The judge looked at both parties. “I assume the authorities are notified.”
“Yes. My client was with them most of the night and all morning searching for him.”
Rachel clenched her fists.
“Let’s see how quickly we can move through this.”
Clive sat down, seemingly happy with the judge’s comments.
Rachel listened while Mr. Yanez opened the Colemans’ case and entered a plea that the judge offer them temporary custody of Owen until TJ returned from Syria. Yanez stated that she was a flight risk, as demonstrated by the documentation already presented into evidence regarding her recent flight to Central America with Owen the previous week.
Clive leaned over and whispered, “They have the burden of proof now.”
She kept silent and tried to keep her face emotionless as they spoke.
Yanez called Deyadria to the stand.
Rachel tried not to stare as the woman walked by. She stated her name and swore an oath that she would tell the truth.
But the first statement out of her mouth was a lie.
“We didn’t know we had a grandson until after his mother had passed.”
Rachel bit her tongue.
“And what did you do when you found out?” Mr. Yanez asked.
“We contacted Rachel Price immediately.”
At least that part was true.
“We told her we would lovingly take Owen with us.”
“What happened then?”
Deyadria looked everywhere but at Rachel. “Nothing. We heard nothing.”
“Miss Price took a job on the East Coast, is that right?”
“Yes. A job that gave her access to international travel on a moment’s notice.”
“Was this concerning to you?”
“Of course. She threatened to leave the country if we pursued custody of Owen.”
Rachel grabbed Clive’s hand. “That’s a lie. I never said that to them.”
He shushed her.
“What happened after Miss Price moved here?”
“Well, she made it look like she was trying to allow a relationship between Owen and us. But she never allowed us time alone with him.”
Rachel leaned over. “He didn’t want me to leave him alone.”
Clive held a hand in the air and made a note on his pad.
“You’ve stated in your complaint that Miss Price is not providing a safe environment for your grandson.”
Mrs. Coleman shook her head. “The home she’s in is falling down. The paint on the walls is peeling. Owen has complained about a headache every time we have seen him.”
“Are you concerned for his health?”
“I am. So is his father.”
“Objection,” Clive argued.
“Sustained. Mrs. Coleman, you cannot testify on your son’s opinion,” Judge Sherman announced.
Yanez took a breath and asked the question another way. “Did your son express concern about his son’s health?”
“Yes.”
Yanez paused and then moved on. “Can you tell us the events leading up to your plea for the court to remove Owen from Miss Price’s home?”
“My husband and I have been trying to establish a relationship with our grandson since we learned of him. Our son, TJ—Tereck Junior—Owen’s father, returned for Christmas and told us he wanted custody of his son. When we told Miss Price our intentions, she became irate and refused to answer our calls after that.”
All lies. Rachel looked at the faces of the others in the courtroom to find several people buying the fabricated story.
“What happened then?” Mr. Yanez stood behind his desk and asked questions while Clive listened and scribbled notes.
“She threatened to leave the country and told us we would never see our grandson again.”
Rachel shook her head.
Clive placed a hand over hers and offered a curt nod in warning.
Her eyes pleaded with him. She grabbed the pen from his hand and wrote on his pad with a heavy hand:
Not true!
“Is that when you went to the courts and petitioned for custody?”
“Yes,” Deyadria said.
“When did you become aware that Miss Price and Owen had left the country?”
“I saw a broadcast of Rachel speaking on behalf of the company she works for when they were in Costa Rica.”
“Is that part of her job?” Yanez asked.
“Objection,” Clive shouted out.
“Sustained.”
Mr. Yanez redirected. “Where was Owen while Miss Price was in Costa Rica?”
“In Costa Rica with her.”
“How did you determine that?”
“Owen has a social media thing, Instagram. He posted a picture of a beach.”
Mr. Yanez lifted a picture snapped from a phone and handed it to the bailiff. “What does Owen say along with this image?”
Rachel’s eyes followed the picture as it traveled to the judge. She glanced at it and then put it aside, no emotion on her face.
“It says, ‘The next time I come back here, I’m staying.’”
“What did that mean to you, Mrs. Coleman?”
The woman’s lip started to quiver and she glanced at the judge. “It meant I would never see my grandson again.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Coleman.” Mr. Yanez sat, and all eyes moved to Clive.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Coleman.”
Her quivering lip disappeared, and nerves in the form of a single tapping finger instantly started to show.
“Good afternoon.”
Clive smiled. “You have testified, under oath, that you didn’t know you had a grandson until after Owen’s mother had passed away.”
She nodded.
Judge Sherman spoke. “You have to answer with a yes or no, Mrs. Coleman. The court reporter cannot write down that you nodded.”
“Yes,” Deyadria lied.
“How did you find out about Owen?”
“My son told us.”
“TJ?”
“That’s right.”
