Chapter Twenty-Three
Crawford County Courthouse
Nate sat in the driver’s seat of his truck, Sam in the passenger seat next to him. He’d pushed the truck into park, even turned the ignition off, but neither of them had gotten out of the truck yet.
Today was the day.
Mr. Vanderbilt’s plan was to start the family testimony with Nate recounting Dad losing it on him and beating the shit out of him after Mom’s funeral. Sam would go next—to corroborate that story, as well as give her own experience with fifteen years of investigating.
If they got through the cross-examination for both today, Landon would be called up, then Aly.
Vanderbilt would lead them through what led them to change their minds about Ben.
No doubt the cross-examination would harp on the fact Landon and Aly had been staunch supporters of Dad, but Vanderbilt believed the jury would see the evidence and Cal’s memory changing their mind as a good reason for them to believe both.
Cal would be last, and they probably wouldn’t get to him today. Vanderbilt wanted to spend the most time there and then follow it with an array of experts meant to support Cal’s traumatic amnesia.
Vanderbilt was hoping to rest by the end of the week.
Nate dreaded all of it. But if they got through this week, the rest had to be cake. Didn’t it?
Of course, there was still the Bo Lake brand-new-brother problem. Sam had checked in with Bo once, and he’d said he needed some time to sort through everything, but assured Sam he’d be there Saturday to clean again.
It gave Nate a week of not having to deal with Bo or what he represented, but Nate felt … guilty taking it. Torn. Because he didn’t know why Glenda would lie. It served no one, and Glenda might be a little out there, but she wasn’t evil.
So, they had a brother. Who their mother had saved. While Landon, Cal, and Nate had suffered. In so many different ways. Before and after Mom had died.
They hadn’t talked about it—no shocker there. Not him and his brothers. Not him and Sam. They would eventually. Nate would have to bring it up eventually, but so many things felt like an after the trial problem.
Because no matter how he sliced it, maybe Mom had saved one son over the other three, but she wouldn’t have had to try to save any of them if not for Dad.
So Benjamin Bennet needed to be put away. The end.
Everything else could be dealt with after that.
“Better get out there,” he muttered, finally pushing out of his side of the truck. Sam followed suit. She didn’t say anything, but she wound her arm around his waist, leaned against him as they walked. A unit.
“If we survive this,” she said. “I’ll make dinner tonight and we can see if we survive that.”
He smiled in spite of himself. He knew she wasn’t kicking him out of her place every now and again because of everything that was going on. Sometimes, he thought he should offer. Give her space one of these nights.
But he never did. And she never insisted. Maybe it was better to just ride that until this was over. Someday it would be, no matter how interminable it felt.
Landon had texted that he was already inside with Cal and Aly, so Nate led Sam toward the courtroom, but before they could enter, someone called Sam’s name.
Hayes came up from behind them. He held a piece of paper out to Sam. “I got an ID on your guy.”
“Anybody we know?” Sam asked, taking the paper Hayes offered her.
“Not to my knowledge. He’s a PI out of Wisconsin. Explains the following you, maybe even the breaking in.”
“Good PIs don’t break and enter, Jake,” Sam said a little irritably.
But Nate’s focus was on the paper in her hand, because while there was nothing particularly interesting on the background of this guy, there was one very concerning piece of information.
He was from Wisconsin.
Bo Lake was from Wisconsin.
“He hasn’t been following me lately,” Sam said to Hayes. “We’ve been watching.”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen him. Maybe it was a one-off.”
But with Wisconsin? Nate didn’t think so.
“Thanks for the update, Jake. You need this back?”
“Keep it. Let me know if you see him again though.”
“I will.”
Jake strode into the courtroom, but Sam stayed where she was so Nate did too. She was frowning at the paper.
“I couldn’t find any connection between the cousin and Ben. But … what if I find a connection between the PI and the cousin? Since we already know the PI has a connection to Ben’s lawyer.”
“It’s worth looking into.”
Sam nodded and sighed, then she folded the paper in half and shoved it into her purse. “I guess that has to wait.” She lifted her gaze to his.
She reached out and straightened his tie, brushed lint off his lapels, then cupped his face with her hands. “You’re going to do great.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
She reached up on her toes, pulled his head down, pressed a firm kiss to his mouth, then rubbed off any lipstick she smudged off on him. Then she took his hand and led him inside.
