A Merciful Silence (Mercy Kilpatrick #4)(28)

His foot landed on my back, crushing me down to the floor, and my nose made a sickening crack. Blood dripped. The new spots on the floor resembled the spaghetti sauce.

“Dammit!” he swore. “Another fucking mess.”

Still on the floor, I slapped my hand to my nose, and pain shot to my brain at the touch.

“Look right there!” He knelt and pointed.

From my view on the floor I could see under the cabinet. The sauce had splashed up under the cabinet and I’d missed it. I blinked back tears, pain still rocketing from my nose. “I see it,” I mumbled, tasting blood in my mouth. My stomach heaved at the metallic flavor.

Don’t puke, don’t puke.

A wet dishrag dropped beside me. I shakily picked it up, keeping my other hand over my nose, feeling warm blood flow between my fingers. I scrubbed at the dried sauce until I saw no more, double-and triple-checking the area. Then I cleaned up my blood.

He stood behind me and silently watched every move.

I stood, rinsed out the dishrag, and then laid a clean one beside the sink from the kitchen drawer. I clenched the wet one in my hand to take to the laundry and grabbed a napkin to hold below my nose. Facing him, I stood silently, my gaze on the floor, waiting to be dismissed.

He made me wait a full ten seconds.

“Did you learn something?” he finally asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Look me in the eye when speaking to me!”

I immediately looked up, my stomach knotting in fear. His gaze was furious, and I hated him. Despised him with every angry cell of my body.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

“No, sir.”

“Go to bed.”

I ran. I put the dishrag in the laundry, grabbed a dark-colored bath towel, and then crawled in my bed, covering my pillow with the towel, terrified to get blood on the sheets. My legs shook for an hour. My nose throbbed, but I didn’t dare wake my mother to ask for help.

I lay in bed and imagined the death of my father.





FOURTEEN

Truman realized too late that it had been a mistake to invite Royce along to Joshua Forbes’s arraignment.

The young cop wouldn’t stop talking or asking questions. Sitting by Truman in the courthouse, Royce delivered a running commentary under his breath as the judge arraigned other defendants. Twice Truman had told him to be quiet, but the cop’s lips kept moving.

Truman was ready for the judge to ask Royce to leave.

Joshua sat at the front in the county jail’s bright-orange inmate clothing. His chin was up and his shoulders held stiffly back. He stood out from the other inmates, who slouched and stared at their feet. Truman hadn’t seen the sovereign citizen turn around, and he wondered if Joshua knew he was there.

The judge called Joshua Forbes.

“Finally,” Royce muttered.

Truman liked Judge Parks. The older man was direct and took no bullshit from lawyers or defendants. He’d already made one defendant cry that morning.

Joshua rose and stepped in front of the bench, his hands cuffed behind his back.

Judge Parks looked at him over his reading glasses. “You’ve got quite a list of charges here, Mr. Forbes. No license, no registration, speeding, resisting arrest. How do you plead?”

“I am not Joshua Forbes.”

Even from his seat in the back, Truman could see the gleam in the judge’s eye at Joshua’s statement. Joshua didn’t know what he was up against.

“Well, who are you?”

“I am the representative of Joshua Forbes. I’m here to challenge the jurisdiction of this court,” Joshua announced. “It has no authority over me.”

“What the hell?” Royce whispered.

Truman shushed him.

“Why is that, Mr. Forbes?” The judge’s tone was polite.

“This is a maritime admiralty court—”

“No, it’s not,” shot back the judge.

“Maritime?” Royce asked. “Does he mean like in the ocean?”

“I have no idea,” whispered Truman.

“Is this a common-law court?” Joshua asked.

“No.”

“I am not accountable to your laws.”

“The laws apply to everybody,” answered the judge.

“I am not a US citizen. I am sovereign under God.”

Royce started coughing uncontrollably, and Truman slapped him on the back, glancing at the judge. The judge was focused on Joshua.

The judge removed his reading glasses. “Is that a not-guilty plea on the charges?”

“I will not plead. I am only here to challenge jurisdiction.”

“When there is no plea, I enter a plea of not guilty for you,” said the judge. “Do you have an attorney to represent you at trial?”

“No. I will represent myself.”

“This court strongly recommends you have an attorney.”

“There is no need. I know my rights.”

The judge sighed. “Of course you do.” He proceeded to schedule a trial for Joshua and dismissed him.

Truman didn’t miss the stunned look on Joshua’s face.

“Did he really think the judge would dismiss the charges?” Royce whispered behind his hand to Truman.

“Of course he did. Just like he believed his diplomatic license gave him the right to drive however he wanted,” Truman answered. He stood. “We’re done here.”