Lies & Devotion (Blood and Iron Warriors Book 3)

by Kat Kenyon

  “Of course.”

  “So why is it, the only time either of them ever saw you, was when you were required to be there, such as when Rayne’s injuries were turned in to the State?”

  Her eyes snap to Arnowsky, and on cue, her anger peeks out from behind the paranoia and bullshit. “I told you, I was busy.”

  “Doing what?” Arnowsky flips through his folders again.

  “I had two children.”

  “Yes. But your oldest went everywhere with his little sister, even at sixteen. So where were you if both your children were regularly together?”

  She looks at her attorney, as if he can help her. “I don’t understand.”

  “Right. You don’t do drugs?”

  “No.”

  “Your Honor, we have a video taken in the last week of Ms. Donahue, showing her buying drugs on at least two occasions. Can we please put them into evidence?”

  There’s an objection which is overruled, and after a moment, Detective Gillete delivers a flash drive to the bailiff.

  A placid smile on his face, Arnowsky asks my mother, “Why were you on Fifth and Lincoln at least twice in the last ten days?”

  Fear. That’s the look that crosses her face. Her mouth opens but nothing comes out. She goes there to meet her dealer, but I’m stunned someone else went there and recorded her. My first instinct is Tyler, he’d do that for my sake, but when I turn to him, he gives me a shake of the head and mouths, “Corey.”

  Whipping around to look at my brother, his eyes lock on mine, and we exchange love and forgiveness. I’d had no idea it was so scary for him when he was at home. I knew what happened to me, but thinking back, before he left, I was never hurt by mom’s boyfriends. She hurt me, but they didn’t. Looking into eyes that twin mine, I know he saved me. And was abused for it.

  “Ms. Donahue, I need an answer.”

  “Objection, Your—”

  The judge gives Emily’s attorney his palm and a dirty look. “You and your client presented one version of the truth. They have every right to impeach her testimony. Ms. Donahue, you will answer the question.”

  She looks shaken and after trying to answer again, she finally croaks out, “I met a friend.”

  “I’m sure he’s a very good friend; could you tell me what you gave him and what he gave you on both occasions?”

  “I don’t—I didn’t—”

  “Ms. Donahue, we have this on tape. I can and will play the exchange, which shows you did.”

  “He…”

  After she freezes, he slaps down two more documents. “Please tell me again how you spent your days, because you most certainly weren’t taking care of my client.”

  “She’s my daughter!”

  “Yes. One you used to get money to supply your drug habit.”

  “Objection!”

  “Counsel?”

  Walking over to the judge, Arnowsky drops some files. “These documents are the agreement between Ms. Donahue and Lawrence Mathews, my client’s paternal grandfather. It states that as soon as my client left her mother’s home, the money funding Ms. Donahue’s habits would end. When my client made it clear she wouldn’t be coming back, she stopped accepting calls from her mother because Ms. Donahue was harassing her. Miss Mathews was clear from the beginning of the semester she wasn’t coming back and notified her mother and her grandfather that she had permanently moved out. The money was shifted to an account to maintain my client. Her mother was given notice that payments on the house and to her expense account were coming to an end. That happened in September, so Ms. Donahue is out of money.”

  He walks back to the witness stand and turns on Emily. “Isn’t that right? You’re broke. Because my client moved out of a house infested with drugs, abusers, and a mother who couldn’t be bothered to care for her since she was a child?”

  Weakly, Emily whispers, “No.”

  “So why did she want to leave if you’re such a loving and caring mother? Why would she rather be completely alone, stay at school over the Thanksgiving holiday, over Christmas, than see you?”

  “She’s angry.” Panic begins to filter into her eyes. It’s a look I know well, one she descends into whenever she’s pushed into a corner. It never ends well.

  “About?” Arnowsky blocks her from my sight. “What was she mad about? What could be so bad she ran from you?”

  “I wouldn’t break up with Jim.” Her breath sounds labored, but I can’t see her face.

  “James Llewyn.”

  “Yes.”

  “The man you allowed to grope your seventeen-year-old daughter. The one who propositioned her, pushed her into a wall to try to force her cooperation, that James Llewyn? The one you wouldn’t believe was sexually assaulting your child in your home?”

  “He didn’t.” No matter how broken and scared she sounds, her temper will break through.

  “He did. Why else would a seventeen-year-old girl put multiple locks on the door?”

  “She already had a lock!” She leans around him and glares at me but Arnowsky gets in her way again.

  “True. The first deadbolt was put on that door when she was eight, by Corey. Why did he do that?”

  “For her privacy.” Her voice hardens.

  “Her door didn’t provide that? Why would she need a deadbolt on a bedroom door? Who did she need to keep out?”

  She growls before admitting, “She…didn’t like my boyfriend.”

  “That’s right, Jake. What was a grown man doing going into a little girl’s room?” Arnowsky taps one of his folders on the wood railing and takes a few steps to the side that lets me see her again.

  “He was trying to be nice to her.”

  “In her bedroom?”

  “She said Jake scared her. It was a lie, he never hurt her. And Jim did not want to with sleep her! She was always saying stuff like that, but he told me it was a lie. Why would he want her? I gave him everything he needed. Everything he asked for.”

