Family

by Karen Kingsbury

  He gulped and uttered a silent prayer that Katy would be protected and that even with his biological brother sitting next to him, there would be at least one secret the paparazzi would never find out about.

  Katy was in a small sitting area adjacent to the courtroom. Luke Baxter was sitting at the table, as were a few members of the prosecution team.

  Luke was explaining that she had a choice about where to sit during the proceedings. “Oftentimes judges ask all witnesses to leave the courtroom because of the testimony. But in your case there’s nothing you don’t already know. The police officer is going by the account you and Dayne gave, and—” he smiled—“of course you and Dayne have the same story since you were together.”

  She nodded. She was trying to listen, but something about Luke was distracting her.

  His expression changed. “But you don’t have to stay in the courtroom, Katy. You can wait in this room until they call you and leave when you’re finished.”

  “Right.” Katy bit her lip. What was it? Luke was Ashley’s brother, but she’d never met him until today. So why was he so familiar looking? Not just his eyes and his face but his mannerisms. Katy tried to keep her mind on the matter at hand. “What will Dayne do?”

  “He’ll be in the courtroom for most of it. His presence is important for the prosecution.” Luke kept his tone professional. “Yours is important but not in a high-profile way.”

  Katy frowned. Not yet, she wanted to say. “Do I have to decide now?”

  “No.” Luke adjusted his tie. He leaned forward. “Are you okay? Ashley said you were pretty nervous about the publicity.”

  “Yes.” She wondered how much to tell him. “There’s a lot at stake.”

  “I’ll be meeting with Joe Morris every few hours. We’ll do our best to keep the attention off you.”

  “Thanks.”

  There was a noise at the door, and they turned.

  Joe Morris walked in, his cheeks red. “Intense.”

  Behind him were Dayne and two police officers. Dayne’s eyes met Katy’s. For the sweetest second, they weren’t in a stuffy room about to be witnesses in an attempted murder case. They weren’t ready to take the stand while every major media source took careful note. They were just two people lost in a sea of emotion, a sea neither of them could even begin to navigate.

  She allowed the hint of a smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He stepped in and came to her. In a way that couldn’t be mistaken for more than a show of support, he put his hand on her shoulder. “You okay?” His voice was meant only for her.

  “Fine.” His touch was electric, and she wondered at her careless heart. Dayne’s world was insane, wilder than anything she could’ve dreamed. No matter what changes he’d made, she had no right letting herself have feelings for him. Not when they might as well live on different planets. In his world they couldn’t hold a single public conversation without it being headline news. “Did you come through the front?”

  “We did.”

  “It’s a zoo.” Joe wheeled around the table and took a seat next to Luke.

  Luke stood and reached out to Dayne. “Good to see you again.”

  “Thanks for coming.” The two shook hands. “We need all the help we can get.”

  Katy watched them, and again she was struck by something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Whatever it was, the feeling was stronger watching Luke with Dayne. Or maybe it was the look in Dayne’s eyes. They held something that hadn’t been there before. A sweet shining sadness, as if he were greeting a long-lost friend and not an associate from his law firm.

  After a few minutes, Joe motioned to Luke. “I need to talk to you out in the hall for a minute.”

  The two left, and Dayne took the seat next to Katy. With the prosecution team members talking at the other end of the table, she almost felt as if she were alone with him. He looked incredible, more dressed up than she’d ever seen him. Suddenly her cheeks felt hot. She glanced at her black pants and white lightweight cable-knit sweater. “I’m underdressed.”

  “No.” Dayne shook his head. His expression told her he had a hundred things he wanted to say. “You’re perfect.”

  She wanted to tell him about Luke, about how he seemed so strangely familiar, but the chief prosecutor, Tara Lawson, walked into the room and motioned for everyone to listen up. She was in her late forties, her hair cut short around her face. She looked from Dayne to Katy and then to her fellow prosecuting team members at the far end of the table. “It’s time. Katy, I’ve reserved you a spot in the courtroom. I’d like you there throughout the proceedings, if that’s okay.”

