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“But I know a lot more than that report shows. The judge should have all the information to make a decision.” My intrinsic sense of right and wrong knows that for sure.
Jeff sighs and takes a deep drink of coffee. “You and I are here to answer the questions asked of us, nothing more and nothing less. If you tell more than that, you’ll put Yvette on notice and my investigation will go nowhere, I can promise you that.”
“But she might get the claim settlement.”
Jeff looks at me from the corner of his eye. “So?”
“What do you mean, so? It’s not right.”
“Money’s not my concern, yours either. The law is.”
I let that sink in, mulling over my own human nature that doesn’t want Yvette to get something that isn’t rightfully hers and mixing it with my responsibilities as a coroner and representative of Williamson County.
In the end, it’s neither of those things that help me find steady ground. It’s Richard Horne, face down in his breakfast with orange juice in his lap. It’s not a bad way to go, but it wasn’t his time. And time is too precious. No one deserves to have theirs cut short.
A few minutes later, Jeff and I watch with interest as Yvette Horne and her attorney come in. The lawyer is definitely not from around here. He looks too ‘city’ to be from Williamson County, and besides, everyone knows everyone out here and I’ve never seen this guy.
He’s someone I’d remember too, not just because of the slicked-back hair, navy suit, and purple tie, but because there’s something about him that screams ‘ambulance chaser’.
Or maybe I think that because he’s sitting with Yvette, who’s dressed demurely in a black, knee-length dress and heels and dabbing at her bone-dry eyes with a tissue. When she sees that the judges’ table is empty, I hear her quiet ‘oh’ as she drops the act and merely stands stock-still at the attorney’s side.
“Thanks for coming. I’m Holland Monroe, Mrs. Horne’s attorney.” He holds out a hand to Jeff, who shakes it, and then to me, and I do the same. “Should be an open and shut case today. We’ll have you out of here as quick as possible.”
He smiles congenially as though he truly believes that. Or if he doesn’t, he puts on a good act, but that’s probably a skill all good lawyers have.
A side door opens and Judge Hopkins comes in. “Mornin’,” he greets us. With a more important person in the room, Mr. Monroe forgets us and escorts Yvette to one of the tables to sit.
“Mornin’, Mike,” Jeff tells the judge, holding up his cup of coffee to return the greeting. As he sits down at his own table, I see the instant Judge Mike Hopkins, a serious, take-no-bullshit guy who scares me to my core, realizes I’m in his courtroom. It’s not that he’s a bad guy. Quite the opposite, actually, but he’s who handled the guardianship paperwork when I adopted Jacob, and he’d, quite literally, held my family in his hands.
But his eyes widen ever so slightly and his lips part, and though he might’ve let Jacob and me be a family, Judge Hopkins believes at least a little bit of the gossip he’s heard about me.
I could see it then and I can see it in every line on his face now.
“Zoey Walker, long time no see,” he says, and I’m pretty sure that if he’d never seen me again, it still would’ve been too soon.
“Judge Hopkins, it has been a while. Jacob’s all grown now, going to school in town.”
“Good, good.” He nods, thankful to be done with the small talk. At least with me. He claps his hands and looks around. “So, where are these insurance guys? They playing at being fashionably late?”
I follow his glance to the clock on the wall that says 10:02. He’s right, that isn’t the way things are done around Williamson County. I look to Jeff with a raised eyebrow that he answers with a shrug as though he couldn’t care less.
He simply takes another sip of coffee, letting out a loud sigh of contentment.
As if Jeff’s sigh is their cue, the door behind me opens and we turn as one to see the Everlife team arrive. ‘Fashionably late’ is definitely saying something about this crew. Blake looks sexy and smart, in a black suit, grey tie, and glasses I’ve never seen him wear before.
But the other three men with him are on an entirely different level. I’ve never seen ‘walking money’ until right this moment. If someone told me the older gentleman was wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit, I’d believe it without hesitation. The suit is obviously custom tailored, accented with a large-faced watch and a red power tie.
A younger guy trails behind in a navy suit, eyes locked on the man who’s obviously an Everlife big wig.
