“Viveka?” I hear from across the street, and I turn that way. I can barely make out my neighbor, Art Sneed, but I sure recognize his voice.
I raise my hand, perhaps in greeting or maybe to assure him all is good, but then an absolute draining of all my energy hits me at once and my knees start to give out.
“Jesus Christ,” Art mutters, and I hear the pounding of his feet as he runs toward me. He’s too late to catch me, but my driveway stops me when my knees slam into it. I can feel his hand on my jaw, lifting my face to inspect it. “Who the fuck did this?”
I’ve never heard Art cuss before. He’s a retired schoolteacher and has always seemed so mild mannered. I shake my head, but nothing comes out. Either I’m too tired to get the words out or there’s no need to waste the energy since I have no clue really what just happened.
“Yes, I’d like to report an assault,” I hear Art say and this confuses me. I blink through the wetness in my eyes, which I determine is both blood and tears, to see him talking into his phone. “And send an ambulance.”
“No ambulance,” I finally manage to say.
Art ignores me as he gives my address to the dispatcher.
Within minutes, there are two cop cars with lights flashing and an ambulance on our street. Neighbors have come out to be nosy and watch. One of the officers asks me questions while an EMT cleans the blood off my face to see better. Art goes inside and feeds the pups for me.
“Did you get a look at your attacker?” the cop asks.
“No,” I tell him as I search my memory. “It happened so fast.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No,” I say again… my voice sounding wooden and hollow.
“You’re going to need to go to the hospital,” the EMT interjects as he starts to place a bandage on my forehead. “This cut needs stitches.”
“Shit,” I mutter, realizing my night of practicing my arguments has just been ruined.
“Would you like me to call someone for you?” the cop offers kindly. I think he’s feeling the need to do something as we both know this will go down as an unsolved crime.
I shake my head. “I can do it. If you can make sure I have my purse, my phone is in there.”
The EMT helps me into the back of the ambulance. “Let’s get you on the stretcher.”
“I don’t need the stretcher,” I say.
“It’s protocol,” he says and points to the bed on wheels.
The officer reappears, and he hands up my purse and briefcase. Art’s face also pops up behind the cop, and he calls, “The pups are fine, Viveka. Do you need me to come with you?”
“I’ll call Frannie,” I assure Art, and he gives me a wave. I think this is the most excitement he’s had in a long time. “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime,” he says with a smile.
Yeah, I hope this is a one-time only occurrence.
Once the ambulance gets underway, the EMT pulls my phone from my purse and hands it to me. There’s nothing to do since he’s got a bandage on my cut, so I take a moment to call Frannie. She answers in a groggy voice, and I know I woke her up. It’s barely nine thirty, but she’s not a big night owl.
“What’s up?” she mumbles.
“So, I had a little accident. Hit my head and need some stitches. Think you can come to the hospital and hang with me?”
“What?” she shrieks, all signs of grogginess completely obliterated.
I don’t want to give her too many details. “Yeah… just a little accident. I’ll fill you in on the details there.”
It takes a few more minutes to get her off the phone as she demands the details right now. But finally, she assures me she’s walking out her door and will meet me in the emergency room.
The EMT takes my phone and slides it in my purse for me when I disconnect.
I close my eyes and try not to think of what happened to me. Those few seconds… not more than probably ten total… where I was absolutely terrified. I’ve never felt that before.
So out of control and helpless.
I think about Ford, too. It had crossed my mind a time or two to call him. In fact, he was the first person I had thought of, not Frannie, which tells me I want his comfort the most. But I immediately dismissed it.
I didn’t want to burden him the night before our big hearing.
More importantly, I didn’t want him to go apeshit and do something stupid.
Because while I know the cops will never find who did this, I think Ford would come to the same conclusion I have.
Drake Powell was behind this somehow. I don’t think it was him, but I think whoever attacked me did it at his direction.
Given the speed of the attack and the fact my purse wasn’t stolen, it was clearly personal.
Retaliatory most likely.
Yes, Ford would automatically think it was his client, and he’d do something stupid. There’s going to be no hiding this tomorrow, but at least we’ll be in court and he won’t be able to do anything.
Then it will all soon be over. We’ll argue the hearing. One of us will win. One of us will lose.
After, we can move on and be done with this case and the crazy that’s apparently started with it.
Then Ford and I can be together and see where this thing is going to go.
CHAPTER 23
Ford
I glance down at my watch.
Crane my neck over my shoulder to stare at the clock on the courtroom wall.
Down to my phone.
They all say the same thing. Five till ten.
And Viveka is still not in court.
This shouldn’t alarm me, but for some reason it does. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something feels off for me. I could probably chalk it up to pre-hearing jitters. Even after nineteen years of practicing law, I still get a little tingle in my nerves before I get up before a judge or jury. I think it’s even more prevalent today because I’m going up against Viveka, and I don’t want her to lose.
Of course, I have to put those feelings aside. Just for at least the next hour it will take us to argue the merits of the case in front of Judge Boyer. Then it will be over.
Then we will start.