  Katy thought quickly. “Yes. Fine.”

  “Good.” Tara took a quick breath. “Okay, everyone. Follow me.”

  Katy’s heart skipped a beat. She had no choice now. She would be in the courtroom because that’s what was expected of her.

  Dayne nudged her and leaned in closer. “You’ll be fine. Keep praying.”

  She already was, of course. She’d been praying constantly. Still, his words were like a balm for her soul. He’d changed so much since their first meeting. How incredible that now he was the one reminding her to pray. Peace filtered through her even as they stood and filed out of the small room.

  Tara led the way as they headed for the empty row she had reserved directly behind the table where she and her prosecuting team would be stationed. The peace from moments earlier left in a hurry. Katy’s heart beat so hard she wondered if the court reporter could hear it.

  Tara studied Dayne and Katy. “You’ll be fine.” Then she and her prosecution team headed toward the front of the courtroom.

  Joe Morris directed the rest of them, careful to sit Katy next to Luke Baxter, with Dayne at the opposite end of the row. No sense giving the photographers something to shoot on the first day. At this point, the media could mistake Katy for part of the legal staff, not the woman all of Hollywood wanted to know about.

  Not until Katy was seated did she allow herself to look around the courtroom. The crowd amazed her. There were people with cameras packed into every available spot. Tara had already explained that in California each judge had the right to allow or disallow cameras in his or her courtroom. The judge in this case—Henry P. Nguyen—had handled high-profile cases before. He had given select members of the press the okay to attend and to take photos and video footage. But he reserved the right to make them leave if they were disruptive.

  Katy shifted her gaze to the left and noticed two rows of six people along the side of the courtroom. The jury, of course. Most of them were looking at Dayne. Tara Lawson had said that one of the defense’s strategies was to find a jury that wouldn’t be starstruck by Dayne Matthews. The prosecution team had laughed at the idea. Now Katy could see why. At least half of them looked ready to spring from their seats and beg Dayne for an autograph.

  She looked to the far right, and what she saw made her heart skip a beat. Margie Madden was sitting at a table near the front, opposite Tara Lawson and her team. Her hair was shorter and combed straight—not the wild yellow mop she’d had the night of the attack. But her eyes were beady and lifeless and aimed straight at Dayne. She blew him a kiss, and behind her Katy could hear the cameras going off like so many crickets on a summer night in Bloomington.

  Next to Margie a gray-haired man in a suit took firm hold of her arm. He whispered something in her ear, and she seemed to snap back at him. Once more she turned her attention to Dayne, but this time she glared at him.

  Katy slid down in her seat a few inches. God, I’m not sure I can do this.

  I am with you. . . . You will not have to fight this battle alone, daughter.

  The words—whispered from the most private room in her soul—drowned out everything else. She would be okay because God was with her. It was the single bit of truth that made Katy’s heartbeat slow and brought sense to the moment.

  For the next hour the judge heard opening remarks from Tara Lawson. “The defense team will tell
you that the defendant, Margie Madden, is insane, that by reason of insanity she should not be held accountable for her actions on the night the crime in question occurred.” She had complete command of the room, every eye on her. “But we will prove to you that Ms. Madden knew very well what she was doing, and she intended to commit murder that night.”

  Katy shuddered at the thought.

  The gray-haired attorney gave his opening remarks next. “Mental illness is a troubling disease. I intend to prove to you that my client acted out as a symptom of her illness, and she would be best served by being placed in a facility where she can receive medicine and supervision. Not by being treated as a criminal.”

  Next to Katy, Luke Baxter touched her arm. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine.” Katy remembered to exhale. “It’s intense.”

  “Just wait.” Luke frowned. “This is nothing.”

  The police officer who first responded to the scene took the stand. He told about the mad look in Margie’s eyes and how the woman with Dayne Matthews had knife marks on her neck and arm.