  “So, she added two deadbolts over the years because she’s a liar?”

  “I—”

  “You don’t need to answer. Shall we talk about your calls to your son this fall? The ones about using your daughter to make money? Shall we talk—?”

  “Fuck you!” Her yell reverberates in the wood-paneled room.

  There you are.

  “I lost everything because of her, and she thinks she can just leave me to rot? She’s exactly like her father. Ungrateful. She owes me!”

  “Ms. Donahue,” the judge says calmly. “You need to calm down.”

  She ignores him, leaning over the box wall, trying to get in Arnowsky’s face. “You’re making her sound so innocent. What do you think men think when a girl comes into the house with skin tight clothes that barely cover her ass? She was a little tramp from the time she was small. She tried to lure my men, but it never worked. She’s mad now, blaming me, but it’s not my fault he cheated or that no one wants her. She’s just desperate for attention, that’s all this is.”

  There are gasps, but not from me.

  “Are you saying your child dressed like a tramp? If so, who bought her the clothes?” Arnowsky sounds pissed, and her attorney looks on horrified, but I’m not surprised. She’s coming unglued, and frankly, I’m happy someone else is seeing her do it.

  “Yes. She came home in those ridiculous leotards, body suits so tight you could see her ribs.” Her finger shakes as she points at me.

  Arnowsky looks at the floor, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as there’s a groan from the other side of the court. “Are you talking about the dance clothes she wore for practice?” he finally asks.

  “Only a tramp would need to wear those. You’re asking for attention if you’re wearing them.”

  An inhale of horror comes from behind me, but I don’t know who it is. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this, but what hurts me is the flexing of Tyler’s fists, and the anger causing the white knuckles.

  “Your daughter is a whore and deserve
d everything she got because she wore the dance uniform required by her studio?” Arnowsky asks her, looking back at me.

  “It was her choice to be that way.” She gives me a look that says how much she hates me, not recognizing the impact of what she’s saying.

  “Your Honor.” There’s a moment of silence before her attorney stands, looking ten years older. “I believe counsel has made his point.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she yells. Emily stands, shooting daggers at me.

  “You’re right councilor, I have.” Arnowsky turns his back and pats my hand as he sits.

  The judge looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “You’re excused, Ms. Donahue.”

  “I haven’t told you anything. I need to tell you how she back-talked me. How she’d steal food!”

  The judge gives her a hard look. “Ms. Donahue, please step down.”

  Shaking her head, she glares at him. “I will not. I get to say my piece so you’ll know she needs to do what I tell her.”

  “Ms. Donahue”—there’s a subtle nod from the judge to the bailiff, and the judge gives her a stern look—“you’ve given the testimony this court needs to hear. I advise you to step down, now.”

  Emily slams back down in her seat, finger coming up to accuse me with a shaking arm. “That little tramp ruins everything and this business about a rape is bullshit. She wanted whatever happened to her. She’s just crying rape so everyone will feel sorry for her!”

  “Step down.” Steel lining his voice, the judge’s lips press together.

  “I get my day in court.” Her arms cross over her chest, fingers itching the internal scratch she always feels.

  From the back door, two big officers come in, walking behind the bench to where Emily sits. When she realizes they’re there, she panics, trying to dart around the corner of the witness box, but she doesn’t get away, practically walks right into them.

  “Bailiffs, please remove the witness from the court.” Turning an angry glare on her attorney, he says, “I’m not sure, counsel, what you had to gain by submitting this request, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen enough.”

  As soon as they touch her, she shrieks. Struggling with the two officers, she calls the judge names, calls me names, and screams accusations the entire time, threatening that I’ll be sorry for this. We can still hear her when the door closes on her.

  “Your Honor, I apologize for my client’s outburst.” The slick attorney is ashen, shocked by Emily’s tantrum.

  Looking at our table, the judge says, “Mr. Arnowsky, the mother’s petition is denied.” Then he warns the prosecutor, “You’d better have more than ravings innuendo, because the reports and documentation seem to support the patient and her legal team. I’m looking at improperly handled procedures, due process failures, as well as substantive failures on the part of the State at every level.”

  The prosecutor looks like he took a blow to the gut. “Your Honor, I assure you, there will be no such ravings.”

  “Fine. Mr. Lyle, prove to me Ms. Mathews’ civil rights should be abrogated further. Show me why I should allow an involuntary admission to continue.”

  Nodding, the prosecutor rises and without so much as a glance to me, he says, “I call Officer Pattini to the stand.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tyler Blackman

  The officer called to the stand is the guy who grabbed Rayne. The one who didn’t listen and sent her over the edge. The one she bit.

  Hope your hand still hurts, asshole.

  He takes the oath and sits down, a professional mask of superiority that makes me want to punch him. He goes through everything that happened. His view is we were violent, out of control, his disdain clear in every word.

  Arnowsky grills him when it’s our turn, going over his refusal to wait. Pointing out his invasion of the house and how he didn’t even talk to her. How he grabbed her without warning. He’s forced to admit she did calm down when I was allowed to talk to her.

