The men had been locked in Landon’s study all through last night, and it seemed that whatever last minute evidence Landon had provided made the lawyer conspiratorially tell Beth this morning, “It’s in the bag.”
Beth had no idea what the men planned to accomplish today, but as the hearing got underway, when Hector’s head nurse and primary character witness was being questioned, Beth prayed they had a plan.
Because the head nurse somehow managed to make it sound like the bastard was on his merry way to being canonized.
“He’s been a good father, completely dedicated to providing for his son…” the head nurse was saying. A tidy woman, she had clear skin, little makeup, a bun at her nape that did not have so much as a hair out of place. Her hands remained clasped over her lap as she spoke.
Mason didn’t seem impressed.
“Dr. Halifax provides his son with what, exactly?” he asked her, addressing the court first, then the woman. “Money? Or time, love and comfort, as his mother did?”
The head nurse bit her lower lip.
“Your Honor,” Mason then said, when the woman didn’t answer, “may I submit for evidence this recording of the witness speaking.”
Before Beth could register what happened, a small tape recorder played, and the nurse’s eyes went huge as a voice remarkably like hers rang out.
Oh, yes, he’s horrible in that respect. He’s cheap with money, cheap with praise, cheap with everything. We have photocopies of patient records and submit them twice for insurance payment. All I do is change the patient’s name…
Murmurs erupted in the courtroom. Astounded whispers.
Patients are so paranoid, it’s so laughable. If the doctor tells them there’s a miracle drug that will cure all their troubles, most will jump in without question—they’re addicted to the medical marijuana the doctor’s supplying. It’s such good stuff, do you want a little hit?
The courtroom whispers escalated to shocked voices.
“Tell me, Miss Sanchez,” Mason broke in in a booming voice. “Is that you speaking?”
“Objection on the grounds of irrelevance, Your Honor!” Hector’s lawyer cried, hands on the table.
“Overruled,” the judge said. “Sit down, counselor.”
Landon gave Beth a reassuring hand-squeeze as the nurse shifted uncomfortably in her seat, a bug under the microscope. Her eyes sought out Julian John’s in the benches, and Beth puzzled to see her brother-in-law shoot the woman a winning, you’re-screwed smile. The kind of smile the cat would give the mouse. “Yes. It’s my voice,” she admitted, shooting daggers at Julian, who didn’t seem to mind at all.
“Is that you speaking about Dr. Halifax?”
“I…yes.”
“Is that you referring to Dr. Halifax committing insurance fraud in order to ‘provide’ for his lavish lifestyle while negligent of his child?”
“Uh, well—”
“Is that you admitting to Dr. Halifax’s numerous illegal activities, in which you’ve played a part?”
“But I was only—”
“Is that you, Miss Sanchez, speaking from first-hand knowledge about Dr. Halifax being engaged in medical malpractice and the illegal prescription of medical marijuana?”
She lowered her face as though she wanted to bury it under her sweater. “Yes.”
Mason allowed the answer to echo in the room until it faded into a charged quiet. Then, curtly, with a pleased nod, he said, “No more questions, Your Honor.”
When Hector was called up to the stand, the air of the courtroom became charged with hostility. His own lawyer interrogated him first, asking him questions about his son, making suggestions that hinted at his being a loving father when Beth knew that was not the case at all! How could she have ever married him? How could she have thought that whatever childish infatuation she’d felt for him could be love? What she felt for Landon defied even comparison—an ocean compared to a grain of sand.
When Mason got to have his go at the man, he had a take-no-prisoners expression on his face. He lifted a piece of paper for all to see. The court, the judge and then the witness.
“Is this your email, Dr. Halifax?”
Hector didn’t so much as glance at the page. “Possibly.”
“Yes or no, Dr. Halifax. Did you write this email to a patient of yours, Chrystine Gage?”
“Yes,” Hector tightly conceded.
“And is this you, Doctor, threatening not to hand out any more prescriptions to your patient unless she did what you commanded?”
“I was merely—”
“Is it or is it not you, threatening a patient?”
“Yes,” he ground, through clenched teeth.
Mason shook his head in bleak disapproval. “What drug was your patient on?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Your Honor.” Mason produced a new piece of evidence. “We have a prescription from Dr. Halifax made out to Chrystine Gage two days before her death for a drug called Clonazepam.
“Isn’t Clonazepam prescribed not only as an anti-anxiety medication, but also as a sleeping pill?”
Hector was silent.
“Isn’t it risky for a patient to drive under the influence?”
Hector still didn’t respond.
“The witness will answer the counselor,” the judge commanded.
“Yes, the drug can be used as a sleeping pill!” Hector grumbled. “Driving is not recommended while using it.”
“And yet that is precisely what you were demanding your patient do—that she drive to a lonely parking lot in the middle of the night to meet you. That is what your patient ultimately did, resulting in the crash that killed her and her young boy. You killed a ten-month-old baby, Dr. Halifax. You killed a mother and her child—what’s there to recommend you for taking care of your own child?”
“Objection, Your Honor!”
“Overruled. The witness’s comment on this is relevant. Answer.”
Hector scowled at Beth, the blatant fury in his gaze palpable as a tornado.
He began shaking, visibly shaking in his seat, and burst out, “You.” He trained his finger like a gun on Beth’s forehead, and his mocking tone felt like shards of glass scraping down her skin. “You’re worse than I am! Who do you think you are, you little tramp?”