Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [2]
“Do you?” I placed my hand over his.
His troubled blue eyes met mine. “Screwed if I do. Screwed if I don’t.”
My lips twitched. “That sounds about right.”
“Then call me as a witness.”
“All rise,” the bailiff called out as Judge Kay Fanning entered. Once seated, the judge glanced at me. “Is the defense ready?”
As this was a preliminary hearing, there was no jury. I was playing my cards for the judge only. “Yes, Your Honor. The defense calls Trevor Jordan.”
My breathing quickened as I approached the podium. This isn’t the Archer case. There’s no tainted evidence to screw things up. My hand trembled when I placed my notepad on the stand. Best not to risk my former routine of standing beside the podium in a show of confidence. I gripped the sides of the lectern.
After my client had been sworn in, I began my direct. “Please tell the court your name.”
He turned toward the judge. “I’m Trevor Jordan.”
Nice move. Exactly like I’d told him. “Where were you on the afternoon of October 20th?”
“I was at the Powell Memorial Gardens.”
“Why were you there?” Careful.
“I wanted to make a rubbing of Felicia’s gravestone.”
“Felicia Williams?”
His gaze darted toward his father. “Yes.”
“Was anyone else in the area?”
“No. I looked but didn’t find any caretaker.”
“Why did you need to find a caretaker?”
“An internet article about rubbings recommended that you get permission first.”
“What happened after you didn’t find a caretaker?”
“I placed tracing paper over the stone and began to rub chalk over it.”
“Did you intend to deface the grave?” Intent was critical in a charge of malicious defacement of a grave.
Trevor’s face flushed with indignation. “No. The tracing paper wasn’t supposed to leave a mark. I only wanted a keepsake. I…” He snapped his mouth shut.
Out of nowhere I developed lightheadedness and a smothering sensation as if there were no oxygen in the room. I couldn’t hear for the ringing in my ears and the pounding of my heart. I tried to speak but couldn’t. It was as if my body had a foot on both the gas and brake pedals.
“Ms. Sterling. Are you all right?” The sharp edge of the judge’s voice pierced my paralysis. “Is there a question?”
I glanced down but couldn’t bring my notes into focus. Where was I? Something about why Trevor had done the etching.
Desperate to regain control, I blurted, “Mr. Jordan, why of all the thousand of gravestones in Powell Memorial Gardens did you want a rubbing of Felicia Williams’s marker?”
Confusion flashed across Trevor’s face and he cast a nervous glance at his father.
“No, wait.” Why had I asked that question? I’d opened the motivation gate. “I withdraw—”
“Because I loved her.”
His admission was like a bombshell in the courtroom. Stunned silence was followed by screaming and shouting from both Felicia’s parents and Trevor’s father.
“Order.” Judge Fanning hammered her gavel. “Order in the court.”
Trevor’s father surged off his seat and stormed down the aisle toward the bench. “Tell them that’s a lie.” He shook his fist. “Take it back now before I beat the truth out of you.”
Even as I moved to place myself between Trevor and his father, Bailiff Scott charged the man. With ease he grabbed and twisted Tommy Jordan’s arm behind his back. Red-faced, Jordan turned his attention toward me. “You bitch. You warped my son. I’ll kill you for this.”
“Bailiff, remove him from the room,” Judge Fanning ordered.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Although the father bucked and dragged his heels, the bailiff quickly removed him. If the shouting in the hall was any indication, Jordan wasn’t quieting down.
I rather hoped the father would continue to resist so the bailiff would arrest him.
Judge Fanning rapped her gavel again to get everyone’s attention. “Ms. Sterling. I assume you’re done wreaking havoc.”
My face burned. “I’ve finished my direct.” I grabbed the notepad but kept my head high as I returned to the defense table. I would not break again. I could get through this mess.
“Does the state wish to cross examine?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Connie rushed to podium. “Mr. Jordan, you want this court to believe