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“That’s because we just got Alexander Meek’s signed affidavit, stating Norma knew about the defective parts and the missing calibration records but approved them, anyway.” I cut my attention back to Norma. “The way I see it, you’re the reason my client’s husband died.”
Her bottom lip trembles.
“Admit it, Norma. You knew there were issues, but someone wanted those parts shipped out, so you ignored protocols and every quality standard in existence to make your boss happy.”
“I didn’t think it mattered,” she says softly. “The parts were nearly perfect.”
My shoulders tense and I clench my jaw. “Didn’t think it mattered? Norma, you killed that man.” I search her face. “You’re going to sit here and tell me that’s not a big deal?”
“I’m sorry!” she sobs. “We were already so behind on schedule, and the parts were so close to what we needed. They were threatening to fire me. What was I supposed to do?”
“Norma,” her lawyer says, placing his hand on hers. “Don’t say anything else.”
I scoff and turn off the camera, glaring at the beta as she breaks down. “Don’t worry, Norma. I got everything I needed.” Pushing away from the table, I grab my files and glower at the webcam, through which the bigwigs at Pearson Automotive and their overpaid counsel have been observing the deposition. “I expect a settlement offer on my desk by the end of the week, and there better be enough zeroes to set my client up for life. She didn’t do this—your piece of shit company did—and I’m not going to let you accuse her of negligent driving when it was Norma who fucked up.”
Norma releases a full-body sob, covering her face with shaking hands, but she’s not getting any of my sympathy. People like Norma make decisions like this every day, hoping the risk is low enough that no one will notice or care. Well, I fucking care, and a sob story about a shitty boss isn’t a good enough excuse for what happened.
Memories of roaring flames flicker across my vision, and sulfur and smoke tingle inside my nose. With a death grip on the folders, I storm out of the office and count to six as I inhale,focusing on that, instead of the phantom cries floating through my head.
I slam my office door closed and toss the folders onto my desk. Pacing behind it, I breathe and count until the awful visions from that night fade and I can think without wanting to race back into that room to beat the shit out of that lawyer for defending Pearson Motors.
“Mr. Weingard, I have your father on line one.” My assistant’s voice cuts through my haze of anger.
I stomp to my desk and jam my finger into the response button. “Tell him I’m busy.” It could be any of my dads, but I’m too heated to talk to them right now.
“I would, but he insisted I put him through,” Suzie says.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhale. “Send him through.”
“Right away, sir, and I’m sorry.” Suzie is a good assistant.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You can’t ignore a named partner when they’re demanding things.”
She chuckles. “No, you can’t. I’m transferring him to you now.”
The line clicks. “Brady?” Trenton asks.
“Hey, Dad.” He’s not my biological father—that’s Lock—but he raised me as much as Lock did. “What’s going on?” I leave him on speakerphone and straighten the folders I’d carelessly discarded earlier.
“First, how’d the deposition go?”
I take a calming breath before answering. “Fine. They’ll settle.”
“I figured you had them once you got that affidavit...and you’re okay?” His concern is touching, but I refuse to acknowledge how much that deposition bothered me. If I even hint at my PTSD, they’ll pull me off these types of cases, but sticking it to the companies who carelessly harm innocentpeople is the only reason I went to law school, and I can’t have that taken away from me.
“Fine,” I lie. “It was intense for a minute, but as soon as I told them what it said, she caved. It’s all on tape.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
I’m surprised he’s asking, given that my mom, his first mate, was killed in an accident that could have been prevented if the car company had paused production when they realized they had faulty parts. This case hits way too close to home for our family, but it’s the type of case we take on more often than not.
We generally avoid bringing up Mom because it’s too painful. While I appreciate his concern, I’m not going to dive into memories that are better kept locked away.
“I’m good. Now, are you going to tell me why you scared my secretary into defying me?”
He chuckles. “I didn’t scare her.”
“I told her I didn’t want to talk, and she practically begged me to take the call.” A bit of an exaggeration, but it’s not like Trenton to throw his weight around as a named partner, because Lock and Wyatt do it enough for all three of them.
