fact that Brooke had never met him during his lifetime, as well as the connection between Brooke and Mr. Jarman via Oscar.
“I’m afraid the fact that Miss Chadwick was an excellent nurse who cared for our grandson so tenderly before he left this life is the reason we’re all here today.” It took a moment for Mrs. Tyler to gather her emotions. Every time she brought up Oscar things got raw.
Brooke got that. There were months, years, when she couldn’t deal with her parents’ loss. Same with Quirt. Only lately, in the last few days, he’d been less hostile. Having him sit behind her, backing her up at the defense table, was the closest she’d felt to him in ages.
Dane and Quirt weren’t at each other’s throats anymore, either. Dane had given the files to Quirt, trusting him today, and Quirt had nothing but good to say about his lifelong best friend.
Something good had come of this whole shenanigan, no matter the outcome.
With Twyla Tyler’s testimony, Brooke’s character was established for good. Step one in their plan, check.
But at what cost? Now Mrs. Tyler had to endure being questioned by LaBarge. Brooke felt terrible for putting her through something she herself hadn’t been forced to endure.
“Mrs. Tyler,” Sarge LaBarge began, his tone cruel. “Just how well did
you know Harvey Jarman. How well— in an intimate sense?”
“Objection, your honor.” Dane stood up. “Badgering.”
“Sustained.”
But LaBarge didn’t seem to think this was a defeat. He’d planted the seed of doubt he meant to sow with regard to Mrs. Tyler’s character.
“No more questions, your honor.”
Brooke expected Dane to let Mrs. Tyler go and sit down, but he didn’t. Apparently he had one more line of questioning if the judge let him redirect— and it came sideways at Brooke.
“Permission to redirect?” he asked the judge, and it was granted. Dane paced in front of the witness stand before speaking. “Mrs. Tyler. Before today, had you seen this man?” He pointed at LaBarge.
“Yes. Everyone has. We see his political billboards out my way. He has a distinct look anyone would recognize.”
“Okay. Had you seen him anywhere else, besides billboards or campaign material?”
She pulled a knowing look. “You mean at Harvey Jarman’s home. Yes. Just a few times, about three years ago.” Twyla Tyler had told them about a politician leaning on Jarman, convincing him to put the ball into his will. Leave it to Dane to realize this was actually ammunition for Brooke’s case.
“Tell the court what happened,” Dane prompted, and Mrs. Tyler repeated exactly what she’d said to Dane and Brooke that first meeting.
“Harvey Jarman told me about Faro LaBarge, and how he’d pressured Harvey into putting him in his will, right around the time his wife Mitzi got so sick and died. He was down and didn’t care about much for a while. That’s when he told me LaBarge manipulated him into making a new will— and naming LaBarge as recipient of the ball.”
“Objection!” Sarge LaBarge roared.
“On what grounds?” the judge asked. She waited while LaBarge steamed, and until he withdrew it. “Proceed, Mrs. Tyler. Please.”
Wills & Trust (Legally in Love Collection Book 3) Page 24