Part 17 (2/2)
This morning, she needed to focus on the hearing ahead of her. Alex called and insisted he'd pick her up. Not wanting to face this alone and grateful for his support, she agreed to wait for him to get her.
He rang the bell before she could grab her purse and meet him at the car, pulling her in for a kiss before either of them could speak. It didn't matter where they differed, right now they were a united front, and for that she was grateful.
”Are you ready for this?” he asked as they walked toward the courtroom.
She nodded. ”I have nothing to hide.”
He held open the heavy wooden door to the courtroom, and she stepped inside. He clasped her hand on the walk down the aisle. Eric and his attorney hadn't yet arrived, but Jonathan waited for her at the table. Alex took a seat directly behind her.
He squeezed her shoulder just as Eric and his attorney walked in. She had to give it to her foster brother, he cleaned up well, wearing a gray pinstriped suit and red tie. He might have pa.s.sed for a banker, the way he'd slicked his hair back and held himself with an air of authority and confidence. But it was the Visine bottle he pulled out of his jacket pocket so he could add drops to his eyes that gave him away, at least in Madison's mind.
”Remember,” Jonathan said, redirecting her attention. ”When you're up there, you answer only if his attorney asks you a direct question. Inflammatory upsetting statements? Ignore them,” he instructed her in a lawyerly voice, but his eyes held a glint of empathy. He'd seen her history. They both knew today wouldn't be pretty.
The only good thing was that Alex hadn't been with her when she and Jonathan had gone over testimony. Jonathan had wanted her alone and able to concentrate on his instructions, and she'd been grateful. A part of her wished Alex wasn't here today, but there was no stopping him, and she hadn't bothered to try.
She glanced toward the other table, where Eric and his attorney sat conferring the same way Madison and Jonathan just had. Eric glanced up, met her gaze, and shot her a direct glare mere seconds before the judge and his court clerk and deputy walked into the room. The next minutes pa.s.sed in a blur of formalities handled by the lawyers.
Of course it was up to her foster brother to prove his case, which meant he paraded witnesses attesting to his close relations.h.i.+p with his mother, his stellar character-before he began an attempt to a.s.sa.s.sinate hers.
People Madison hadn't seen in years came before the judge. Her first foster mother claimed she'd stolen personal things from the house and she'd had to send Madison back. More like she'd p.a.w.ned the items in an attempt to pay for the alcohol addiction she hid from her husband and the state. Even at twelve years old, Madison had been familiar with the signs. From there, her case worker from years ago, aged and gray now, took the stand, elaborating reasons Madison hadn't lasted at each foster home.
Nausea filled her at the unfairness of it all. The truth was, as Jon did his best to counter, the woman couldn't possibly remember Madison with all the other kids in and out of the system over the years. She was relying on a folder of printed information that included none of the underlying circ.u.mstances or Madison's truths.
As a social worker herself, she understood how little time most put into keeping up-to-date records. She'd struggled day and night to keep up with the caseload when she'd worked with abused women, and paperwork was done in between visits with victims. More than once, Jonathan rose and objected to the other lawyer's insinuations or attempts to discredit Madison, questioning the reasons for the character a.s.sa.s.sination. He offered an excuse of laying groundwork, and the judge agreed to humor him a little while longer.
The morning marched on with more of the same, and Madison was beyond embarra.s.sed that Alex had to hear her sordid youth, which she never discussed and preferred not to remember.
”Your Honor!” Jonathan rose again, his voice filled with frustration. ”Is there a point to this? It's up to Mr. Grayson to prove his claims that Ms. Evans used undue influence to gain access to her foster mother's power of attorney. So far I've heard nothing of the sort.”
”Good point, Mr. Ridgeway.” His Honor, Judge Collins, a kindly looking, balding older man, turned to Eric's attorney. ”Mr. Newcomb?”
”Just laying the foundation, Your Honor,” he repeated in a sickeningly placating tone. ”But we're happy to move on. We'd like to call Madison Evans to the stand.”
Her stomach cramped, but she'd been prepped for this moment, something Jonathan leaned close and reminded her. Alex placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, but she couldn't focus on him now. She couldn't even look at him.
Rising, she walked to the small witness box and took her seat.
Alex took in the stiff set of Madison's shoulders and the way she wouldn't glance his way or meet his gaze so he could offer rea.s.surance. He leaned forward in his seat, every muscle in his body tense and prepared to strike. Not that he could do a d.a.m.ned thing but sit and watch. There was nothing he hated more than feeling utterly useless when she needed him.
More than once this morning, he regretted not putting his personal feelings aside and staying with her last night. Once more in his life, he'd let ego get in the way of common, rational sense.
After some preliminary easy questions, her step-brother's lawyer went for stabbingly painful questions. ”How many foster homes were you in, Ms. Evans?”
”Five or six.”
”Actually, it was seven.”
”It's not something I like to remember.”
”No, I suppose not, given that n.o.body wanted to keep you.”
”Your Honor,” Jonathan said, rising.
They'd been advised that since this was a hearing and not a trial, formal objections wouldn't apply.
”Move it along, Mr. Newcomb. All this has already been established and is in the records.”
The other lawyer nodded. ”Then you ended up with the Graysons, and things changed for you.”
Since it wasn't a question, Madison didn't answer. Good girl, Alex thought.
”Were you told why the Graysons, who were an unusual type of foster family in that they didn't need the money provided by the state for your care, wanted to take you in?”
Madison nodded. ”Franny couldn't have kids after Eric, and she'd always wanted a daughter.”
”And they had money,” the b.a.s.t.a.r.d lawyer said.
Again, no question, and Madison merely stared at him.
”Were you and Mrs. Grayson close?” he asked.
”Yes.”
”She took you shopping, bought you clothes?”
”Yes.”
He rested an elbow on the witness stand. ”And you had your own room, unlike your last six ... no, make that seven foster homes, correct?”
”Yes.”
Alex saw the tension, the toll this was taking on her. His hands were fists at his sides.
”Had you brought any clothes with you from the home before?” the man asked.
”A few.”
”Personal things?” he clipped out.
”I didn't have any,” she said softly, her jaw trembling along with her voice.
Alex gripped the stainless bar that separated him from Jonathan, leaned forward, and whispered, ”Do something or I will.”
”Shh. I can't and you know it. This has to play out.”
Alex bit the inside of his cheek, his jaw aching from the effort of clenching his teeth to keep quiet.
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