Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Thank you, Mr. Bennett,” Lana said. “I have no further questions.”
Judge Vaughn looked up from the bench. “My apologies everyone, I need a ten-minute break before we proceed.” The judge stood and took the door to her chambers.
Max got up as the jurors filed out of the courtroom. Lana nodded her head toward the doorway. He followed her out to the hall, where small groups of people were whispering.
Wayfair and the other defense lawyers had exited the courtroom and were talking with Ryan Hearst. The defendant was dressed in a trim suit by a designer that Max recognized. Max smirked at the man, but Hearst simply returned a glassy-eyed gaze.
Quickly, Max checked his phone for messages. Sylvie hadn’t written with any updates. No progress yet on finding the stalker’s identity. Damn.
Lana was down at the other end of the hall, murmuring to Trevor. Her underling nodded and dashed off on an errand. She gave Max just a hint of a smile as he approached.
“Ms. Marchetti.”
“Mr. Bennett.”
They’d spent all morning on Max’s direct testimony.
Lana had asked him question by painstaking question, first establishing his background in the military and the personal security industry.
He’d explained how he had a private investigator’s license and sometimes consulted with the local authorities on cases.
Then Lana had walked Max through his investigation into Ryan Hearst and his eventual discovery of Heather’s necklace in Hearst’s bedroom.
While on the stand, Max had stayed completely focused on answering Lana’s questions. But now that they had a brief moment of rest, he let himself feel the simple pleasure of being near her. He couldn’t wait for this to be finished so he could take her home.
My girlfriend. The more he said that, the more he liked it.
“How am I doing?”
“The jury likes you. Trevor told me they were leaning forward in their seats when you described seeing the necklace. You’re quite the dramatic storyteller.”
“Just telling it like it happened.”
“And that’s what we need.” She pushed air through her mouth. “But it’s Wayfair’s turn with you. He’s going to try to piss you off.”
“I know, we’ve been over this.”
Max recalled what Wayfair had called Lana on the phone. A corrupt prosecutor who can’t keep her legs closed. But he brushed off the brief simmer of anger. Lana hadn’t let Wayfair get to her, and neither would Max.
“He’s going to imply—once again—that I planted the evidence,” Max recited. “And he’s going to ask about our relationship.”
Max wasn’t an expert on evidence rules. But apparently, Wayfair had plenty of leeway to make Lana’s witnesses look bad on the stand. Max’s job was to sit there and calmly take it. But he’d handled worse than that smarmy lawyer.
“Yes, he’s going to ask about us,” Lana said.
“And you’ll answer honestly. I could’ve brought it up on direct, but I still think it was better to focus on Heather’s necklace.
This way, Wayfair comes off as desperate, grasping for a distraction.
When I question you on redirect, you can explain that it’s a recent development, but we weren’t seeing each other during your investigation into Hearst.”
“I’ve got it. I promise.” He didn’t mind admitting his feelings for Lana. But Max didn’t like that Wayfair could force him to discuss his love life in public. If Lana could deal with this, though, then so could he.
Max swung by the restroom and grabbed a glass of water. Then it was back to the stand.
Judge Vaughn took her seat. “Defense, any cross-examination of the witness?”
Wayfair stood and walked forward into the well. “Mr. Bennett, you aren’t a police officer, are you?”
“No. I’m not.”
“It’s never been your job to investigate the death of Heather Barnes, correct?”
“That’s true.”
Wayfair adjusted his tie. “Then how did you get involved in this case at all?”
“Lana Marchetti asked me to look at the evidence and give my advice.”
“Oh.” Wayfair’s thick eyebrows lifted. “Ms. Marchetti? The prosecutor in this case?”
“Yes,” Max sighed. He’d already gone over all this earlier with Lana. Just get to it, he thought. Ask me the damned question you really want.
“You have a close friendship with Ms. Marchetti, isn’t that correct?”
“I guess so.”
“She told you she wanted Mr. Hearst prosecuted for murder?”
“No, she wanted the truth.”
“And she just needed one more piece of evidence to go after Ryan Hearst, didn’t she? So, you planted it?”
“No, I did not.”
“But you did want to help her, right? Make her look good?”
“Not by lying.”
“Have you ever had a romantic relationship with Ms. Marchetti?”
“Yes.”
“Are you currently in a relationship with Ms. Marchetti?”
Lana nodded from her seat, almost imperceptibly.
Calm. I’m totally calm. “Yes.”
Wayfair eyed him. Yet he didn’t look surprised. “But when I asked you that same question in a hearing before this court, you said no, didn’t you? Were you lying then?”
“No, I was not. I—”
“You were lying, weren’t you? In fact, you’ve been carrying on a sexual relationship with Ms. Marchetti this entire time, haven’t you?”
