The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(61)

“You promise that was it?” Rick asked.

“I promise.”

“You paid her to work for me?”

Tom crossed his arms. “I did. I felt bad she’d lost her job when I was let go. And... I thought you could use some help.”

“I told you not to interfere,” Rick said.

“I know,” Tom said. “But you needed help.” He paused. “She helped you, didn’t she?”

Now it was Rick who stood, not answering the question.

“Didn’t she?” Tom pressed.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rick finally said, stepping behind the couch and gazing out the glass sliding doors to the deck. Sunlight poured through the panes, casting Rick’s entire body in an orange glow. “She confessed her arrangement with you, and I said some things that made her quit. My temper...” Rick’s voice drifted off, and Tom could see the regret in the boy’s eyes. Did something else happen with Dawn? He thought about asking him, but then held his tongue.

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter,” Rick repeated, sighing and turning to face Tom. “The only thing that matters now is that the biggest case of my life is three days away and I don’t have a clue what to do.”

Tom was jolted by the desperation in Rick’s voice and body language. He is scared to death, Tom thought, walking over to the rocker and plopping down in it. He gestured at the couch, and Rick took a seat.

“OK,” Tom said, crossing his legs and narrowing his gaze. “Tell me about it.”



For the next hour, Rick told the Professor everything.

“I’m just not sure what to do,” Rick said, wrapping things up. “But one thing I know, Ruth Ann won’t settle for any amount of money. She wants Willistone called on the carpet for everything they’ve done.” Rick sighed. “The problem is that, with Mule dead, the only way to expose Willistone is to put Wilma Newton on the stand. I mean, come on. The trucker’s wife sticking it to the trucking company. But–”

“You’re worried because you don’t have any sworn testimony from her,” Tom interrupted, rubbing his chin.

“Right. And Willistone’s lawyer hasn’t deposed her either, and we disclosed her as a witness months ago. It doesn’t make sense that they wouldn’t depose her unless–”

“–they’ve talked to her and aren’t worried.” Tom again finished Rick’s thought. “Course, that might not be it. Willistone is probably being defended under a policy of insurance, and insurance companies are known to cut costs. They may have instructed the lawyer not to depose her.”

Rick nodded, throwing his palms up in the air. “So, that’s the dilemma. Any suggestions?”

Tom refilled both their coffee cups. Rick’s coffee buzz had hit overload, but he accepted the cup without argument. He had been up now for almost twenty-four hours, and he needed all the fuel he could get.

“That is a dilemma, Rick, but the safe play would certainly be to not call her. You can still win without her, and if she were to turn...”

“...it could kill the case.”

Tom shrugged in agreement.

“But, without her, I could lose. With Rose Batson sticking to her statement and Tyler’s expert saying Bradshaw should’ve seen the rig before making his turn, their contrib case is pretty strong. You know as well as I do that, in Alabama, if a jury finds a plaintiff just one per cent contributorily negligent, then they are supposed to award a defense verdict. Also, the case loses its heat. I mean, the truth is that Willistone was breaking the law by requiring their truckers to speed and falsify their driver’s logs. Newton was speeding on September 2, 2009, because he had to speed to make the load. He’d gotten two tickets in the months leading up to the accident. Mule Morris would’ve nailed Willistone and Ultron to the cross.”

“Rick, we both know the truth is worthless if you can’t prove it. Morris is dead and, because of the fire, you have no documents that are helpful. Ms Bulyard didn’t give you anything, so...”

“...all I’ve got is Wilma,” Rick blurted, his frustration mounting. “I know, I know. So you wouldn’t call her?” Rick asked, meeting Tom’s eye.

Squinting back at him, Tom’s look was noncommittal. “I didn’t say that. I just said that was the safe play. Nobody could fault you for it.”

Rick sighed, feeling the first twinge of anger. So maybe, maybe not, huh? Thanks for nothing, old man.

“Rick, trying a lawsuit is ninety-five per cent preparation and five per cent gut. Once you’ve prepared yourself to the fullest, once you know your case backwards, forwards and every which-a-way you can know it, then you gotta let go and trust your gut. You can’t script everything out. Sure, you develop a plan and you follow the plan. But there are times in a trial when all the preparation in the world doesn’t matter. In those situations, you just have to trust your gut to make the best decision available.”

“Trust my gut?” Rick asked, unable to hide the sarcasm from his voice. “Well, my gut’s telling me I need help. That’s why I came here.”

“I’ve given you the best advice I can,” Tom said.

Rick looked up at the gray eyes of his mentor, seeing the truth in them. Advice was fine, and Rick appreciated it. But he needed more. Bob, Jeannie and Nicole Bradshaw deserved more. So did Ruth Ann.