  Frenwhit on the stand is a mess. Instead of giving the impression of someone you’d entrust your loved one with, he seems disoriented and scared. When they go over the hospital records, he tries to imply Rayne has been out of control, but the effort doesn’t last long. Arnowsky stands and hands an outline to him, making him admit Rayne only reacted violently to manhandling, and they ignored protocol and her rape. Two questions are all it takes for him to acknowledge her reaction was reasonable given her trauma. That she ceased defending herself when they stopped violating her personal space.

  It’s Arnowsky who calls Detective Gillete, who tells the court in vivid detail, the situation surrounding the case against Gabe. About the manhunt and what kind of shape she was in when he saw her. He makes it clear he’s furious this situation was allowed to slip through the cracks.

  The judge has questions for him when he tells us that Corey’s videos of Emily has led the police to investigate how and where she got the money.

  When Corey’s called, he grabs Rayne’s hand and gives it a squeeze before taking his oath and laying out the last two decades: what he knows of his mother, his sister, and how things were between us at the beginning of Winter semester.

  “I know my mother, and Emily doesn’t care about anyone enough to do this. It’s too much effort, and she doesn’t have the cash unless someone is bankrolling her. That’s what you need to be looking at.”

  As I’m called to the stand, a strange man is allowed inside and he joins our side of the benches, sitting behind Gillete. I don’t know who he is, but I give him a look before dropping a kiss on Rayne’s head and walking to the witness stand. Facing the bailiff, I look in her eyes as I say, “I do.”

  Arnowsky glances back at Rayne for a moment before asking, “You found Miss Mathews the day of her attack?”

  A flash of silver shoes shining in the rain makes me sick to my stomach. “Yes.”

  “You carried her from the campus to your truck and drove her to the hospital?”

  “Yes.” The wet and cold was nothing to the cold fear in my chest.

  “With a mangled hand?”

  As if that was a relevant factor. “Yes.”

  “What condition was she in?”

  “I—” The shaking starts in my gut and spreads to my limbs.

  “I know it’s difficult, and we don’t need details, but give me your impression, since you were the one who found her.”

  Our eyes connect with mirroring tears, but I shut it down. I can see her then and now, and I can’t find my voice until she gives me a nod of approval.

  “She was bleeding, broken, and initially unconscious. She didn’t realize it was me, and she fought me at first. Until I spoke.”

  “Did she calm once she knew it was you?”

  I choke on my answer, remembering what it was like to try to hold her together without hurting her more. “Yes.”

  “And since?”

  Question, answer, objection. Over and over, the other side has problems with my answers, but they’re the truth.

  “Why you, Tyler?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Why give you a power of attorney? She should have been too upset to worry about that.”

  I scoff. “Hardly. She has been trying to get away from that woman for years. She knows I love her. That I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  For forty-five minutes our side and then their side drill me, trying to make me sound like an asshole, but the facts are ours. Once I’m released, Arnowsky gets ready to call Rayne, but a voice comes from the back of the room.

  The stranger steps forward and requests to come to the bench.

  “I’m counsel for Mr. Lawrence Mathews, the petitioner’s paternal grandfather. We’re entering a motion to grant an order allowing the family who has paid for her upbringing, to be entered as the party with the power to make decisions for his granddaughter. No matter how well-meaning Mr. Blackman may be, he’s still a teenager without the wherewithal and maturity to be responsi
ble for someone else. Mr. Mathews is an upstanding, admired businessman, and as her grandfather, he would be a more suitable guardian.”

  I look at Anne and shake my head.

  Duplicitous bitch.

  Rayne whips around and pure venom soaks the air. If she could reach her, Rayne would rip her throat out. Fortunately, Arnowsky gets a hand on her arm, forcing her to turn forward.

  “Your Honor, I hardly think this motion should be granted serious review. The man in question isn’t even here. If he cared, I would think he would have come or at minimum made some effort to contact our client.”

  “I’m going to allow it to be entered. Miss Mathews’ welfare is at issue, so I’ll at least hear what they have to say.” He waves the new attorney forward. “However, we still need to finish the current issue, so please continue.”

  Rayne stands, clad in a black pantsuit looking like a runway model. Her hand whips up as she swears to tell the truth. She looks stronger than she has in over a month even with an interrogation coming. The passive crumbling doll they brought in, strapped to a wheelchair, and even the broken girl that passed weeks in our home as a ghost of herself, is gone. In her place, a raging fire ready to be released.

  “So, Rayne. How are you?”

  “I’m angry, but other than that, I’m healing.” She snorts at Anne, but looks back at Arnowsky.

  “Healing from what?” he asks her.

  “Both attacks. Among other things, my ribs and finger were broken, so it’s taken a while for them to heal.” She glares at Frenwhit.

  Arnowsky looks back at the officers before continuing. “When the officers came, you still had pain?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did they talk to you?”

  “Nope. I was getting ready to go to class and he”—she points at the officer in the back—“stormed into my bedroom and grabbed me.”

  “Why did you panic?”

  A shiver wracks her body. “I can’t take people touching me right now. I didn’t know him. The idea someone was taking me away from my home was terrifying.”

  Nodding at her, he continues, “And at the hospital, why’d you bite?”