“Did your son tell you about your grandson before or after Emily Moreau’s funeral?”
“After.”
“How do you know it was after?”
“Because he attended Miss Moreau’s services.”
“So your son had been in contact with Miss Moreau?”
Deyadria looked at her lawyer. “I’m not sure.”
“Objection.”
The judge didn’t rule quickly, so Mr. Yanez continued his argument. “How can Mrs. Coleman speculate on her son’s knowledge?”
“Sustained.”
“Where is your son now?” Clive asked.
“The last I heard he was in Syria. For work.”
“Does your son travel a lot?”
“He is a photojournalist. Traveling to places most of us avoid is his job.”
“You sound very proud of your son.” Clive smiled.
“I am.”
“How long has your son traveled for work?”
“Ever since he graduated from college. Almost twenty years.”
“Would you say Syria is a safe country?”
Mrs. Coleman shook her head. “No. I pray for his safety every night.”
“Probably not a place he’d take his son.”
“No. TJ would never put Owen in danger.”
Clive smiled and turned to the judge. “No further questions.”
Rachel sighed when Clive sat down.
“Any other witnesses?” Judge Sherman asked Mr. Yanez.
“No, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Redshaw, you have our attention.”
He patted Rachel’s hand and stood before calling her to the stand.
The vulnerable short stride to the bench, where she sat behind a microphone, was the longest walk she’d ever taken. She vowed to tell the truth and then took her seat.
Clive walked around the desk and tilted his head with a smile. “You look like you’ve
had a long night,” he began.
“I have.”
“Why?”
“I . . . we have been searching the streets of New York ever since Owen went missing.”
Clive looked around the room. “Who is we?”
“The Fairchilds, myself.” She looked at the clock. “By now Owen’s friends are out of school, and their families have joined the search.”
“Is it hard for you to be in this courtroom right now?”
She nodded. “We should be out there looking for him and not in here fighting over him.”
“Objection, Your Honor. If Mr. Redshaw felt the need to postpone this hearing, he could have asked at the beginning.”
Clive looked at the judge. “Leaving Owen in the foster care system longer than necessary will prompt the boy to flee again once he’s found. Which I will establish during this testimony.”
“Overruled,” Judge Sherman said.
Mr. Yanez sat down.
“Miss Price, tell me about your relationship with Owen.”
“I’ve known Owen since he was five. His mother and I became best friends shortly after we met.”
“Can you describe Emily Moreau for the court?”
Rachel couldn’t help the emotion that caught in her throat. “Em was, uhm . . . kind, loving. Very down-to-earth.”
“A saint?”
“No, of course not. She was very real and didn’t sugarcoat life just to please others.”
“What can you tell us about her relationship with TJ?”
“Objection,” Mr. Yanez shouted.
“Sustained.”
Clive didn’t miss a beat. “When did you meet TJ?”
“Owen was in first grade. I remember that because Emily and I were making thirty paper pioneer hats for his class. TJ came over to Emily and Owen’s home to see his son.”
“So TJ knew he had a son?”
“Yes, since his birth. I saw TJ once more when Owen was maybe ten, and then again at Emily’s funeral.”
“Would you say that Emily and TJ had a friendly relationship?”
Rachel smiled. “Yes. They were very adult about Owen. Emily never pressed TJ to be a full-time father, and from what I saw, he never tried.”
Rachel held her breath, thinking Mr. Yanez was going to object.
He didn’t.
“Did Owen know TJ was his father?” Clive asked.
“Yes,” Rachel said.
“Did Owen ever talk about his father?”
“No. Not really. Not until Emily got sick.”
“Let’s talk about that. You were living in California at the time of Emily’s passing?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you move to the East Coast?”
She looked at Jason, smiled. “To avoid this.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Colemans did contact me, within a month of Emily’s death. They told me they wanted to take Owen in.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“Anxious. Worried they would fight for custody. So Owen and I talked about our options and decided to move.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes. Honestly, I thought it would be good for Owen to know his grandparents.”
Rachel’s comment brought a gasp and rolling of the eyes from Deyadria.
“Why?” Clive asked.
“Watching your best friend die at a young age has a way of making you look at your own mortality. I knew if something happened to me, Owen would truly be alone. At least for Emily, she knew she had me. We worked out custody arrangements the month we found out she had cancer.”
Clive tapped his hand on the banister. “So you uprooted your life, found a position in Manhattan, and set down roots here.”
“That’s right. I bought a house, enrolled Owen in the high school.”
“How was your reception from the Colemans?”
Rachel looked first at Deyadria, then to Tereck. “Strained.”
“How so?”
“I felt they were trying to find fault in everything I did.”
“Was it comfortable to be around them?”
“No.”
“Have you kept Owen from seeing them?”
“No. We’ve seen them several times since we moved here.”
