Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
VIOLET
W here the hell is my attorney?
I had just sat down at my seat in the courtroom. It was 8:58 a.m., two minutes before the start of day four of the trial. Katrina and I usually met in the lobby and walked into the courtroom together. But I hadn’t heard a peep, neither had I seen hide nor hair of her that morning.
She was a beacon of professionalism, which made it hard to imagine where she might be. When the judge entered the courtroom from her chambers a minute after I arrived, I felt on the verge of panic. If she didn’t show, what was I supposed to do? Would we get in trouble with the judge? Would I be called on to speak on my own behalf? I checked my phone—no messages—then craned my neck to look behind me. Things would go to hell unless Katrina walked into the courtroom this minute. I closed my eyes in relief as she did.
“In the case of LaRue vs. DCH Mutual, I call this court to order.” This time, the judge was at least a woman. She was senior in her career—gray-haired and every bit as cranky as judges were rumored to be. I supposed you had a right to be when you’d seen enough bullshit. There was enough coming from the defense to fill a truck.
“We will continue with the testimony of DCH Mutual,” Judge Lassiter proclaimed.
“Defense, you may call your next witness.”
It had taken Katrina two days to present my entire case; she’d covered the original elements more quickly than she had the first time. Now, she’d dug into the new evidence. Not only had DCH been ordered to pay out on the claim by two other courts in two separate states, they had been litigated against in fourteen other cases over the same issue. To boot, they’d failed to clarify their policy language since my original trial.
After Katrina rested, the insurance company had begun to make its case. The way they looked at me and talked about me—the poor widow—made me sick. It was patronizing and false. The way they tried to convince the jury in their opening remarks that they empathized with our plight; the way they pretended their hands were tied—that they owed it to their shareholders to adhere to the letter of each policy; the way they tried to shunt the responsibility off to the State of Tennessee, who they said “should have taken out special policies” for firefighters put on out-of-state relief crews.
The one thing I had going for me was that all my friends had shown up. Jules, Tatum, and Nikki literally had my back. So did Sierra and Loretta, the latter of who had called in Buck’s mother to watch her twins all week. Every member of the Green Valley Fire Department who wasn’t sleeping or on duty had shown up for the trial. Firefighters who had known Todd but now worked at other houses had shown up to the trial, too. The first day I’d seen all of them, I hadn’t been able to contain my emotions. I couldn’t help it. I’d burst into tears.
Almost all of them.
That was the other hard thing about the trial. So many people were with me, but not the two people who had loved Todd the most. Forrest and Chase were suspiciously absent, off working on their mysterious project Chase wouldn’t tell me anything about.
Not that I hadn’t asked him. I most certainly had. He’d been infuriatingly vague, which only underscored the conclusion I’d come to. Chase was back in the fire service—truly back inside.
Sure, he would return to Tennessee, but it would only be a matter of time before we had to have the talk. The one where I admitted to him the feelings I’d struggled with for longer than he would ever imagine; the one where I’d tell him I loved him, but that I had to let him go.
One of the DCH attorneys stood. “Your Honor, the defense rests.”
I looked over at Katrina, whose abrupt arrival had her a bit out of breath. She was too busy unpacking her briefcase to regard me back. She had told me after yesterday’s proceedings that this was the best possible scenario. The defense was second to present their case and their last scheduled witness had spoken yesterday afternoon. It meant we’d be likely to have a decision today.
Judge Lassiter turned to the jury, who I also hoped would be better than the first. This one had better representation. There were two more parents than we had last time, which boded well for my side of things. At the beginning of the trial, the judge had given them a brief speech about their duty to consider only the evidence and nothing more. At this moment, she simply said, “Now, you may begin your deliberations.”
“Excuse me, Your Honor.” Katrina stood. “I received word just minutes ago that new evidence has come to light. I would like to enter it into the record. I would also like to call an expert witness to the stand.”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Opposing counsel stood back up not a second after he’d sat down. “The defense requests rediscovery. We haven’t had time to review the evidence or prepare our defense.”
“Your Honor,” Katrina cut in before the judge could respond. “Neither me nor my client has conferred with this witness or received information about their testimony. We would also be coming in without knowledge of what they might present.”
For the first time since the proceedings had started, the judge’s eyes brightened.
“And may I ask, Miss Stephens, why you would call a witness without first gaining an understanding of whether their testimony will help your case?”
Katrina lifted her chin. “Because this witness is highly qualified, and has presented recently declassified information. And because my client’s goal is to get to the truth.”
The judge leaned back in her chair and thought about it for a minute. It explained where Katrina had been. Her investigator had obviously turned something up. I kept my eyes on the judge, whose gaze shifted from me, to the defense attorneys, then back to me. She steepled her fingers in front of her face and thought it through for a long moment before finally saying, “I’ll allow it.”
Katrina smiled. “Thank you, Your Honor. The defense calls Chase Noble Greenleaf to the stand.”