  “Can you tell us the name of the woman with Dayne Matthews?” Tara Lawson had explained earlier that she had no choice but to get this fact out in the open right off. Katy’s testimony was crucial to the case, and her identity needed to be spelled out in order for her place on the witness stand to make sense.

  “Yes.” The officer faced the prosecuting attorney. “Her name is Katy Hart.”

  There was a rustling near the back of the courtroom as the members of the media realized what had just happened. The mystery was solved; the woman had a name.

  Katy worked hard not to react. They might know her identity, but they didn’t have to know she was that person, not yet.

  Tara waited for the commotion to die down. “Is it your belief that the defendant, Margie Madden, intended to kill Katy Hart?”

  The officer didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  “Can you explain to the jury why this is your opinion?”

  “From the moment we arrived on the scene—” he looked across the courtroom at Margie—“the defendant was shouting threats at Ms. Hart.”

  “Can you be specific, please? What was the defendant shouting at Ms. Hart?”

  “She was threatening to kill her, telling her that next time she wouldn’t wait, that she wouldn’t rest until both Ms. Hart and Mr. Matthews were dead.”

  Another rustling came from the media.

  The judge raised his hand. “Order.”

  The reporters and photographers responded with immediate silence. Katy could understand why. The information coming from the witness stand was too good. The last thing they wanted was to be kicked out of the courtroom for being unruly.

  Luke reached over and discreetly squeezed Katy’s arm. “Hang in there.”

  “I am.” Without moving her head, she glanced toward the end of the aisle. Dayne was watching the police officer on the stand, keeping his promise to defer all attention from Katy, to do his part to keep the media from knowing just yet that she was the woman being discussed on the stand.

  The testimony grew more technical, and the intensity cooled some. After lunch, the prosecutor finished up with the police officer; then the defense attorney spent an hour on cross-examination.

  “Isn’t it true,” the gray-haired man asked, “that you never, not once, actually saw the defendant with a knife in her hand?”

  The policeman looked confused. “Of course I didn’t see the knife in her hand. The knife was several feet away, where Dayne Matthews—”

  “Please—” he held up his hand—“yes or no.”

  “Okay.” He shrugged. “No. I didn’t see the knife in her hand.”

  “So you are relying completely on a report given to you by witnesses. Is that right?”

  The questions wore on, and Katy felt herself relax. She had been worked up about nothing—at least for now. Dayne was next on the list of prosecution witnesses, and she was third. They would never have time for all of that today.

  Finally Dayne was called to the stand. The photographers snapped into action, though they stayed relatively quiet. Dayne walked slowly, never once looking at Margie Madden.

  Katy watched him, the striking figure he made as he moved across the courtroom to the witness stand. No wonder America was crazy about him.

  The prosecutor started with the easy questions. His name, occupation, the fact that he was pursued by many people in the course of a day, most of them fans he didn’t know.

  “Would you say that on occasion there are fans who act a little extreme—following you or asking things of you that make you uncomfortable?” Tara was standing a few feet from the witness stand. Her experience and confidence rang in every word.

  “Yes.” Dayne nodded. “On occasion a fan can get overzealous.”

  Tara turned slowly and headed back to the table. One of her team members handed her a document. “Is it true that at some point you were warned by police about a fan who was thought to drive a yellow Honda Civic?”

  The gray-haired attorney was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor.” He motioned to Dayne. “The prosecutor is leading the witness.”

  Tara held up the document. “The warning included the color, make, and model of the car driven by the fan in question.”

  Judge Nguyen nodded. “Overruled.” He looked at Tara. “Show the witness the document, please.”

  “Very well.” Tara was just moving toward the witness stand when it happened.

  Margie Madden seemed to realize what was coming, that Dayne was about to describe in detail everything that happened the night of the attack. And in that instant it must have occurred to her that if Dayne was going to share his version of the story, the woman with Dayne that night might be about to testify also.

