“Adeline?” she asks, fighting to get past her lawyer as the judge’s gavel slams down. Two more bailiffs charge in the room. One restrains Rebecca, the other pins me back with the help of Luke and Click.
“What the hell is going on here?” the judge shouts as order slowly starts to fall into place.
We all speak, but she points at Click and demands he comes forward. “You, you tell me what’s happening here immediately. You’re the head of security, aren’t you?” I hear Rebecca sobbing as she continues to fight against the arms of the bailiff.
“Your Honor, last night Rebecca’s daughter was abducted from her room at the Marshal’s house where she is staying. We’ve searched high and low with no sign of her. One of the other children in the room reported smelling perfume when they woke to find Adeline missing. I believe Mrs. Hoyle has just admitted knowing something about the child’s whereabouts.”
Rebecca’s cries grow louder and more panicked and I want to go to her, but I’m restrained too tightly.
“Why was I not made aware of this?” the judge demands. “Mrs. Hoyle, if you know anything about the abduction of this child I implore you to tell me. I understand the pain and loss you have experienced in your life, but that should create empathy, not this.” The judge’s eyes are like lasers, angrily shooting down Mrs. Hoyle, whose lip begins to quiver.
“I want her to know what it feels like to lose your only child. I want her to know what she did to me. What she took from me.”
“I didn’t kill your son!” Rebecca screams and the judge’s gavel falls again.
“Mrs. Hoyle,” the judge shouts assertively. “Where is the child?”
“She’s asleep in my car,” she says, dangling the keys out and Click quickly snatches them from her and heads for the door.
“No need,” a voice says in a husky whisper and we all turn toward it. It’s Hoyle, holding a sleeping Adeline against his shoulder, his free hand has a gun pointed at her tiny ribs. Rebecca shrieks again, but muffles it with her hands.
“Harold,” Mrs. Hoyle says with wide eyes. “Put that gun down. Don’t you harm that child. I was never going to hurt her.”
“Quiet everyone, quiet. We don’t want to wake her. Right now she’s in dreamland thinking everything is fine with the world. We don’t want to rob her of that.” His voice is flatter than I think it should be, the kind of calm only a crazy person could have under these circumstances. I know he could care less about Adeline, he’s just smart enough to know a sleeping child is easier to keep captive than one who’s awake and screaming.
“Mr. Hoyle,” the judge says, her voice shaking slightly. “Please hand the child over to the bailiff. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt in my courtroom today.”
“I don’t really care what you want,” Hoyle says with a maniacal smile. “Everyone take your phones out and pass them to my wife.” He uses his crazy eyes to demand Mrs. Hoyle comply, so she does.
We all pull out our phones and hand them over. “All the bailiffs go take a seat on the floor in front of the judge’s bench. Take out your pepper spray and your Tasers and slide those to the lovely Mrs. Hoyle as well.” His demands are being met quickly, but I’m fighting the urge to tackle him. Only the barrel of his gun dancing on the edge of Adeline’s pajama shirt is keeping me from doing it. And he knows it.
“I don’t know if you realize this but I run a very profitable drug business on the land your company bought. And just this morning the trailers I use were all raided. My men were rounded up, my contacts tracked down. My income has been dismantled. My job is gone and now my extracurricular activities now gone as well. How is a man supposed to eat in this town?” Hoyle asks as he moves past me, closer to the front of the courtroom. Everyone is in shock but the most surprised is Mrs. Hoyle.
“Harold, what are you talking about? What are you saying? Why would you have anything to do with drugs?”
“I’m saying this man,” he turns back toward me, “came here to ruin my life and he’s well on his way. But he forgot there is one thing worse than losing all your money. Losing someone you love.” He runs the gun through Adeline’s curls and she stirs slightly. I hear Rebecca on the verge of hyperventilating.
“I know it ruined us when Brent was killed,” Mrs. Hoyle says, “but she’s going to go away for it. She’s going to pay for killing him. Those girls, they say she admitted it. Then they found that baseball bat. That’s going to make this better. Once the right person is in jail for it, we’ll feel better. Just let the little girl go.”
