Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Anger is a complexed set of emotions.
The kind of anger that makes you calm. This is the kind of anger that makes you calculate.
It thrusts you five steps ahead of the situation, and really makes you think before you react.
This must be the kind of anger that makes people spend months plotting a murder instead of just outright doing it.
He shot her.
Accidentally or not, he fucking shot her, his own daughter. Lauren was lying in a hospital bed somewhere, breathing through a machine, not because of my father, but because of her own.
The truth of the matter was, Silas deserved to be in prison for any one of his crimes over the last thirty plus years.
But today, Silas, ironic as can be, was behind bars for the one thing he actually did not do.
And me—I was being strong-armed into taking the witness stand for a two-year investigation that had nothing to do with Lauren, in order to save her life.
Her life that her own father had put on the line.
I was calm.
I was so angry that I was calm.
Pulling into the parking lot of the Miami-Dade courthouse, I was met with a swarm of photographers. The walk to the building was a trying one. But the flashing of cameras accompanied by the shouting of questions meant to anger me rolled off my shoulders.
“Is it true you helped your father capture and kill Joshua Caplan’s daughter?”
“Kain, are you here to sell your father out in order to clear your own name after what happened to Lauren Caplan?”
“Did you convince Lauren to run away from home?”
“Are you taking the stand against your father today in an effort to win Lauren back?”
“What do you say to the allegations Luxana Petit has lodged against you to the press?”
Every single one of their questions went ignored, as I offered no reaction to the inflammatory statements.
Climbing the steps up to the main entrance was almost done in a haze.
I could hear the reporters on either side of my face trying their hardest to incite me, but at the same time, I couldn’t hear them at all.
The energy it would take to let them get the best of me—I was saving that.
Upon passing through the security check-in in the courthouse’s main lobby, it was seconds before I was shuffled into a private back room. She said her name was Violet—or Veronica—something with a V. I was only half listening to her briefing when I interrupted.
“Caplan.” She stopped talking. “Where is he?”
“I just said that he was about to begin his opening arguments. He’s going to address the jury, and when you’re needed, you’ll be called in.
” To the skeptical crease forming between my brows, she explained even further.
“Mr. Caplan thought it would be best if you didn’t sit in on the hearing until it was time for you to testify.
Your father can be pretty intimidating and he didn’t want non-verbal cues from him to change your mind, or sway your answers. ”
For two years, Joshua Caplan had been extensively investigating Silas’ involvement in a New Year’s multi-murder that resulted in the deaths of some men who were known to be longtime enemies.
Did Silas do it? Of course he did. Did I have proof?
Sure. Was I going to help Joshua Caplan take him down for it?
Fuck that.
The room I was in was presumably behind the trial room the case was being tried in.
If I focused hard enough, I could almost make out the sounds of Lauren’s father presenting monologues and calling up expert witnesses who could analyze the crime scene and weapons ballistics.
I was being watched like a criminal in this room, the court aide hardly seemed to be blinking as she stared suspiciously in my direction.
How do you best a man like Joshua Caplan?
An earlier version of myself would learn what I know now, and immediately start cracking my knuckles.
But that wasn’t thinking smart. Knowing the kind of man Joshua Caplan was, he’d live for that kind of spectacle.
No, to best a man like Joshua Caplan, I would need to hit him where it hurts.
And that, I had already gathered, was not going to be a physical blow.
“Mr. Montgomery, they’re ready for you now.”
The trial room was made of wood on every surface, polished browns reflecting back at me like an old fashioned scene straight out of those 90s TV dramas.
Stepping into the room created a hush among the invited spectators and jury.
Caplan waited until I was seated at the raised, closed in the seat beside the judge.
My eyes scanned my surroundings, landing on the name plate of a staunch Cuban judge.
Rodrigo Lopez, it read, positioned in front of the poker faced, middle aged man.
Caplan introduced me to the jury, careful to lay emphasis on my last name and then let them know I was Silas’ only son.
