Chapter 13 - Her Version of the Fall
Vanessa wore gray to court.
Not pink.
Her hair was pulled back. Her jewelry was simple. She looked like a woman who had come to dispute a parking ticket.
I hated how much thought someone had put into making her look harmless.
The prosecutor called me on the second day.
I walked past Ethan without looking at him.
June had told me to keep my answers clear.
Listen.
Pause.
Tell the truth.
I could do that.
I hoped.
The prosecutor asked what I had seen.
I described the tray.
Oliver’s blue shirt.
Vanessa’s words.
The way her hands opened.
“Did she appear to lose her balance?”
“No.”
“Did she attempt to catch the child?”
“No.”
“Why did you drop the tray?”
“Because I couldn’t catch him while I was holding it.”
Then Vanessa’s attorney stood.
He was pleasant at first.
Almost kind.
“You’re not a child-care professional, are you, Ms. Brooks?”
“No.”
“You don’t have children?”
“No.”
“So you’re not familiar with how suddenly a baby can move.”
“I know people can move suddenly.”
“Please answer my question.”
“I don’t have children.”
He walked toward the jury.
“You were frightened.”
“Yes.”
“And frightened people sometimes misinterpret what they see.”
“I can tell you what I saw.”
He lifted a document.
“Mr. Bennett paid you money after this incident.”
“He paid expenses related to my injury and the work I missed.”
“Several thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve spent time at his home.”
“With his son and his sister.”
“Do you consider him a friend?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa watched me without blinking.
The attorney paused just long enough to make friendship sound dirty.
“Isn’t it possible that your loyalty to Mr. Bennett has affected your memory?”
“No.”
“Not even slightly?”
“I gave the same account before I knew his last name.”
He glanced at his notes.
Then he brought up the diner.
The cash advance.
Every ugly thing Paul had fed them.
I answered.
Abby would testify later.
The payroll records were already in evidence.
Still, by the time he stopped, I felt scraped raw.
The prosecutor stood again.
“One final question. What did Ms. Price say immediately before the child fell?”
I looked at the jury.
“‘Get rid of it.’”
A juror in the back row closed her eyes.
The prosecutor nodded.
“No further questions.”
As I stepped down, Vanessa leaned toward her attorney.
She whispered too loudly.
“I told him she’d make herself the hero.”
May you like
The courtroom heard.
And so did the jury.