“She didn’t kill your son,” Dr. Patel says in a steady voice and I wonder why he isn’t cowering behind the witness stand.
“What?” Mrs. Hoyle asks, charging up there as though she must not have heard him correctly.
“I have the report right here, Mrs. Hoyle. Miss Farrus did not kill your son.”
“How do you know that? You only took twenty-four hours and you rule her out as a suspect? That can’t be.”
“Would you like me to read the report, Mrs. Hoyle?” Dr. Patel says, and again I’m shocked by his calm. I suppose when you do a job like his every day, death seems like an old friend, rather than something to fear.
The judge opens her mouth to speak, and though I can’t tell what she intends to say, I’m sure she won’t allow this under the circumstances.
“No,” Hoyle snaps, cutting the judge off as he pulls his ex-wife backward by the arm. I watch as the gun is pointed away from Adeline momentarily and wonder if I should make an attempt to grab Adeline. Click steps forward and begins to speak.
“What’s your move here, Hoyle? There are guards outside.”
“I already slipped by them. I know every entrance to this place, every exit.”
“So what, you’re going to take the child and your ex-wife and run away? Try to avoid the police the rest of your life.”
“I’m not going anywhere with him,” Mrs. Hoyle says, looking at her ex-husband as though he’s a stranger. “I want to know who killed my son. If it wasn’t her, and it wasn’t him,” she points at me, “then who was it? Read me the report,” she demands.
“Stop it,” Hoyle says again, pulling her by the arm. “We’re getting out of here and we’re taking her with us. She’s our insurance policy. They won’t touch us as long as we have her. I’ve got money. We’ll start over somewhere.”
“Read the report,” Mrs. Hoyle demands of Dr. Patel as she breaks away from Hoyle’s grip.
Dr. Patel looks again at his papers and begins to speak. “Ma’am I will save you the technical side of my report. I can say conclusively that your son—” Hoyle charges forward and buries the gun into the temple of Dr. Patel.
“Don’t say another word,” he hisses, pushing the gun harder against the doctor’s head.
“Harold, take it easy,” the prosecutor pleads, but when Hoyle growls at him he ducks quickly behind the table once again.
“You don’t want her to know, do you?” Patel asks, still unruffled as he looks over at Click. I watch as he gives him a look that is nearly imperceptible, but Click and I both understand. As long as the gun is pointed at him, it is not pointed at Adeline.
Click steps forward again, just a few inches closer to Hoyle who quickly realizes the proximity and points the gun back at Adeline.
“So you already know,” Patel says, trying to grab Hoyle’s attention again. “But you don’t want her to find out.” He points over at Mrs. Hoyle and then flips the page on his binder.
“Shut up,” Hoyle snarls, coming unglued as he swings the gun back at Patel.
I step forward as well, now that the gun is no longer pointed at Adeline. Click is within diving distance and my blood is pumping through my veins at a thunderous speed.
“It’s okay, Mr. Hoyle, if you don’t want me to, I won’t say anything. Take the report with you. Destroy it if you like. There are no copies. I want you to do this. You have my permission,” he says, looking over at Click, the message intended for him. He was giving his appr
oval to strike, to take a chance at saving Adeline even if it meant he might be shot, or killed.
I can see the temptation in Hoyle’s eyes. He wants that report. He actually thinks taking it will stop the truth from being told. It’s illogical but he’s a desperate man. He gestures for Patel to hand over the report and as he attempts to tuck it under his arm Click makes his move.
He dives forward and I hear the gun pop.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Devin
The noise reverberates around the stark courtroom, accompanied by shrieks and screams. Another pop goes off as I charge forward. I see Click roll away with a now very awake Adeline in his arms. She looks terrified, but alive, and I feel an instant surge of relief come over me. Click is pulling Adeline behind the row of wooden benches as Hoyle rolls to his side to get his bearings. Was anyone hit by the flying bullets? Does Hoyle still have the gun? My body is in motion before I find those answers. I dive toward him and hear the pop of another shot. I can feel the force and heat of the bullet hitting me, but I can’t feel the pain. The surging adrenaline in my body keeps me from agony.
