The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(85)

... she felt better.

“Momma...” Danny stood next to her, and the words soaked into her body like hot chicken noodle soup. God, it felt good to hear those words.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweetie,” Faith finally said, turning to Danny and placing her hand on his cheek. “Momma’s just fine. Let’s go back to the hotel.”



Thirty minutes later, they were back in the hotel room, and the boys turned on the TV. Faith lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking. Stretching her arms over her head, she smelled her own body odor and almost gagged. Then she glared hard at her cell phone. For a second, she reached for it, but then, just as quickly, she stopped and got off the bed.

Seconds later, she was shutting the bathroom door and turning on the tub. She had a lot of decisions to make, and a lot of thinking to do.

But first she needed a bath.





74


Rick entered the courtroom at exactly the same time as Judge Cutler. It was 1pm on the dot, and he had unsuccessfully tried to reach Faith Bulyard for the last hour. Even worse, Dawn and Powell had driven to her house in Northport, and no one was home nor was there any sign of her.

“Any luck?” the Professor asked, as Rick took his place beside him.

“Nothing,” Rick said, feeling unsteady on his feet. Things were happening too fast.

“Counsel, call your next witness,” Judge Cutler directed from the bench.

Rick looked to the Professor, whose entire demeanor registered perfect calm.

“What are we gonna do?” Rick asked. “We’re out of witnesses and we can’t find Faith. Like you said, the bill of lading is worthless if we can’t put Faith on the stand to authenticate it. Your cross of Wilma and Dawn’s testimony this morning saved us from getting killed, but we need something substantive. We can’t win this case with just Newton’s speed, because Ms Rose’s statement that Bradshaw pulled in front of the rig cancels it out. It’s a wash, and that’s all the Wilma fiasco was. A wash.” Rick rubbed his forehead. “Professor, we have to get that bill in front of the jury.”

“I know,” Tom said. “Look, I have a plan. Just trust me, OK?”

Rick sucked in a breath as the Professor stood.

“Your honor, at this time, we’d like to offer a certified copy of Harold ‘Dewey’ Newton’s driving record from the Alabama Department of Safety,” Tom said, standing and delivering a copy of the exhibit to the Judge and then another to Tyler. The driving record showed Dewey Newton’s two speeding tickets in the six months prior to the accident.

Rick exhaled, grateful that the Professor was here. In the wake of Wilma’s testimony, the chase for Dawn last night and trying to find Faith Bulyard, Rick had forgotten all about Dewey’s driving record.

“Any objection?” Cutler asked, darting his eyes to Tyler.

“No, your honor.”

“Very well, the document is admitted. Counsel, call your next witness.”

Rick’s stomach tightened into a knot. We don’t have a next witness.

“Your honor, the plaintiff rests,” Tom said, and Rick could hardly believe his ears. How can we rest? We’ve finally got a document that helps us. We just need a recess, so we can find Faith and get her down here.

“Professor...” Rick whispered but Tom ignored him.

“Are there any motions the defendant would like to bring at this time?” Cutler asked, looking to defense table, where Tyler was already standing and walking towards the bench. At the close of the plaintiff’s case in chief, it was customary for the defendant to make a motion for judgment as matter of law.

“Yes, your honor,” Tyler said, and Tom also started to approach. Rick followed and grabbed the Professor’s forearm. “Professor...”

Tom turned and put his arm around Rick, whispering slowly into his ear, “You’re just going to have to trust me, son.”





75


Wilma Newton awoke to the sound of knocking.

“Housekeeping!” A female voice said.

Wilma tried to get up, but couldn’t.

“Come back later,” she managed. She rolled over and felt a wave of nausea. She was on the floor of the hotel room, her arms cradled over the telephone. What the hell...

She let go of the phone and tried to stand, but she was too weak. The room began to spin, and she grabbed the side of the hot tub. She again tried to stand, but the nausea was too much and she puked in the tub.

“Damn. Damn.” She said out loud. She looked around, trying to get her bearings. JimBone was gone. Good. She looked at her knees, which were red and partially skinned. Then she glanced back at the phone, which still lay on the floor below the bedside dresser. She closed her eyes and saw a fleeting vision of herself rolling off the bed and crawling on the carpet towards the bedside table, reaching for the phone. She had known JimBone would try to kill Dawn, and had wanted to warn Rick. Did I get him? she wondered. She couldn’t remember, and wasn’t even entirely sure she had made the call. Everything was a blur. Please let her be all right, Wilma prayed.

After several dry heaves, she tried to stand. When she did, another rush of nausea came over her. This time she made it into the bathroom. After puking for several more minutes, she ran some water at the sink and looked in the mirror.