Faster than a speeding bullet, my head whipped back around. Every ounce of composure I had mustered to make it through the trial flew out the window. Sure enough, there was Chase, striding down the middle aisle in a sleek blue suit. His hair was combed back and his beard was trimmed. He was nothing like the man who made cinnamon rolls and held tissues up to my children’s snotty noses. He was nothing like the Chase who visited the barn to cuddle his dog. This Chase carried an unmistakable air of gravitas and looked like an expert witness with the federal government.
I was still wide-eyed with shock when he stepped onto the stand—still agog as the bailiff swore him in. The next thing I knew, he had taken a seat and was looking at Katrina.
“Please state your name and occupation for the record,” she began.
“Chase Noble Greenleaf. My primary occupation is as a peach farmer, and a chef. I’m the owner of Noble Farms and proprietor of a seasonal supper club.”
“And have you always been a farmer, Mr. Greenleaf?”
“Yes, in the sense that I grew up in the orchards helping my momma. But farming wasn’t my initial profession.”
“And what was your initial profession?”
“I was a firefighter with the Green Valley Fire Department in Tennessee and later with the National Forestry Service.”
“How long were you a firefighter, Mr. Greenleaf?”
“I worked in the fire service for nine years. I graduated with honors from the fire academy, started as a probationary firefighter, and worked my way up to battalion chief.”
I was captivated despite my intimate knowledge of the answers to all his questions. Chase was utterly poised—calm-spoken and credible, well-mannered and polite. I shifted my gaze to the jury, who, just minutes earlier, had seemed worn out from days of testimony. Now, with Chase on the stand, they were notably altered. Suddenly, they seemed interested, and engaged.
“Was it common for a man of your age and experience to become a battalion chief?”
“No, ma’am,” he answered. “I was one of the youngest in the National Forestry Service.”
“You must have been good at your job.”
It wasn’t a question, but Chase spoke to it. “The federal government entrusted me with protecting some of the most treasured lands in this country. I took that very seriously.”
“Thank you, Mr. Greenleaf.” Katrina turned to me briefly, then back to Chase.
“I also want to establish your personal connection to this case. Isn’t it true that you were present for previous court proceedings?”
“Yes, ma’am. It is.” Chase nodded, his expression becoming somewhat grave.
“Can you describe the nature of your connection to the case?”
“I was on the scene on the day of the fire. Todd LaRue and I were sent from Tennessee as part of the same relief crew. That was the day I lost my best friend.”
It pained me to see the anguish on his face. Talking about that day was something he usually avoided. It begged the question, what was he doing here? How had he been identified as an expert witness? Why was he being called at the last minute? And why the hell hadn’t I known about any of this?
“Can you please tell the court about your relationship with the plaintiff, Violet LaRue?”
Chase looked at me for the first time, his gaze going from anguished to soft.
“After the fire, I suffered badly with post-traumatic stress disorder. Violet and her kids gave me a reason to wake up in the morning. When I quit the department, she came to work with me at Noble Farms. My parents had recently left me the business, but the truth is, I didn’t quite know how to run it. She helped me sort myself out and built a thriving wedding and events business. The supper club I mentioned earlier—it’s called The Noble Pig—that was all Violet’s idea.”
Judge Lassiter shifted her enthralled gaze from Chase to me.
“Impressive,” she murmured with the familiarity of someone who had been to The Noble Pig before. Only when she spoke her praise did I shift to look up at her face. Chase’s gaze had been locked on mine, and mine on his, ever since he’d made his astonishing claims.
“Objection, Your Honor.” The head attorney for opposing counsel was on his feet again. “The witness obviously has a personal relationship with the plaintiff. I move to dismiss him. Mr. Greenleaf can’t be considered both a character witness and an unbiased expert in the case given Ms. LaRue’s standing as a friend and a critical employee.”
The judge looked at Katrina. “Counsel?”
“Your Honor, Ms. LaRue’s character is not on trial here. She needs no character witness given her role as the plaintiff in this case. Additionally, I can establish that Mr. Greenleaf is here in an official capacity.”
“Establish it quickly,” the judge warned before returning her attention to opposing counsel. “Overruled.”
Katrina didn’t miss a single beat. “Mr. Greenleaf, can you please tell this court what additional authority you have to comment on this case?”
Chase nodded. “Five weeks ago, I was personally asked to investigate this case by the United States Secretary of the Interior.”
I audibly gasped, then slapped my hand over my mouth.
“Who else knew about the investigation?” Katrina continued.
“Federal Fire Marshal Forrest Winters, the appointed head of the Special Counsel on Wildlife Prevention. He worked with me directly in investigating the Cranston Fire.”
“The Cranston Fire?”
“The name of the fire that killed Todd LaRue, Chuck Oakley, and Stewart Upshaw.”