I wrestle the gun from Hoyle’s hand and am quickly assisted by two bailiffs as they use their full weight to hold Hoyle down. Luke is pulling me backward and I can feel the pain. It’s in my arm, and the blood on my white shirt is spreading quickly.
“Is she hurt?” I ask, craning my neck to find Click and Adeline.
“I think she’s fine; Click took her outside. She looked okay when I saw her go by. I think he might have been hit though. Let me see your arm,” Luke says, sitting me down behind the prosecutor’s chair. Everyone else had fled the second the shots were fired, heading for the nearest exit.
Dr. Patel is down by my side. “That was impressive,” I say, looking the doctor over.
“You’re the one who took the bullet,” he reminds me, ripping the sleeve of my shirt open so he can see the wound. It looks like a through and through, likely just hit muscle. He rips the sleeve of my shirt and ties it tightly around my arm. “Keep pressure on that. I’m going to go check on the little girl and the Marine.”
“Where is Rebecca?” I groan as Luke puts pressure on my arm.
“She went out after Adeline and Click. She was all right too, just shook up.”
The chaotic courtroom is a cacophony of sounds. I can hear Hoyle shouting as they tug him toward the wall. They’re trying to escort the judge out as well but she won’t go.
“Stop!” Mrs. Hoyle is screaming over and over again, until the room quiets and everyone is staring at her. The crimson color of her face is shining with the streaks of tears on her cheeks. “I want to know the truth. I need to know what happened to my son.”
“Mrs. Hoyle, you are going to be arrested and charged with the abduction and endangerment of a child. You have no rights here to request anything,” Judge Cunningham shouts angrily. There is a shake in her voice as she takes in the scene that has unfolded in her courtroom.
“I know what I did was wrong,” Mrs. Hoyle says as one of the bailiffs restrains her arms behind her. “But please, please let me hear this,” she begs. I watch Rebecca step back into the room, checking to see if I’m all right.
She rushes over to me and a bailiff is at her side reaching for her arm. “Ma’am, you need to take a seat back at the defendant’s table.” She pulls her arm from his grip and reaches for me. I wince as her arms come down against my shoulder. “You’re shot?” she asks breathlessly. I see the judge nod to the bailiff to leave Rebecca alone for a moment, a good sign.
“I’m fine. Where is Adeline?”
“She’s waiting outside with Click. He was grazed by a bullet, but he’s fine too. She got a bump on her head when Click tackled Hoyle, and Dr. Patel wants her to get checked out.”
Dr. Patel is behind Rebecca now and checking to see if the blood has stopped pouring from my arm.
“Please!” Mrs. Hoyle shouts again and everyone turns toward her.
“What does she want?” Patel asks as he checks my pulse.
The judge sits back in her chair as she begins to speak. “She wants to hear your report, Dr. Patel. She wants to know what happened to her son. But as I see it we have people injured here and a volatile situation. I don’t believe now is the time.”
“I can paraphrase it,” Dr. Patel says as he steps to the front of the court and lifts his binder off the floor. “I think this will likely be the last time Mr. and Mrs. Hoyle will be in the same room together. If she’s going to hear the truth, one he already knows, then I think it should happen now.”
“If you feel up to it, but this will no longer be part of this hearing, as the stenographer and prosecutor have fled the courtroom. Once the paramedics arrive I’ll need you to stop.”
“I want to hear it, too,” Rebecca says and she lets me go, turning to stare at a restrained and despondent Hoyle. He looks defeated. Perhaps he’s rattled from being tackled or he knows the end is unavoidable. His silence is eerie. The fight has left his body.
Dr. Patel takes his seat again at the witness stand and clears his throat. “Brent Hoyle did not die as a result of smoke inhalation. His lungs were free from any soot or smoke damage, meaning he died before the fire started. His injuries are consistent with a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Cause of death is suicide.”
