27. Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
T he anticipation was finally over.
Carson and her client, Jacob, sat in the courtroom as her opponent, Charles Patchett, rattled off his last questions to his client, currently on the stand.
“Now, Tiffany,” Charles said, “the Petitioner, Jacob Phillips, alleges that your daughter has witnessed you and your boyfriend smoking marijuana on your couch. Do you own a couch?”
The witness leaned forward and spoke into the microphone, her voice sounding as if she gargled gravel before the trial. “No, I don’t.”
“Do you own a futon?”
“No.”
“Loveseat? Sectional?”
“No and no.”
“What about a chair, bench, ottoman, or anything that could possibly resemble a couch? Do you own anything like that?”
“No, I do not. I haven’t been able to afford one yet.”
“So, there is no way for your daughter to have witnessed you and your boyfriend smoking marijuana on the couch while in your custody?”
“No, sir. ”
“If there is no couch in your home, why do you think your daughter would tell her dad she saw this?”
“Objection, your honor,” Carson interrupted before the witness could answer. “Calls for speculation.”
“Sustained,” Judge Halliday granted. “Next question, Counsel.”
Charles peered down at his notes, scratched lazily onto a yellow legal notepad, then back up to the judge.
“No further questions, Your Honor,” he said before turning to Carson and giving her a smug face. It was unprofessional and childish, but it didn’t bother her because she had a wild card up her sleeve.
Judge Halliday took off her reading glasses and motioned to Carson. “Ms. West, your witness for redirect.”
“Thank you, Judge.” She grabbed the microphone and moved it closer to her, excited to finally present her biggest piece of evidence. “I only have one question for you, Ms. Phillips, and it should be an easy one. Does your boyfriend have a couch at his apartment?”
Tiffany’s eyes grew big, darting between her attorney and Carson. From where she was sitting, Carson could see the gulp travel down Tiffany’s thick throat.
It was satisfying seeing the witness squirm. Thanks to her dream about the couch, Carson had caught Tiffany. Their daughter had been restricted from going to the boyfriend’s apartment.
“Please answer the question, Ms. Phillips,” the judge ordered.
“Yes, he does.” The confidence in Tiffany’s voice was long gone.
“I have no other questions for the witness, Judge,” Carson finished, throwing back the smug look to her competitor across the aisle. She was allowed to be childish sometimes too.
Wailing sirens sounded from outside the marble walls of the courthouse. Everyone waited for them to grow quiet, but they continued, loud and close. Even Judge Halliday tilted her ear to the window behind her. Then she cleared her throat. “Let’s focus back on this case. Counsel, your closing arguments.”
Charles adjusted his wide tie, one probably bought by his wife. His closing argument was long and boring. Evidently, the judge was not entertained, as her focus was on the computer sitting on the bench. At least the muted sirens outside made for some sort of excitement.
Then it was Carson’s turn. She always stood for her closing argument. Jacob tried to stand up too. Subtly, she motioned for him to stay where he was at.
“Judge, you heard the evidence today. I have nothing to add,” she said. Garrett had taught her that closing arguments were for juries. He would say, “Presenting a closing argument to a judge is like explaining how a rocket works to a rocket scientist.”
The hearing was adjourned, and Judge Halliday retired to her chambers.
“Do you think it went well?” Jacob whispered as Carson shoved the binder and file into her briefcase.
“I think it went as well as it could have,” she said. “We’ll have to wait for the judge’s ruling now.”
Internally, Carson believed it went very well. Especially for her first family law case. What she wanted to say was that the trial went almost perfectly in their favor. She couldn’t wait to tell Garrett at the office. Junior partner seemed like it was getting closer and closer.
“Right.” Her client stood, then jerked his chin toward the window where the sirens were still droning. “I wonder what happened.”
“Probably a car accident,” Carson guessed, slipping the briefcase strap on her shoulder .
A fresh blanket of snow greeted them outside. Large snowflakes floated from the gray sky like little feathers. The sirens were far away now, but a commotion was coming from the north. Horns blaring. Shouting. Glass breaking.
Carson quickly descended the courthouse steps, only slipping once in her heels and catching herself on the railing. Her client was following close behind. She saw the smoke before she saw the fire. Thick and gruesome it billowed from the atrium mall, The Village, across the street. The blazing flames licked at the windows. One, two, three fire trucks were there, lights spinning. Their hoses looked like snakes slithering all over the ground.
Police were holding the crowds back, attempting to secure the street. The shouts, the gushing of fire hoses, the roaring of the fire was chaotic and overwhelming. It was impossible to process what was happening before her.
Through a break in the mass of people, Carson caught a glimpse of one of the fire trucks: Engine 71. She recognized the huge, golden numbers, and worry began swirling within her.
