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“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 palp
able 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?”
“Silence!” The judge hammered.
Hector’s face contorted as he stood, his stormy, furious blue eyes tempting Beth to curl herself into a ball. “You think you can come here and humiliate me?”
“Counselor! You will silence your witness or I’ll hold you both in contempt!” Furious now, blue veins stuck out on Judge Prescott’s neck.
Hector fell quiet, chastised and displeased, but Mason wasn’t yet done with him.
The little black book came up for showing. In the book were Hector’s contact numbers for Miguel Gomez, the man who smuggled the illegal marijuana Hector had been sticking to his patients. Also in the book were the numbers of several bribed members of the press who’d promptly been fired not only by the Daily, but from the competition as soon as their questionable activities had been reported. Stumbling over his denials, Hector ended up, unwillingly, admitting to all the allegations Mason presented.
By the time he left the stand, her ex-husband looked like an unstable madman, unfit for being a doctor or a parent, while Landon sat quietly beside her, the epitome of the somber businessman.
Scrambling to get back the upper hand, Halifax’s lawyer called up the last witness. The entire case now hinged on the nanny.
Anna took the stand, and once she settled in the seat, she made eye contact with Beth.
Hector’s lawyer interrogated her on Hector’s parenting. Anna answered the questions easily at first, but she kept glancing at Beth, as though waging some sort of silent battle inside herself. Her answers seemed to be limited to “yes” and “no,” but she spoke them as though they were wrenched and squeezed out of her by force.
When it was Mason’s turn, he first asked her basic questions about her role in raising David. He seemed to barely be getting warmed up when her eyes scanned the room, took in the sight of Landon’s family, then returned to Beth, and she blurted, “I can’t do this,” in a wild and frantic voice.