“No!” Mrs. Hoyle screams as she falls to her knees in the bailiffs’ arms. “That’s not possible. He would never do that. He was not that kind of person.” She’s stuttering out the words through her tears. “They found him, they never said there was a gun there. It was one of our friends, a lifelong friend of Harold.”
“I’m sure the scene was staged to cover up the truth, Mrs. Hoyle,” Dr. Patel says. “I am certain your son died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the left temple. I can go over the forensics and pathology with you, but it is very straightforward. Your son killed himself.”
“He did it because you broke his arm,” she says, spitting at me. Her hair and eyes are wild.
“Your son,” Dr. Patel cuts in, “had all the physical attributes of someone who abused a significant amount of anabolic steroids. His bones and tendons were frail, among other signs. It’s likely why his arm broke as badly as it did.”
“He didn’t use steroids,” she asserts, gathering herself up and trying to fight the good fight for her son’s name, defend his honor. “Harold gave him vitamins. They were injections that made him healthy and kept him playing well. He’d never do steroids.”
“Because of the lapse in time, toxicology would not be able to pinpoint exactly which drugs he was using, but bone development and other physical signs point conclusively to steroid use over a long period of time. Likely starting just after puberty. Is that when your husband started giving him the injections?” Dr. Patel asks as he flips another page in his binder. His cool demeanor indicates he faces these types of scenarios all the time.
“Yes,” she mouths silently as she fixes her gaze on her ex-husband, whose eyes are directed to the floor.
Dr. Patel continues speaking, but Mrs. Hoyle never takes her eyes off the father of her son. “It’s very common for people taking steroids to have significant changes to their personalities. Mood swings and rage are the most well-known, but some people experience suicidal thoughts and tendencies as well. If he was under a significant amount of pressure he could have had some kind of psychotic break.”
“The kind of pressure that comes from being yelled at when you don’t make the catch? The kind of pressure that comes from being called a moron and a waste of space?” Mrs. Hoyle asks, though the questions don’t need to be answered. “I entrusted you with protecting our son, and instead you destroyed him.” Her voice is quivering with anger and I feel myself starting to spin. Maybe I’ve lost more blood than I thought. Or maybe I wasn’t prepared for this version of history.
As I look at Rebecca’s face I can see she’s equally blindsided, a tremble in her hand as she reaches out and touches my shoulder. “He killed himse
lf?” she asks quietly, as though she doesn’t want to believe what she’s heard. This had never crossed my mind.
Hoyle’s voice is cracking with anger as he fires back an answer to his wife. “You had him following you around by your apron strings. My father would have been rolling over in his grave if he saw how that boy was turning out. I did what I had to do to toughen him up and make him a man.”
“Your father was a bully and an abusive, cruel man. We promised we’d do it differently. We swore we’d raise him better than you were raised. But if anything you did worse.” She tries to fight her way out of the bailiff’s arms but she’s unsuccessful. “You killed him. You may not have pulled the trigger but you murdered the sweet, loving boy we created the second you put that first needle in him. You selfish son of a bitch. You ruined everything.”
“Bailiffs, clear the courtroom. I can hear the ambulances coming, let’s get medical attention to those who need it. Put Mr. and Mrs. Hoyle in holding cells while we determine what they’ll be charged with.” She has a look of disgust on her face that quickly fades away as she turns toward Dr. Patel. “I’m sorry to say you’ll have to come back here and enter your report into evidence formally. You’ll need to testify again. But I’d like you to know that your actions today were very heroic. Distracting a gunman and staying calm in the face of danger is very admirable.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. I think you and I are both in a line of work where we want fewer clients, not more. My goal is always to keep people off my tables, especially children. I hope I’m not out of line for asking, Judge, but despite my report being unofficially read, will Miss Farrus be free to go? Her child has a bump on her head and should be checked for a concussion at the hospital. I’m sure she’s anxious to accompany her.”
I take in a breath, and hold it, trying to read the judge’s face. These are extraordinary circumstances, but the judge might err on the side of caution and decide to keep Rebecca in jail until everything can be sorted out officially. My arm is starting to throb and I can feel Luke’s weight bearing down on me.
All My Heart (The Clover Series) Page 15