“I’ve got to go,” she shouted at Jacob before pushing her way toward the blockade. Her hands gripped the icy wood as she strained to see Jax. The heat from the blaze warmed her cold face.
A familiar face appeared from around one of the trucks.
“Hunter!” Carson yelled, waving her hand. “Hunter!”
It took a moment for him to notice her, his eyes looking out over the crowd. Once he recognized who was calling out to him, he glanced at the burning building, then hustled over to the barricade. Sweat was trickling from his helmet and down his freckled face. She wondered if Raegan knew what was happening.
“How bad?” she asked .
“Bad,” he said, his tone serious. Fun-loving Hunter was gone, replaced with on-duty Hunter. “We believe it was a gas leak.”
Gasping, Carson thought about all of the people in the building, wondering if there were any casualties. She examined the flames that had completely taken over the roof. “Gas leak. Doesn’t that mean there could be an explosion?”
When Hunter nodded, the flames reflected off his helmet’s clear visor. “That’s exactly why we’re trying to keep the crowd back as far as possible. Which means you need to clear the area too.”
“Wait, what about Jax? Is he here too?”
Hunter was looking up at the building. When he met her stare, he hesitated for a moment too long, causing her stomach to seize.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Jax?”
“The roof collapsed. Everyone got out, but—”
“He’s still in there,” Carson finished for him, feeling the blood drain from her face and fear encase her heart. Ducking under the barricade she stepped toward the building, wringing the strap of her briefcase between her hands.
“Carson.” Hunter grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. Then he gripped her other shoulder, determined to keep her put. The fire now heated her back. “The collapse just happened. He’s only been in there for a couple of minutes. The team is ready to go back in. We’re just waiting for the final command from the chief. Which should be any second now. They’re going to find him, and he’s going to be alright. We have to trust the process.”
It seemed Hunter was saying the last part more to himself than to her.
Something caught his attention, and he peered over her head. “I need to go. They’ll find him and get him.” His voice didn’t sound reassuring. “ Now get out of here. I need you safe.”
He must have trusted that Carson would leave on her own, because he stepped past her and joined some of the crew huddled together, deep in discussion.
The inferno continued to snarl above her. Jax was just beyond those walls, stuck or worse. A tremor rolled through her body at the thought.
Taking a step forward toward the circle of fire personnel, Carson assumed they had the power to send in the rescue team for Jax. Straining to listen, she could only catch occasional words and phrases. It seemed the general consensus was to send rescuers in immediately. She breathed a sigh of relief.
A deafening eruption came from the adjoining building. Exploding glass showered the bystanders and first responders as shrieks and cries rang out. Terrified, Carson stood from her reactive crouch and shook pieces of glass from her hair, frantically focusing back on the rescue crew who were drawing further and further from the entrance, retreating to safety.
Was it too dangerous to go back in? Were they aborting the rescue?
Then Hunter began stomping toward the entrance. A couple of firefighters grabbed his shoulders, holding him back. He tried to shake them off until a burly man stepped in front of him. Carson recognized him as Bardot, the battalion chief she met at Station 71. His face was red, and he was shoving a massive finger into Hunter’s chest, who was scowling and deflating by the second. She couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but the chief was clearly ordering him to stand down.
It looked as though they weren’t going back for Jax. That had to be why Hunter was fighting to disobey the orders.
Carson wasn’t going to let that happen.
Eyeing the entrance, she saw that only a stream of white smoke was spiraling out. Maybe most of the fire was on the roof and the top floor. If she could sneak in and get a quick look around, she could come back and tell them it was safe. Maybe, with some luck, she could find Jax.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Carson crept backward and managed to scoot behind one of the engines, void of prying eyes. A compartment had been left open, displaying two spare turnout coats. Dropping her bag, she snatched a coat from its hook, surprised at how heavy it was, and folded it over her arm to make it less conspicuous. Then she opened and rummaged around a second compartment. Which was pointless because she had no idea what she was looking at, let alone how to use the equipment in front of her. The jacket would have to do.
Was she crazy? Yes. Brainless? Duh. But she was determined to do something. She couldn’t let anything bad happen to Jax. When Luke and her child were killed, there was nothing Carson could have done. Now she had an opportunity to save a loved one. And she had to act fast.
Scurrying around the vehicles, she inched closer to the entrance of the mall. The beating in her chest was so hard, it was beginning to hurt. Even her nerves started to singe and fray, and a rock had invaded her stomach. Was she really about to do this?
You’re running out of time. Jax is running out of time. Don’t think, just do .
Sirens blared from additional emergency vehicles that were arriving, temporarily distracting the crew. This was her chance. Now or never.
With one last look at the courthouse and its beautiful stone architecture, Carson boldly entered the burning building.