The sound of the courtroom door opening has me spinning in my seat. I’m disappointed to see Drake Powell walking in. His eyes immediately go to the plaintiff’s counsel table where Viveka would sit before sliding over to me. He gives me a wink and a thumb’s-up sign. My smile back is lukewarm at best.
He struts up the aisle that separates the two sides of benches and sits in the front row directly behind me.
When I turn my wrist, my stomach churns as I see it’s one minute until ten and still no Viveka. I grab my phone, prepared to text her, when the door behind the judge’s bench opens and the bailiff steps through, followed by Judge Boyer.
“All rise,” the bailiff says, and I push out of my seat, buttoning my suit jacket as I do. Judge Boyer climbs the raised dais and prepares to sit down, but she notices that Viveka isn’t at her table. Her eyes cut to me with question, and I’m prepared to argue on Viveka’s sake for a small recess when the back courtroom door opens.
Viveka hurries in carrying her briefcase in one hand, her purse hanging over her shoulder. She looks fabulous in a charcoal-gray pantsuit with wide legs and matching heels. Her hair looks beautiful… pulled to one side for a braid to rest over the front of one shoulder, the top swept low across her forehead, just above her brows.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Viveka calls to the judge without looking at me. Her voice sounds frazzled, and her shoulders are a bit hunched.
“I haven’t sat down yet, Miss Jones,” Judge Boyer says back easily. “So technically, you’re not late.”
Judge Boyer has always been known for being fair and easy to deal with, but this is exactly one of the reasons I like working with her so much. She even goes out of her way to be nice to people, and that’s something the older judges could learn something about.
T
he judge sits, and I start to follow suit since I’m allowed to do so. I cut another look at Viveka, see her busy unpacking her briefcase, and—
What the fuck is that on her forehead?
I almost didn’t see it the way she had her braid pulled across, but the harder I stare, the more I can see she’s been cut and has had stitches. There’s also purple bruising she tried to hide with makeup but couldn’t quite conceal completely.
Without thought, I step away from my table and take the two steps to hers. I can feel Judge Boyer’s eyes on me, but I ignore her.
When I reach Viveka’s side, she refuses to look at me, now busy straightening the papers she pulled out. Turning slightly so Judge Boyer has my back, I ask her in the lowest possible voice I can manage. “What the hell happened?”
Viveka refuses to raise her head, and my skin grows tight. “It’s nothing.”
I’m not sure what makes me do it, but I crane my neck all the way around to look at my client sitting in the front row. His eyes are pinned on Viveka… on her face… and he’s smirking.
“Son of a bitch,” I hiss under my breath. When I turn back to Viveka, my eyes lock on hers. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Don’t,” she breathes out so I barely hear her, but the pleading in her eyes speaks volumes.
My gaze breaks free, traveling up to take a closer look at the cut. Dead center, not too far below her hairline. I have no clue exactly what happened, but I know Drake Powell had everything to do with it.
“Is there a problem?” the judge asks, and I slowly turn toward her.
“Your Honor.” My voice is solicitous and professional, which is amazing given I feel like I’m shaking with fury. “I need a moment to discuss an issue with opposing counsel.”
“Make it fast,” she says.
I nod at her before turning back to Viveka. Leaning close so she has no choice but to look me in the eye, I repeat, “What happened?”
She just stares at me.
“Tell me what happened, Viv, or I’m going to make a scene,” I warn. I put one hand down on her table and notice it’s shaking.
“Ford, please,” she says whisper soft. “You make a scene, and you’re going to out us. And this is my career on the line, too.”
Son of a fucking bitch.
I take in a deep breath, close my eyes, and let it out slowly. I try to will myself to calm down, but all I can see in my mind is that cut on Viv’s forehead. My eyes pop back open, because if I keep them closed, I’ll imagine the worst.
“Just tell me what happened, and I swear I won’t make a scene in here,” I tell her. “I have to know, or I’ll go crazy wondering.”
She keeps her face stoic, but I can see the understanding deep within her eyes. No surprise, but she tries to downplay it. “I didn’t see who it was. It happened in my driveway when I got out of my car. It was fast, and he slammed my head down onto my car just once before he took off running.”
Fire burns in my gut. Deep in that fiery pit of fury, I’m convinced Drake Powell is behind it. He’s too cowardly to do it himself, but I bet he set it up.
I know it.
But I have to make sure.
I hold Viv’s gaze a moment longer before straightening up and turning to the judge. “Your Honor, if I could indulge the court for just five more minutes. I need to have a word with my client to go over some new evidence I’ve just learned about. I promise I’ll be brief.”
Judge Boyer makes a shooing motion with her hand, then turns her attention back to her computer monitor.
I cut another short peek at Viv, and I can see her visibly tense up with worry. I try to give her an encouraging smile, but it comes off stiff and forced. I can’t reassure her because all I can think about is avenging her.
Turning to Drake, I make a jerking motion with my head to the courtroom doors at the back. A silent demand that we talk outside. I made Viv a promise, and I’m not going to do anything in open court.
Drake’s brows furrow in confusion, but he stands up from the bench. I march toward the doors, knowing he’s following. When I exit, I make an immediate right and enter the stairwell I’d taken just a few short weeks ago with Viv after our first hearing.
