“Yes.”
“And how did the date end?”
“We were in my car, in front of her house, when her phone rang. I could only hear one side of the conversation, but it appeared there’d been some kind of accident—an incident, she called it—and she had to go and get her daughter right away.”
“Did you get the impression her daughter was hurt or in danger?”
“No. But Tori—Ms. Tyler—was in a big hurry. She rushed into the house, and a couple minutes later, her wagon passed me racing up the road.”
“Why didn’t you drive her in your car? That would have saved time.”
“I offered. But she insisted on going alone, as if she was on a secret mission or something.”
“Objection.” Tori’s voice was icy.
“Sustained,” the judge droned. “Strike the part about the secret mission.”
Clay cleared his throat. “Mr. Middleton, why do you think she was in such a hurry? Was it because the defendant, Mr. Tyler, wanted his daughter gone before the sheriff arrived on the scene?”
“Objection!” Tori snapped. “Calls for speculation!”
Clay shrugged. “Withdrawn. Your witness, Ms. Tyler.”
“No questions.” Tori shuffled her papers as the judge excused the witness. Middleton left without ever making eye contact with her. Whatever they’d shared in the past seemed to have gone sour. One less thing to worry about, Will told himself.
“Call your next witness, Mr. Drummond,” the judge said. “After that, we’ll break for lunch.”
“The people call Ms. Stella Rawlins.”
* * *
A murmur swept through the gallery as Stella took her time walking to the witness stand. Every eye was fixed on her. Aside from running the Blue Coyote, she’d kept a low profile in the town. For many of the spectators, this was
their first chance to get a good look at the woman. Damned if she isn’t putting on a show, Will thought.
After she’d taken the oath and stated her name for the record, Clay began his questioning. He looked more harried than ever. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His hands seemed unsteady, and his left eye had developed a noticeable tic.
Does Stella have something on him? But how can that be? Will wondered. Clay Drummond was a paragon of integrity, a leading citizen in the town, and the most likely candidate for a judgeship when Sid Henderson retired. Stella had brought down some powerful men, like former sheriff Hoyt Axelrod and Congressman Garn Prescott. But Clay? That didn’t seem possible.
“Ms. Rawlins, for the record, the victim, Nikolas Tomescu, was your brother, is that correct?”
“Yes. Nicky was all the family I had.” Her voice quavered on the edge of tears. The lady was good.
“And had you ever known him to act in a violent way?”
“Heavens, no! Nicky was slow and sweet, like a little child. I’d never known him to even kick a dog, let alone harm another human being.”
“So the defendant and his daughter were in no danger whatsoever on the night in question?”
“No. Poor Nicky wouldn’t have hurt either of them. He was most likely scared to . . . to death.” She dabbed at her eyes with a lace hanky.
“I see.” Clay gave the jury a meaningful glance. “No more questions. Your witness, Ms. Tyler.”
Tori stalked toward the witness stand. “My condolences for your brother’s loss, Ms. Rawlins.” Her voice was level, even cold. “Are you aware that the deputies found a packet of cocaine on your brother’s motorcycle?”
Stella’s eyes glittered with suppressed rage, but her husky voice betrayed nothing. “That’s what I was told. But I don’t know anything about it. I’d warned Nicky not to fool around with drugs, but evidently he didn’t listen to me.”
“The gun he had was registered to you. Did you give it to him?”