“Mrs. Coleman testified that you’re keeping Owen away,” Clive stated.
“If she is referring to the time she asked us to dinner and Owen had to work on a group project at school, then yes. We didn’t go.”
Deyadria was having a hard time sitting still.
“Or the time I had strep throat and had to cancel.”
“Could Owen go alone?”
“If he wanted to. He didn’t. I wasn’t about to force him.”
Clive walked back to his papers, looked at his notes. “On the petition for custody, the Colemans state they believe your home is full of toxins that are making their grandson ill.”
“It’s an old home, like many in the suburbs. But instead of guessing, I hired a contractor to test every corner of my house for anything toxic.”
Clive handed a piece of paper to the judge. “This is the preliminary report on the home inspection, along with blood work testing Miss Price for lead poisoning.”
“Has the opposing counsel seen this?” Judge Sherman asked.
“We have, Your Honor.”
She looked at the document in silence. “The full report won’t be ready for two days.”
“That’s right,” Clive told her.
Clive switched gears again.
“How did you end up in Costa Rica?”
Jason smiled her way, his eyes soft.
“I was with Mr. Fairchild when he learned of one of the company planes crashing. He needed to fly to the wreckage site and asked me to come.”
“As a friend?”
“And as an employee. It was New Year’s Day. Most of the employees were off on holiday.”
“So you grabbed Owen and left?”
She nodded. “Right. I didn’t want to leave Owen alone, with me being so far away. He stayed in the hotel with one of Jason’s friends while we worked.”
“Did you talk about staying in Central America?”
“We talked about coming back to visit. It’s beautiful there. Warm. I’m not used to New York winters.”
“I’ve lived here my whole life and I don’t like them,” Clive said, looking around the courtroom.
Laughter filled the room.
“When did you first hear from the courts about the Colemans’ petition for custody?”
Rachel’s brief joy vanished with his question. “When the police escorted me out of my office at work.”
“Why did they do that?”
“They told me I had violated a court order and they needed to question me.”
“But you never saw the court order.”
“I didn’t.” Rachel looked directly at the judge. “I swear to God I never saw any letter.”
Once again, Deyadria rolled her eyes and this time muttered something to her lawyer.
Clive handed another paper to the judge. “This is in your packet.”
The judge handed it back with a nod. “This is the paper from the service that sent you notice of the Colemans’ case. Have you seen it before today?”
“No.”
“Is that your signature?”
“No.”
Clive walked back to his stack of papers. “I’d like to bring into evidence signature cards from Rachel’s bank as evidence that this is not her signature.” He handed the paper to Mr. Yanez.
“Any objection, Mr. Yanez?” Judge Sherman asked.
“No.”
The judge addressed the court reporter, giving the evidence a number.
“We’re almost done here, Rachel. Do you know where Owen is right now?”
“No.” She wanted to cry.
“When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“The morning he was taken to the foster home. You a
dvised me not to contact him without permission from the court.”
“And did you follow that advice?”
“I have.”
“Do you know why he ran away?”
“Yes.”
Clive turned back to the judge. “I’d like to submit a recording of Owen from his personal cell phone into evidence.”
“Objection.”
Clive didn’t wait for a ruling. “Your Honor. Owen left a video recording the afternoon of his disappearance. It will show his state of mind and offer some light as to his relationship with the petitioning party.”
“Objection overruled.” She lifted her hand out.
The courtroom sat in silence as Judge Sherman listened to Owen’s message.
Clive ended his questioning.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jason noticed the moment when Rachel put a rod through her spine to face cross-examination. So far, he thought they were doing really well. He couldn’t read the judge, but it didn’t seem as if the Colemans had any real evidence against Rachel.
“Good afternoon,” Mr. Yanez addressed Rachel.
“Good afternoon.”
The pleasantries were making Jason ill.
“I’ll be brief, Miss Price.”
She glanced at Jason, tried to smile.
“You testified that you took a job in Manhattan.”
“Yes.”
“What is your position?”
“I’m in marketing at Fairchild Charters.”
“Marketing. How did marketing play into your need to go to Costa Rica? Wouldn’t risk management or public relations be better suited for damage control?”
Rachel looked at Jason again. “Yes. But—”
“Let me guess, you volunteered to jump on a plane and leave the country.”
“Jason asked me to go with him.”
“Jason? That would be Jason Fairchild, the CEO and co-owner of the company?”
Jason lifted his chin as the attention in the courtroom centered on him.
“Yes.”
“At what time did you learn about the ill-fated Fairchild jet that went down?”
“It was early, five thirty, six in the morning.”
“How is it you and your boss were together that early in the morning on a holiday?”
Rachel swallowed. “Jason and I share a personal relationship.”
“You’re lovers?”
“Objection, Your Honor. This is irrelevant.”
Not Quite Crazy Page 26