“So you didn’t tell my client about the investigation?”
“No, I did not.” He looked at me again. “I told her I was working on a project with Federal Fire Marshal Forrest Winters, but I didn’t tell her it was an investigation. Even if she’d known that much, it wouldn’t have made a difference. The entire project was classified.”
Oh, Chase.
It explained so much. Working so many late nights. All those strange visits to Bandit Lake. Him telling me that even though he was firefighting again, I didn’t have to worry. Now, I knew why he’d kept things from me, and why he’d seemed tired and stressed. He’d had to relive it all.
“Your Honor,” Katrina continued. “I would like to introduce Plaintiff’s Exhibit J, the official findings from the Department of the Interior.”
Katrina approached the bench and handed Judge Lassiter a thick report.
“Your Honor, this report is quite extensive. We agree that opposing counsel should have an opportunity to fully review the report. However, my client views it as critical that certain new evidence come immediately to light. Requesting permission to continue in my questioning of Mr. Greenleaf.”
The judge didn’t look up from the report—which she had already started to page through—when she answered, “Permission granted.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Katrina didn’t return to her questioning until she had handed opposing counsel the same report.
“Mr. Greenleaf, given your knowledge of the case and your involvement in the previous proceedings, can you tell the court what is important about the findings of this exhibit?”
Chase nodded, his face grim again. “The findings contained in this report challenge the originally reported cause of death.”
A soft murmur went up in the courtroom, but I went deadly quiet.
“Mr. Greenleaf, what were the conclusions of earlier findings?” Katrina’s voice softened.
“That the deaths that day were accidental.” Chase said it with some difficulty.
“And the new findings?”
His voice broke on his answer. “Wrongful death.”
The murmur that rose in the courtroom this time was so much louder that the judge banged her gavel and called for order. The part of me that picked up on this felt removed from the rest of me. I had the sensation that I couldn’t move. My gaze was on Chase and his was on mine until I squeezed my eyes shut and the tears began to fall.
“Was a specific party found to be at fault, Mr. Greenleaf?”
All I heard was Chase’s voice. All I felt were the hands of my friends behind me, holding my shoulders.
“Our battalion was deliberately deployed to the wrong fire, a fire that wasn’t a priority because it couldn’t be fought.”
“Couldn’t be fought in what sense?”
“Fires are typically prioritized by the likelihood that they can be contained and the threat they pose to life, limb, and property. The blaze we were fighting the day Todd died was on extremely remote, mostly undeveloped, unincorporated land.”
“You said you were ‘deliberately deployed’ there,” Katrina continued. “Who would want to send you into a fire you couldn’t fight?”
“A corrupt senator who wanted the land on the fire we should have been fighting to burn. He made some calls, pulled some strings with a few people he had in his pocket, and made sure they switched the prioritization. Anyone who questioned it was either lied to or forced into lying down. Thanks to that senator, ten civilians died in the fire that should have been fought and three men from Tennessee died.”
Why didn’t you tell me?
It was the one question that kept running through my mind. Because I’d stopped needing the answer to why. I’d long since learned there would never be a good-enough answer for why Todd was gone. I didn’t care if whatever he was working on was government classified. Chase had gone back and forced himself to relive the most traumatizing day of his life. He should have come to me for support.
“I couldn’t tell you, darlin’.” Chase answered the question I hadn’t thought I’d asked out loud. “I couldn’t talk to you about it at all, not just because I wasn’t supposed to, because I was ashamed. When we reinvestigated, I didn’t know what I might find. The truth is, I was in charge that day. Todd died on my watch. Until me and Forrest found what we found, I always felt like Todd’s dying was my fault.”
Now, I was sobbing. “Is that why you’ve been helping me all these years? Was it all because you felt guilty?”
If so, that would answer a lot—why he was so hell-bent on being everywhere all the time with his charity and not letting me refuse it.
“Objection, Your Honor.” Opposing counsel stood up. “Now the plaintiff herself is questioning the witness?”
“Withdrawn,” Katrina said quickly. “My client will refrain from speaking.”
But when she turned back toward me, she didn’t throw me the expected look of reproach. She gave me a little wink and a sly smile.
“Mr. Greenleaf,” she continued, facing Chase and speaking in an authoritative voice. “Is that why you helped Ms. LaRue all those years? Was it because you felt guilty about Todd LaRue’s death?”
“No, ma’am,” Chase answered in earnest.
“If it wasn’t guilt over feeling you were responsible for her late husband’s death, can you explain your motivation?”
Chase shifted his gaze to look at me, his face full of emotion. He looked like a man about to jump off of a cliff.
“Please answer the question, Mr. Greenleaf.” Katrina’s voice was gentle.
“And please remember—you are under oath.” The judge’s voice was stern, but her face registered interest.
Chase looked back at the judge, then the jury, then at his friends, then finally at me.
“I couldn’t help it. I was in love with her.”