When Drake steps through the door, I turn to face him. He doesn’t even give me a chance to bait him into the truth because he gives it up all on his own. He starts laughing and throws a thumb in the direction from where we came. “Did you see her face? Can’t think of a nicer person for that to happen to.”
It’s not an all-out admission, but he takes way too much pleasure in it. A buzzing noise fills my ears, and my fingers curl inward. “She says she took a fall down the stairs,” I grit out.
Drake snorts. “That’s her story, huh? Clumsy, that one.”
Fuck this. I don’t need him to admit it.
I’m on him fast, taking every bit of violent aggression I normally burn out of my system on the rugby field and direct it right into his face with my fist. I catch him on the right cheekbone with a roundhouse and his head snaps to the left. He goes stumbling into the wall just before the stairs. I reach out and grab him by his collar so he doesn’t fall, which I wouldn’t mind seeing, and I swing him toward the opposite wall. He goes careening into it, using his palms to catch himself before his face slams into the cinderblock slab.
“You fucking did that to her,” I snarl. I grab him by the shoulders and spin him to face me. Drake’s hands come up instinctively to protect his head from further attack.
That’s fine.
It leaves his throat exposed and my hand goes to it, pushing him back and pinning him to the wall. I squeeze, and his eyes bug out of his head in fear. I lean in close. “Tell me… did you do that to her?”
Drake’s hands come to mine, and he tries to peel my fingers away. I release my grip slightly, so he can talk.
“Tell me the truth,” I hiss. “If you don’t, I’m going to beat you bloody.”
“It was just to scare her,” he blurts out with wide eyes. “The bitch is costing me money, so I had one of my boys rough her up just to scare her.”
I’m not even thinking. My free hand is pulling back and I let it fly, this time catching him dead center in his nose. He howls in pain and doubles over, his hand covering his face.
“Are you scared, Drake?” I ask softly as I bend over him.
He nods furiously as he pulls his hands back from his nose. No blood, which disappoints me.
“Now you know how she must have felt,” I spit as I grab him by his shirt and throw him back into the wall again.
The fucker starts crying like a baby, and I want to beat the shit out of him for that. Hiring someone to do his dirty work because he doesn’t have the balls for it and then crying when he takes a few punches.
I lean in, put my face right before his, and curl my hands tight into his shirt. I give him a little shake and say, “Get out of this courthouse. Go back to your office or home or wherever. I’ll call you after the judge makes her decision.”
Releasing my hold on Drake, I step back and run my hands through my hair. I take some deep breaths to calm down.
“What the fuck is this all about?” he asks, anger now tinging his voice as he gingerly pokes at his nose. “Why the fuck do you care?”
I give him an out-and-out lie without a single care in the world. “Because if the judge ever found out you did that, I’m guilty by association. I’m not about to fucking lose my license because of your games.”
“She has no clue—”
“Just shut the fuck up, Drake,” I growl and point to the door. “Now get out of here before I get the urge to beat some fucking manners into you.”
“We’ll see what Midge has to say about this,” he says, feeling much more emboldened now that I’m winding down.
“Go for it,” I taunt. “Run to Midge like a baby. Make your complaints known. I’ll take the ass chewing she’ll give me. Then I’m going to get in my car, come to your house, and kick your ass really good like you de
serve.”
“That’s… that’s… criminal,” he sputters.
“As is hiring someone to beat up a woman,” I snarl. “Don’t make this nastier than it already is, Drake.”
He opens his mouth as if to argue with me, but the stairwell door swings open and the bailiff sticks his head through. His eyes go to Drake, then to me, then snap back to Drake. It’s clear he took punches as his right cheek is red and swollen. It will be purple tonight, and his nose is swelling up, too.
“You all right?” he asks Drake hesitantly.
“He’s fine,” I answer for him, and then turn to Drake for confirmation.
Finally, he nods at the bailiff. “I’m good.”
Not buying it for a second, the bailiff stares at Drake for a moment before turning to me. “Judge Boyer would like to get started.”
He disappears back through the door, and I grab onto it before it can swing shut. I don’t look at Drake, but I tell him the words I think are important to my own set of ethical standards. “I’m going to go back in there and represent you diligently. We’ve got a good shot at winning, and I expect I’ll be calling you with good news after. But if I ever see your fucking face again, you’re not going to like what happens. And consider this my termination notice. Find another attorney for any other matters you have.”
♦
It’s a good thing Viveka was first up to give her arguments to the judge. Not only would it let me rebut whatever she said, but it also gave me more of a chance to calm down. I was still wired when I walked back into that courtroom.
I simply told the judge that my client wasn’t feeling well, but I was prepared to move forward.
So we did.
Viveka was a pure joy to watch. Passionate and eloquent. She did a superb job with her expert’s testimony on the stand, although I was able to rattle him a bit on cross examination.
My argument was easy as the weight of the evidence was in my favor. My expert’s findings were vastly different than Viveka’s. I don’t pretend to even figure out where the truth actually lies. I’m not a bird expert. My job is to put it before the court and let the judge figure it out.
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