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“Twenty times?” God. He was so condescending.
“No. Twenty years.” She wasn’t affected, still speaking clearly. There wasn’t a flicker of remorse on her face. “Since I was a child, I’ve struggled with depression. I’ve been hospitalized for it thirteen times over the last twenty years.”
“And is that something you’re proud of?”
Her nostrils flared, just slightly. “It’s who I am. I can’t change me. I’ve been trying; that’s the purpose for those hospital visits. I’m proud that I’ve sought help.”
“Right.” The lawyer sounded dejected, as if he wasn’t sure where to go from there. A cough. He leaned forward on the podium. “Miss Callas, tell us about your relationship with Bailey Hayes.”
Another rip cord of reactions snapped through the room, and I knew it, because I felt it. It landed on me, smacking me hard in the chest.
This whole case was about me, but a trickle of dread slid down my spine, pooling at the bottom.
Payton found me in the room. Her eyes narrowed, briefly, before sliding to look at my mother, and whatever look they shared, Payton suddenly looked like she was on a mission. Her eyes grew keen. The corners of her mouth turned up, just slightly.
“I don’t really know Miss Hayes. Bailey Hayes.”
The lawyer’s head jerked back, and his hands clenched around the sides of the podium. He didn’t look at his team this time. His head inclined. “Excuse me?”
She repeated, “I don’t really know Bailey Hayes.” She wenton to explain, “Bailey wasn’t living at the Chesapeake when I was first called to come and help take care of Seraphina and Cyclone.”
“Cyclone?”
“Curt Francis. Cyclone is his nickname.”
“And the Chesapeake is in reference to…”
“To the Francis family’s main home. It’s a large estate and it was given a name.”
“I see.” But the lawyer’s tone wasn’t sounding sure. His head twisted, taking in his team once more. His papers were in his hand, his fist clenching around them for a moment. “Your Honor, we’re done with the witness.”
The judge nodded, turning to the prosecution. It was now their turn to question her, and they did. The district attorney hopped up, and her first question was out even before she got behind the podium. “Miss Callas, please tell us more about your relationship with your sister.”
“Objection!”
Before the judge could rule, the district attorney spoke. “It was introduced in their questioning. I can explore it.”
The judge nodded, looking as if he was going to say the same thing. “Overruled. Proceed, counselor.”
She cleared her throat, taking on the same posture that the defense lawyer had used—hands tight on the podium, head forward—but with her, it was a whole different feel. She was eager. Her next question came out and you could hear her salivating for the answer. “Payton, please tell us about your relationship with the defendant.”
“Quinn and I have never gotten along.”
“How so?”
“She’s not a good person.”
“Objection!”
The two sides argued over this point until the judge sighed and asked Payton to keep her personal opinion of her sister fromher answers. “Only facts, Miss Callas. That would be more helpful.”
She nodded, her eyes earnest. “Okay, well then… fact. My sister would lock me in the closet when she wanted to spend time with her friends.”
“Objectio—”
The judge raised his hand. “She can testify. It’s why you called her here.” He nodded to Payton. “Proceed.”
“Fact.” She didn’t miss a beat. “Our father was a gambler. He was old-school. To pay off his debt, he sent Quinn and myself to live in Greece with someone, and when we were there, Quinn became a big partier. That’s when she’d lock me in a closet, but…” Her mouth parted and she faltered.