“That’s not correct. But I’m happy to explain.”
“Oh, you will? Would you care to explain these, Mr. Bennett?”
Wayfair opened his jacket, pulled out a stack of papers, and handed them to Max.
At first, he didn’t understand what he was seeing.
Photos.
Photos of him and Lana, together. They were in the ocean, arms around each other.
“Objection,” Lana said. “Is Mr. Wayfair introducing evidence? I don’t even know what this is.”
“It shows Mr. Bennett’s bias,” the defense lawyer replied. “Those images speak for themselves.”
“Let Ms. Marchetti see what you’re introducing, counsel.”
Max kept flipping through the photos. He couldn’t stop himself. His skin heated at the intimacy of the moments this camera had captured. There was Max lifting Lana out of the water, her legs around his waist. The two of them with their lips locked, their chemistry written in their body language.
And then, Lana herself. Close-ups of her body. Her thighs and stomach and breasts, beaded with saltwater, barely covered by her skimpy bikini.
What the fuck.
“What the hell is this?” Max growled, only realizing he’d spoken aloud when he heard the fury in his voice.
Wayfair’s smug face turned toward him. “Proof that you’re a liar.”
Lana and the judge were saying something, but it was all static in Max’s ears. He could only stare at these photos of him. Of Lana.
The beach on Sunday.
Wayfair had these pictures taken. And the scarf…the box Lana had gotten last night, the note…
That fucking note.
I told you I’d be watching.
“It was you.” Somehow, the lawyer was behind all of it.
“I’m sorry, what was that, Mr. Bennett?” Wayfair came closer, pretending he couldn’t hear. Or maybe he couldn’t over the other talking. The judge was saying something about silence, but Max’s vision had tunneled to the sleazy, despicable man in front of him.
The note. The calls. The threats. The car that rear-ended Lana and Aurora, that could’ve killed them if they’d crashed.
“It was you.” Wayfair was the stalker. Or he’d hired the guy.
The lawyer smiled, his eyes glinting. He knew exactly what Max meant.
“You’ve been terrorizing her. She could’ve been killed.” Max shot up from his seat, photos scattering, and grabbed a fistful of Wayfair’s shirt.
He’d expected Wayfair to cower. But the man’s smile only grew.
Then Max realized the rest of the courtroom had gone quiet. Lana and the judge were staring at him in abject horror. A juror whispered. Then another.
The bailiff was hurrying toward the witness stand.
“Mr. Bennett,” Judge Vaughn seethed. “That is enough.”
Wayfair extricated himself from Max’s grip. “This is outrageous, Your Honor. I’ve just been assaulted by the prosecution’s witness, in full view of the jury.”
Judge Vaughn motioned to the bailiff. “Please escort the jury from the room.” She sent a furious glance toward Max. “The witness stays.”
Max lowered himself to his seat. Oh, shit. What did I just do?
Lana slumped in her chair, eyes glazed. Wayfair stooped to gather up the photographs.
Once the bailiff had escorted the jurors out, the judge turned back to Max. “Young man, in all my years on this bench, I’ve never seen such behavior.”
“Your Honor—”
Lana snapped to attention now. Her eyes sent daggers in his direction. Not another word. Max clamped his mouth shut.
“Your Honor, the People apologize on behalf of Mr. Bennett,” Lana said. “I’m just as shocked as you are. But I’m sure that the witness’s outburst was not intentional. This was an unfortunate reaction to some events outside this courtroom. If Your Honor could allow me to explain?”
“I don’t see what explanation there could be. He just tried to strangle defense counsel.”
Bullshit. I barely wrinkled his tie. But he wasn’t dumb enough to say that, despite other evidence to the contrary.
“It was a momentary aberration,” Lana said. “A limiting instruction…”
“Ms. Marchetti, no limiting instruction is going to fix what the jurors just saw. You know better than that.”
Max looked from one person to the next as they spoke, trying to follow. He knew he’d fucked up royally. That was clear. But how badly would this mess up Lana’s case? What was the judge planning to do?
Wayfair was whispering to his co-counsel and the defendant. Then he straightened. “Your Honor, the prosecution is responsible for its witness. But this goes far beyond negligence or inadvertence. We hereby move for a mistrial and a finding that it was caused by prosecutorial bad faith.”
Lana jumped up. “No, please.”
“I’ll hear from the prosecution. But first, bailiff, I’d like Mr. Bennett removed from my courtroom. He’s lucky I don’t appoint a special prosecutor to charge him. If he steps a toe out of line inside this building, I’ll do just that.”
Max sat on a bench in the hallway, head back against the wall. A few reporters had tried to speak to him, but he’d ignored them until they left him alone.