The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(98)

When he saw Neighbors, goosebumps broke out on his arm.

His old teammate on the defensive line was standing. As were Lee Roy and the rest of the team. They were all standing, and as if the voice were speaking right to him, Tom heard words from long ago: Men, there’s gonna come a day in your life when things aren’t going too well. Your wife has left you or died, your house has burned down, you’ve lost your job and you ain’t feeling too good about nothing. When that day comes, what are you gonna do? You gonna quit?

Tom blinked back tears of pain, as the words of the Man came back to him. It had been summer workouts, 1960. Blistering heat that made you want to puke, and some did. Gassers followed by pushups followed by more gassers. Some quit.

But not Thomas Jackson McMurtrie. Not then. Not now.

Not ever. Tom removed his hands from his knees, and straightened himself. He looked at Ruth Ann, and she too was standing, her face showing worry and strength. Turning, it appeared that half the courtroom was now standing. Rufus Haynes, Bill Burbaker, every former student in the room and, finally, the Honorable Art Hancock.

Tom steadied himself, and faced the bench. “I’m fine, Judge. Ms Bulyard, what was your position at Ultron?” On wobbly legs, Tom walked towards the back of the jury box, holding the bill of lading in his hand.

“Records custodian.”

“And, in your position as records custodian, did you keep bills of lading?”

“Yes, I did. When we received a bill, I would always sign at the bottom that I had received it and then I would file it away.”

Tom approached the witness stand, handing the bill to Faith. “Ms Bulyard, I’m showing you what’s been marked as Plaintiff’s Exhibit 2. Do you recognize this document?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What is it?”

“It is a bill of lading for a delivery made by Willistone Trucking Company on September 2, 2009.”

“Is that your signature at the bottom of the bill?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Was this document made and kept in the normal course of business of Ultron Gasoline?”

“Yes, it was.”

Almost there, Tom thought, squeezing his fists together as another stab of pain hit him.

“Your honor, we would offer Plaintiff’s Exhibit 2.”

“Any objection?” Cutler asked, and Tom followed his eyes to Tyler, who, to Tom’s surprise, remained seated.

“No, your honor.”

“OK, the document is admitted,” Cutler said.

Tom cut his eyes to Rick, but the boy was already moving, walking towards the defense table.

“Your honor,” Tom said. “We’d like to show this document to the jury. Would it be possible to use the defendant’s laptop computer as we do not have any of that equipment?”

Cutler shrugged and looked at the defense table. “Mr Tyler?”

Tom turned also. “Jameson, could we please borrow your laptop for a few seconds?”

It was all Tom could do not to laugh. If Jameson were to refuse the request, he would come off as a jerk, which, in a case like this, could be the difference in winning and losing.

“Certainly,” Tyler replied, the voice of compassion and courtesy.

“Thank you,” Tom said. Then he nodded at Rick, who inserted the flash drive in the lap top.

The bill of lading came to life on the screen to the right of the witness stand, in full view of the jury. Tom took a pointer and flashed the red light at the top of the bill. He had forgotten his pain in the adrenaline of the moment.

“What, again, is the date on this document?” Tom asked.

“September 2, 2009.”

“And I see there’s a blank for driver. What does that say?”

“Newton,” Faith answered.

“And the blanks for loaders?”

“Morris and Carmichael.”

“Can you tell on the bill where the load was going?”

“Yes, place of delivery is identified as Montgomery. Filling stations 7 and 8.”

Tom lowered his pointer to the next blank, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. “And delivery time, what does that mean?”

“That is the expected time that the load would be delivered.”

“What was that time?”

“11am.”

Tom lowered the pointer, and looked at the jury. “What does pickup time mean?”

“That is the time the load is picked up from the plant. The loaders are instructed to stamp the time in that blank right after they’ve loaded the truck.”

Tom continued to gaze at the jury, all of whom were looking intently at the screen. “What is the time stamped in that blank, Ms Bulyard?”

“9.57am.”

Tom paused, letting the answer sink in. Time for the grand finale.

“So, Ms Bulyard, on September 2, 2009, driver Newton picked up a load of Ultron gasoline in Tuscaloosa at 9.57am.” Tom made sure his voice carried to the far reaches of the courtroom.

“Yes.”

“And he was due in Montgomery by 11?”

“Yes.”

Yes. Tom looked at the jury, seeing several knowing nods. “No further questions.”



“Cross examination, Mr Tyler?”

Jameson Tyler stood, smiling at the witness and trying to maintain his cool. For the first time since he was a pup lawyer, he didn’t know what to do. His instincts said this witness was a landmine and that he shouldn’t ask her any questions.