Chapter Twenty-nine #2
“Ms. Mitchell, you state that you had no idea it was Mr. Bristol’s mask you hit, correct?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think it was?”
Razor’s brow creased. “I’m sorry?”
“There was only Mr. Bristol behind you. What did you think your elbow hit when it made contact with his mask?”
“I don’t know. I was focused on the runner.”
Ms. Hill flipped back to the front of her notepad. “Yes, you stated that you popped up and threw the ball in the direction of second base.”
“That’s correct.”
“Is that normal operating procedure for you?”
Razor looked at Angela, confused, but she nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Ms. Hill stood and walked toward a television in the corner and turned it on to reveal a freeze-framed shot of Razor.
“This is a video of Ms. Mitchell—a compilation, if you will, of her playing.” She pressed play and everyone watched with rapt attention. “As you can see, Ms. Mitchell’s stance is pretty consistent, right down to the way she throws to second base.”
Razor watched, curious why Ms. Hill was showing the video.
“In every clip, we see her throwing the ball from her knees. Not once does she stand up, like she did the day she assaulted my client.”
Ms. Hill stopped the video, threw the remote on the table, and settled back in her seat.
“Why did you stand up, Ms. Mitchell?”
“I was throwing a runner out.”
“But you’d never done it in the past, why do it that day?”
“My chest guard had gone taut. If I’d stayed on my knees, I wouldn’t have been able to generate enough momentum to throw the ball. So I stood up to generate power from my legs.”
“Do you think Mr. Bristol was trying to cost you the game?”
You’ll lose this game. One way or another.
Frank’s words echoed in her ears. He had been trying to make her lose, but without Bill there, things would go as Razor feared. Her word against Frank’s.
“I’m not sure why he grabbed it, but I knew I had to adjust my position to get the runner out.”
“I see. And did anyone else witness this impediment?”
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Then why did you hit Mr. Bristol in the face?”
“It was an accident.”
“Was it because of his calls during the game?”
“No.”
“Was it because he wouldn’t allow you to coddle your pitcher?”
“Of course not.”
“Or was it because of an earlier altercation?”
Razor dug her nails into her legs and exhaled long and slow. “The altercation had no bearing on what happened on the field.”
“So, you admit it. You had an altercation with my client before the game.”
“Mr. Davis,” Angela spoke up, “any incident between my client and Mr. Bristol prior to the one in question is irrelevant.”
He looked torn for a second, then said, “I will allow the question.”
Razor was frustrated, but she noticed Angela hid a smirk. What was that about?
“Mr. Davis, I have it on good authority that Ms. Mitchell had a hostile encounter with my client prior to the competition, during which Ms. Mitchell attacked Mr. Bristol unprovoked. Thankfully, my client was able to retreat uninjured, only to be attacked later.”
“I did not attack him,” Razor growled. “He made derogatory comments that were sexual in nature to me…”
“Did his comments make you angry?”
“Yes, but—”
“Thank you, Ms. Mitchell. No further questions.”
Ms. Hill slammed her portfolio closed and sat down with a neutral expression on her face. Razor clasped her hands and closed her eyes. That couldn’t have gone any worse.
* * *
Ashton’s stomach was in knots as she made another turn.
“You should sit down,” Courtney said.
“I can’t. At least this way I feel I’m staying busy.”
Courtney smiled in understanding and looked at her watch.
“Any word from Summer?”
“No.” Ashton sighed. “I’m worried.” She turned, ready to make another lap. Courtney glared at her, daring her to cross in front of her again. Ashton surrendered and slumped in the adjoining seat and rubbed her hands together. “I wish I’d been there for her.”
Courtney narrowed her eyes. “You were there for her.”
“Not now. I mean back in San Diego.”
Courtney put her hands on Ashton’s shoulders and turned her so they were facing each other. “It’s not your fault what happened with Gary. And who’s to say that you knowing would’ve made a difference? He was protected by some very powerful people who gained a lot by keeping his secret.”
Ashton saw a fire in Courtney’s eyes. She’d never seen that level of rage before.
“The important thing is you’re here now,” Courtney continued. “Your willingness to fight for her gave her the strength to do this. And…it did the same for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to sit back and wait for this to happen again. To my players, my coaches, my friends. I want to be proactive, not reactive all the time.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“I don’t know yet.” She looked at Ashton with a warm smile. “But I’d love for you to help me figure it out.”