He knew, even if he hadn’t crossed that friendship line, Sam would have been here for him.
But he also knew, something about whatever they were seeing where it went added a steadiness to his ability to handle this he wouldn’t have felt otherwise.
She was like an anchor or a foundation. When he felt unsteady, or like he’d float away, maybe even run away like he had fifteen years ago, she was there to hold him in place.
To remind him it wasn’t all bad, even if it felt that way in the interim.
They took the seats Landon had saved for them. A unit. A family. Maybe there were always new secrets lurking in the shadows, and God, it was fucking exhausting, but it hadn’t stopped them from … living.
It didn’t take long for Nate to be called up to the stand, to be sworn in.
He answered Vanderbilt’s questions with ease. Nate had no trouble remembering that day. It lived in his brain, perfectly detailed. He could picture it all, feel it all—both physical and emotional pain.
For years, he’d cursed that perfect memory. Today, he was going to be proud of it.
He was going to use it to bury Benjamin Bennet.
He recounted every blow. Every injury. And he looked right at his father while he did it.
Ben was growing more agitated, though clearly trying to keep it hidden. But Nate saw it. Just like he’d seen it that day.
Hate. Pure, unadulterated hate.
Nate would never know what had warped his father to hate and hurt the people he should have loved. Maybe there was a story there—his own traumas.
Or maybe he’d been born that way. Warped and just rotten. Nate didn’t know which he preferred. He supposed it didn’t matter. He had no interest in a villain’s origin story.
When it was time to be cross-examined, Nate refused to let nerves find purchase. He’d fought in wars. He could handle an asshole lawyer asking him annoying questions.
“So, to be clear, your father never beat you, never laid a hand on you in violence, except the afternoon of his wife’s funeral?”
The question grated, as it was meant to, because it was setup to undermine everything. Still, Nate wouldn’t lie. “That’s correct. Just the afternoon of my mother’s funeral.” A reminder that Benjamin didn’t exist in a vacuum. Being upset didn’t give him a right to ruin his children.
“A simple yes or no will suffice, Mr. Bennet. Now, after you ran away, you never once tried to contact your father or your brothers until May of this year. Fifteen years after your mother’s death. Is that correct?”
Nate did his level best not to let any of the belligerence he felt show on his face. “Yes.”
The lawyer smiled. “No further questions.”
God, Nate wanted to clock the guy, but instead he stepped down from the stand. Without meaning to, he looked at Dad.
Benjamin wasn’t smiling, but his mouth was arranged in a little bit of a smirk. But that smirk died as Sam was called to the stand.
Good was all Nate could think.
Sam was sworn in. She answered Vanderbilt’s questions with a grace and poise that impressed Nate.
And evaporated once the defense attorney started.
“You were a young woman. Are you sure you aren’t exaggerating your memory of Mr. Bennet’s injuries?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Weird how some kid getting the shit kicked out of him by his dad sticks with you, no matter how young you are.”
“I’d like the court to remind Ms. Price that she only needs to answer yes or no. Everything else should be stricken from the record.”
But she didn’t listen. Often offering a scathing comment to go along with her answer to a question. She was warned by the judge, twice. It wasn’t funny, but there was something about the fire, the passion … maybe the jury wouldn’t see it the way he did, but he had to hope they could.
Sam had lived in this case for fifteen years. She knew every inch of it. The defense attorney tried to nudge her into a corner, but she was too solid. Yes, belligerent, but smart with it.
When she returned to the seat next to him, she was scowling. He took her hand, curled his around it, and she let out a slow breath, some of that fury fading.
When Landon took the stand, it became clear what the defense would try to do. Undercut Nate’s and Sam’s testimonies from yesterday with the people who’d supported Ben.
Not a surprise in and of itself, but what was a surprise was how much it hurt. How every pointed question didn’t have him questioning whether he’d been harmed but had him questioning if it would ever matter.
Every cross-examination question was designed to discount Nate’s story of abuse by repetitively bringing home the fact it had only been him, and only once. In a moment of great emotional turmoil—like that excused it.
When Landon shared his memory of Mom having a black eye, the defense attorney undercut it, since Mom hadn’t admitted to being beaten. There were no police records of domestic abuse—for Nate or Mom.
Nate knew that it was possible the jury saw things for what they were, not what the defense was trying to twist. But he also knew there were holes in his and Landon’s stories, and then even Aly’s story.