eyes narrowed. “A year.”
“And how long, in fact, were you away?”
“Almost four years.”
“Four years.”
She stood there, palms on the stand, nodding. “Did you ever come home for a visit during that time?”
“No.” Blake’s face was impassive.
“But you spoke with your father often? Holidays, Sundays, and so on. You were, after all, his only child.”
“I was, yes.”
Bingo. He hadn’t answered the first question. Her interpretation of the expression she’d read earlier had been right on. It was a talent she’d come to rely on and breathed a sigh of relief every time it came through for her.
“And did you speak with him often?”
“No.”
“You didn’t?” She sounded shocked. “Well, how often then? Once a month? Twice, maybe?”
“I spoke to him once.”
“Once a year?”
“Once. Period.”
“In four years you spoke to your father only once?”
“Objection, Your Honor!”
It had taken him long enough.
“Your Honor—” Juliet stepped up to the bench “—Mr. Schuster’s line of questioning was based on Mr. Ramsden’s opinion of his father. I’m only clarifying the relationship upon which that opinion was based.”
“Sustained.”
In the early days, Juliet would have turned around to see Schuster’s reaction. Such things didn’t matter anymore.
“Just out of curiosity, would you mind telling the court when that one phone call took place?”
“A year after I’d left.”
“When you were due to come home.”
“That is correct.” He nodded once, his gaze steady on hers. The challenge only spurred a rush of adrenaline that had given her the edge up most of her life.
“So…if your father’s business acumen had changed, say, due to old age, or perhaps a growing forgetfulness or loneliness for his only son, maybe you wouldn’t have known.”
The room was silent. Juliet could feel the jurors’ eyes, but even more, the force of their attention.
“I was in touch with my mother. She never indicated that was the case.”
Had she been playing a game of mock court, as she’d done with members of her study group in law school, she’d have issued a polite and grinning thank you very much for the opening he’d just given her.
“Ah, your mother. How did she take your absence?”
“Naturally, she missed me.”
“Naturally. As, I assume, did your father.”
Blake didn’t answer. She didn’t push.
“Would you think it possible, knowing your mother as well as you did, realizing the difficult position she must have been in, that she could have colored the truth just a bit? Perhaps she focused on the Honduran children as your father’s reason for the purchase just to play on your sympathies, to bridge the gap between the two of you. To make you feel you still had his support?”
“My mother did not lie.”
“I didn’t say she did, Mr. Ramsden. I asked if it was possible that certain aspects of the Eaton deal took on more significance for her than others?”
He stared straight at her. And there was anger in his eyes.
“Please answer the question.”
“It’s possible.”
“That said, it’s also possible that she misinterpreted the other things she relayed about this particular business transaction. Perhaps even to use it as leverage to bring you home.”
“No.”
“Did you know, Mr. Ramsden, that a letter was sent from Eaton James to all the Eaton Estates investors, telling them of their loss?”
“Yes, it arrived a couple of days after my mother called to ask me to visit the property.”
“It was postmarked two days before.”
“It arrived two days after.”
“Or not.” Juliet stepped back. “It’s possible, Mr. Ramsden, that your mother already knew the land was worthless when she called to have you check it out, isn’t it?”
“It’s highly unlikely.”
“But possible.”
His chin dropped again, more slowly this time. And then rose again. “Yes.”
Juliet turned, as though going back to her seat. And then, three-quarters of the way there, she turned back.
“One other thing.” She saved lives by playing the barracuda. And right now, the future of an admittedly stupid but innocent businessman was on the line. “Your father died of a heart attack the next year, did he not?”
“He did.”
“He was driving at the time.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother was in the car.”
“Yes.”
“You lost them both. I’m so sorry.” She looked down. Thought about Eaton’s wife—and teenage children—sitting behind them. The lives she was attempting to save.
Blake said nothing.
“Did you realize your mother knew about your father’s bad heart?”
“Not until I got home.”
“But she knew. Had known for almost two years.”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t you think that knowing her husband could go at any moment might be motivation enough to do whatever it took to get her only son home?”
She’d done what she’d been hired to do. She’d discredited his testimony. And lost his respect.
For the first time in her life, Juliet hated her job.
“No more questions, Your