  Whatever was running through her head, Margie spun around and began looking frantically at the crowd of spectators and media members. Her attorney tried to get her attention, but before he could, Margie found her. She locked eyes on Katy. “You!” She stood and pointed at her.

  “Order!” Judge Nguyen rapped his gavel on his bench. “Counsel, you will keep the defendant under control.”

  The defense attorney was trying. He tugged on Margie’s sleeve, but she jerked away and took four giant steps toward Katy. Across the back of the courtroom, cameras were clicking as fast as they could. Before two armed bailiffs could grab the woman, she pointed at Katy again. With words that were as chilling as they were loud, she said, “I’m going to kill you! Dayne is my husband!”

  Katy wanted to run for her life.

  Luke Baxter slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Ignore her, Katy. She can’t hurt you.”

  The bailiffs grabbed Margie’s arms and shoved them behind her back. She was cuffed and led back to the defense table, but the entire time she was looking over her shoulder at Katy, snarling something unintelligible.

  Before Katy could take her next breath, the cameras shifted. If the reporters had wondered who she was at the beginning of the proceedings, they had no doubt now. She was Katy Hart. How could she be anyone else?

  Katy could feel Dayne watching her, feel him praying for her, willing her to be strong, not to bolt. She kept her focus on Luke. “Is she still looking at me?”

  “Don’t worry about it, Katy.” He tightened his hold on her, sheltering her and making it appear that the two of them were lost in an intense conversation.

  “Stop the cameras.” The judge was rapping his bench, trying desperately to regain control of his courtroom. “I’d like all members of the press to step out while we regain order here.”

  There was a grumbling from the media horde, but they had no choice. The entire mass of them began shuffling toward the door.

  All the while, Margie Madden was shouting at the bailiffs to leave her alone. Katy looked up in time to see her struggling against one of the armed officers. Then Margie’s eyes—wild and furtive—made a quick search across the room until they found Katy’s again.
“You! Stay away from my husband, you tramp! Stay away or I’ll kill you!”

  From the witness stand, Dayne remained tight-lipped and calm. But Katy knew what he had to be feeling. He probably would’ve been glad to strangle Margie at this point. Dayne met Katy’s eyes and mouthed the word sorry.

  She couldn’t respond, but she tried to tell him with her expression that it wasn’t his fault. None of this was his fault.

  “Kill you . . . ,” Margie spat in Katy’s direction. Then she leaned her head back and cackled. By then the room was empty of any cameras or members of the press. Margie seemed to sense something had changed. Without warning, she switched voices. As if two people lived inside her, she began shouting in a high-pitched voice, “Help . . . help me! It’s all your fault, Chloe! I’m going down in flames because of you! Help me!”

  “Your Honor.” The gray-haired attorney stood. He looked and sounded utterly defeated. “I’d like to move to adjourn for the day. Clearly we have some issues with the defendant.” He gestured toward the jury. “I’d also like to move for a mistrial, since the jurors cannot possibly remain objective after this display from my client.”

  Katy looked at the jury. They were gripped by the scene playing out, leaning forward in their seats, eyes wide and unblinking.

  Margie Madden was snarling at the bailiffs. The high-pitched voice was gone. “It’s none of your business who I kill.” Her voice was lower than before. “I’ll kill her if I want to kill her.”

  “I’ll agree to adjourn for the day.” Relief filled the judge’s expression. He brushed his hand in the direction of the bailiffs. “Get her out of here.” He looked first at the defense lawyer and then at Tara and her team of prosecutors. “I’d like to speak to both counsels at the bench.”

  Katy’s stomach hurt, and she realized she’d been holding her breath.

  As the bailiffs led Margie from the room, Luke removed his arm from around her and touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Katy. That . . . that just doesn’t happen.”

  Frightening questions lined up in her mind, demanding to be addressed. What would become of the trial? Would the judge declare the jury too biased to do their job? The media had figured out who she was, so what exactly was Joe Morris going to tell them at his press conference later today? And what would it take to find a minute alone with Dayne so they could talk?