My eyes cut away from Judge Lopez’s nameplate and for the first time since entering the room, I looked at my father.
It appeared as though they hadn’t let him change out of his prison uniform, the jumpsuit shining bright orange among the grays and blacks worn by just about everyone else.
For me, Silas saved the most hateful of glares.
At least, what he could muster convincingly enough to be seen as hate.
I knew my father well. He would never hate me.
Was he angry I was testifying? Hell fucking yes.
But one look at him and I knew that, more than anything, my being here hurt him more. This was betrayal in the worst way.
Caplan nodded for his bailiff to bring and hold out a hardcover, black bible out in front of me.
I knew damn well that I had no intention of telling the truth this morning.
The Bible was held out in front of me, and what little left of me that still believed in God felt certain that I would be forgiven for what I was about to do.
With my hand on the Holy Book, looking away from Silas, I pledged the oath.
“I, Kain Tariq Montgomery, swear that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
Joshua Caplan cleared his throat, walking up to my booth.
He eyed me with a heightened level of caution, which bothered me.
Who was the real monster here? It wasn't like I was willing to stoop so low as to threaten to kill my own daughter in the name of winning a case. And for what? Is the honor even worth it if that’s how low you have to go to get it?
I kept my expression neutral, understanding that I was going to have to do this believably, and if I lied on the stand with a trace of anger on my face, out went my credibility.
“Mr. Montgomery,” Caplan began his questioning, keeping eye contact as he paced about the room. “Would you agree with the statement that your father, Silas Montgomery, is a dangerous man?”
“Dangerous?” I feigned ignorance, keeping my eyes on Caplan long enough to see his brows dip at the unexpected response. “Dangerous seems a bit dramatic.”
“What would you call it then?”
“Dad is…” I pretended to think about it, shaking my head and ultimately saying, “I admit that he can be somewhat of a hardass, but I’d wager to say most dads are.”
“A hardass?”
I shrugged.
“Dad can be… he can be strict. You know the deal—do your homework, go to college, get a good job." Silas never encouraged me to do any of that shit.
“Mr. Montgomery, you do realize your father is on trial for three counts of murder, correct?”
“I realize those are the charges, yeah.” I nodded casually. “But you asked me if I thought he was dangerous. Short answer—no.”
Caplan’s eyebrow twitched very slightly, the only sign of his discomfort. His star witness was not playing ball. As if the room had suddenly grown warmer, he pulled at the collar of his white dress shirt.
“Mr. Montgomery, you say your father encouraged you to get a good job. Isn’t that a little hard to believe considering he transferred over a billion dollars worth of his assets over to you three years ago, when you turned eighteen?”
“That’s more of an opinion, if you ask me,” I answered back.
“Did he or did he not transfer his assets?”
“He did.”
“Ladies and gentleman of the jury, let the record show that the investigation into these murders coincides with Silas Montgomery’s decision to transfer all of his assets to his young son.
Over a billion dollars handed over to one child.
Was that insurance just in case he lost this case?
Was Silas trying to make sure his assets weren’t frozen in the event that he was put away?
I shook my head, matching his theatrics when I replied, “Ladies and gentleman of the jury, let the record show my father was battlin’ with complications brought on by his rising blood pressure three years ago.
There are medical records to prove it. Yes, transferring his assets to me was insurance, but only because he felt like he didn’t have much time left. ”
I was lying effortlessly.
“Yes or no—are you aware that the investigation into your father had begun around that time as well?”
“He’s a black billionaire. Someone is always investigating him.”
Caplan’s patience was wearing thin. He was getting nothing useful out of me.
I could see him very poorly trying to keep his temper in check.
In his seat, Silas leaned forward like a person watching a movie that just got good.
Caplan cleared his throat, walking closer to my podium for his next question.
“What do you say to accusations that your father uses his clubs to launder drug and prostitution money?”
“You said it yourself. He doesn’t own them; I do. So is this relevant?”
Caplan lost some of his nerve and shot me the question, “Do you use your clubs to launder drug and prostitution money?”