Emotion lodged in Ashton’s throat. “I’d be honored.”
They hugged briefly, then Courtney pointed behind her. She turned and felt a big sense of relief when Summer and Harper rushed toward her. Her heart sank, though, when their expressions looked grim.
“Oh no. What happened?”
Summer caught her breath and said, “We got out there and were all set to leave when one of my dad’s cows went into labor.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Afraid so,” Harper replied. “We were loading up the truck when one of his crew ran up and told him. They called the vet, but Bill said he needed to stay in case anything went wrong.”
“How long ago was that?”
“About half an hour.”
“But he did say once the vet gave the okay, he’d be on his way,” Summer said.
Ashton sat back down, feeling lightheaded.
“Well, let’s hope he likes to drive fast.”
She placed her head between her legs and breathed steadily, then sent up a silent prayer for Bill to arrive in time. Razor’s future depended on it.
* * *
After Ms. Hill concluded her questioning, Matt Davis gave Frank a chance to tell his side of the story.
Razor bit her tongue as he spun a tale of woe of how she nearly assaulted him in the parking lot and argued every pitch with him during the game.
By the time he finished, Razor didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
In the end, she hung her head and waited for the inevitable.
“Ms. Hernandez, you may ask your questions.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davis.”
Razor’s eyes widened when she pulled out a thick folder.
“Mr. Bristol, do you talk to the players or the other umpires during games?”
Frank glared at Razor.
“I’m polite to all the players, and I converse with the other umpires in the name of true sportsmanship.”
Angela nodded as she flipped open the folder.
“So, you’ve never said anything derogatory or inappropriate during a game?”
“I would never do that. I’m a gentleman and a professional.”
“Hmm, a gentleman and a professional,” Angela mumbled and pulled out an inch-thick stack of formal-looking documents. “Then why were you heard saying something to the effect of If you’d taken my offer, I’d have turned you straight in two seconds in the top of the third inning?”
“I said no such thing!”
Angela flipped to the second page.
“According to Lola Hernandez, a player on the Morrilton softball team—the opponent on the day of the incident—she overheard you say I would turn you in two seconds. That doesn’t sound like you were being gentlemanly.”
“I don’t care what that little girl thinks she heard, I didn’t say that.”
Angela flipped to the next page. “Well, then how about in the fifth inning?”
“What about it?”
“In the fifth inning, Grace Butler heard you call Ms. Mitchell a dyke bitch and threatened to show her what she’s missing after the game.”
Frank fidgeted in his seat.
“She’s lying, too.”
“Well, if they’re lying, then you’re going to really hate what Charlie Myers has to say.”
The color drained from Frank’s face.
“Who is Charlie Myers?” Ms. Hill asked.
“The first base umpire during the game in question,” Angela said. “He states that during the changeover between the third and fourth innings, Mr. Bristol seemed very upset about Ms. Mitchell and said he’d make sure—and I quote—her ass would be tossed from the game, no matter how nice it was.”
The room fell silent. Ms. Hill remained stoic, but Razor caught her eyes shift to Frank. She looked unpleased. Everyone else looked stunned.
“Ms. Hernandez, what are those papers you keep reading from?” Mr. Davis asked.
Angela placed them back into the folder and slid it over to him.
“These are signed affidavits compiled by myself and my staff.”
Razor smiled at the word staff.
“As you can see, each one is a sworn statement about what numerous witnesses saw and heard during the game. What they show is how Mr. Bristol systematically tried to provoke Ms. Mitchell into an altercation.”
“I had no reason to do such a thing,” Frank grumbled.
“Is that so? Hmm.” Angela stood and carried a DVD over to the media player Ms. Hill used earlier. “You claim your interaction earlier that day was just a simple misunderstanding, and Ms. Mitchell was the one who had a problem. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“Want to stick with that story?”
Frank nodded. Sabrina pressed play.
Gasps and groans went up around the room as everyone watched how Razor attempted to walk away, but it was Frank who went after her, making it necessary for her to push him away.
Frank sank lower into his chair while Angela smiled.
Razor couldn’t watch, so she turned away and met the concerned gaze of the university president.
“I must say, Ms. Hernandez, I’m impressed. You’ve done your due diligence,” Ms. Hill said, and her compliment sounded genuine. “However, all you have done is proved motive for your client.”
Angela calmly laid down the remote and returned to stand behind Razor.