The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(99)

But that’s not an option, he thought. I can’t let the jury’s last image of the trial be the bill of lading that shows we made Newton speed on the day of the accident. Even if I don’t score any points with her, maybe I can at least muddy the water a little.

“Yes, your honor,” Tyler said, approaching the stand. “Ms Bulyard, you don’t have any personal knowledge of the schedule that Dewey Newton kept at Willistone Trucking Company, do you?”

“Well... the bill of lading...” Faith pointed to the screen, and Jameson tensed as he noticed that the bill still showed on the screen. His associate had forgotten to take it off. “... shows his schedule for September 2nd with us.”

As calmly as he could manage, Jameson walked to his counsel table and leaned into his associate’s ear. “Turn that damn thing off.”

The screen went blank. “OK, Ms Bulyard, the document says what it says. But you don’t know why Dewey Newton was late to your plant that day, do you?”

Faith shrugged. “I don’t know he was late. For all I know, we may have been late.”

Yes, Tyler thought, feeling relief flood his body as his eyes moved to the jury. Did you hear that? he tried to convey with his eyes. If the plant was late or slow loading the truck, then Willistone was in the clear. He could take all of the steam out of Tom’s direct.

“That’s right, Ms Bulyard,” Tyler said, keeping his voice measured. Just one more question. “So Mr Newton’s schedule with Willistone on September 2, 2009 could have been just fine, and for all you know, it was Ultron’s delay that caused the truck not to be loaded until 9.57, correct?”

Jameson held his breath for the answer, intending to sit down immediately after hearing “yes” or “correct”. But the answer didn’t immediately come. Faith Bulyard’s face had reddened, and she looked angry, glaring not at Tyler but out in the galley.

“Ms Bulyard, would you like me to repeat the question?” he asked, feeling a deep sense of dread come over him.

“No, I heard the question just fine,” Faith said, still glaring past Tyler into the audience. He followed her gaze, and his chest constricted when he saw its intended target. Oh, no...

“Ms Bulyard, let me–” he started, but Faith Bulyard’s words cut through his like a knife.

“Shut up, Mr Tyler,” Faith said, as her eyes burned into Jack Willistone’s. The anger she’d built up for the past nine months pulsed in her veins. “I heard your question, and I’m going to answer it.” Faith cut her eyes from Jack and looked directly at the jury. “The answer is, for that day, I don’t know exactly why the truck wasn’t loaded until 9.57, but–”

“You answered my question,” Tyler interrupted. “And I have nothing–”

“Let me finish,” Faith said, her whole body trembling as she rose from the chair. She sensed that her time on the stand was almost over, and she still hadn’t said what she came to say.

“Your honor, if the witness says anything further, it will be unresponsive and irrelevant. We have no further questions.”

Faith whirled around and looked at the judge, who was rubbing his eyebrows. “Your honor, I have more to–”

“The witness will stop talking,” Cutler interrupted, banging his gavel. “I agree with Mr Tyler. You’ve answered his question.”

“No,” Faith said. “I–”

“Ms Bulyard, if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to hold you in contempt,” the Judge said, again banging his gavel. “Now, will there be any re-direct from the plaintiff?”

Faith continued to stand, moving her gaze to Rick Drake, whose eyes were as wide as her own. Behind Rick, she saw her two sons. Junior’s face was crimson with anger, but Danny was staring off into space, still in total shock. What have I done? Faith thought. Have I come all this way for nothing?

“Ms Bulyard.”

Faith turned at the sound of the voice, and the older man – the Professor – was standing in front of her. His hand was on her shoulder. “Please, ma’am, sit down and let me ask you a couple more questions.”

Faith did as she was told.

“Ms Bulyard, what were you about to say before Mr Tyler cut you off?”

“Objection, your honor,” Tyler cut in. He too had remained standing. “Ms Bulyard answered my last question. Allowing her to give an unsolicited speech to this jury, which may include hearsay and other inadmissible material, would not be proper, and could be highly prejudicial to the defendants.”

“I agree,” Cutler said. “The objection is sustained. Mr McMurtrie, you’ll need to ask a different question.”

Tom looked at Faith’s pleading face, thinking of the question that prompted her outburst. He had forgotten about the pain. He could sense that the entire trial might ride on what Faith Bulyard wanted to say. “Ms Bulyard, what do you know about the schedules Willistone Trucking Company put its drivers on?”

“Before he died, my husband, Buck, told me that–”

“Objection, your honor, hearsay,” Tyler said.

“Sustained,” Cutler agreed.

Damnit, Tom thought. If there had been any time to talk with Faith prior to putting her on the stand, he would know exactly what to ask her. Now, he was just winging it, trusting his instincts and forty years of experience. “Ms Bulyard, other than what Buck told you, what do you know about the schedules?”