Star Witness (21 page)

“Not quite all that happened,” Harte muttered between gritted teeth. “Where’s Dani? Is she all right?”

Ethan nodded, his expression turning more serious. “She’s fine. The EMTs examined her at the scene and released her. You, on the other hand, have a great big surgery to recuperate from. By the way, the nurse also told me you’d be too drowsy to make sense.” Ethan’s frown faded. “I see she was right about that.”

“I’m fine,” Harte muttered. The nurse was correct. He could barely hold his eyes open and he had to concentrate like mad to keep up with what Ethan was saying. But there was no way he was going to let his older brother know that.

“Fine,” he repeated, looking out the window. He couldn’t see anything but sky and the top of a portion of the New Orleans skyline. He didn’t even try to figure out what direction the window faced. “What time is it?”

“Six-twenty.”

He stared at his brother, then blinked and gave his head a shake. “Six-twenty?”

Ethan’s mouth turned up. “Twenty minutes after six.”

“P.m.?” He reached up to rub his forehead, where the groggy haze seemed centered, and discovered that his hand had an IV hooked up to it. He growled.

“Here,” Ethan said, picking up the cup again. “Drink some more water before you fall asleep.”

This time, he reached for the cup, but the IV tubing that was inserted in his hand got caught in the bedclothes. Ethan untangled it and handed him the cup.

Harte sipped slowly. His stomach didn’t feel great, but the water—a little water—helped. “Thanks,” he said.

Ethan took the cup from his hand and set it down on the rolling table. “You’re going to fall asleep and spill that all over yourself.”

“Six-twenty,” Harte said thoughtfully. “I’ve been here all day? When can we leave?”

Ethan shook his head indulgently. “Not so fast, kid. You haven’t been here all day. You’ve been here since Saturday morning. Today’s Sunday.”

Harte stared at him in horror. “Sunday? What happened to Saturday?”

“You spent a lot of Saturday unconscious. They sedated you so they could give you blood. Then they took you into surgery. The doctor said you wouldn’t remember anything, and I guess he’s right.”

“What about—the—trial?” Harte was having a lot of trouble staying awake.

“The trial’s been set to start Thursday.”

“Okay. I can be—ready by Thursday.”

Ethan laughed. “Oh, trust me, kid. You will not be ready by Thursday. The D.A. has got another prosecutor working twenty-four-seven to get up to speed.”

“What?” Harte tried to sit up, but couldn’t. “My case!”

“Hey,” Ethan said, patting the sheet near Harte’s hand. “You don’t need to worry about the trial. You just need to rest and get better.” He stood. “I’m going to go tell the nurses that you’re awake, then I’ll head out. Mom will probably be over later to see you.”

“Wait,” Harte said. “Where’s Dani? She been here?”

“Nope. She’s in protective custody, remember? She’s not allowed to go anywhere.”

“I want to see her. Make sure she’s all right.” Harte tried to sit up. He put most of his weight on his right arm. With a lot of effort and a lot of pain, he managed to scoot a little more upright in the bed.

“Hang on,” Ethan said with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re going to rip out all of the doctor’s pretty stitching.” He leaned over and pressed a button on the console that hung from the bed rail. The head of the bed rose, pushing Harte into a more upright, seated position.

“Thanks,” he said. “I need to see Dani.”

“She’s just fine. If you’re going to be stubborn, I’ll call the head nurse. I think she was a drill sergeant.”

“Call her.”

“Harte, you haven’t seen this nurse—at least not that you remember.”

As if she were summoned by Ethan’s threat, the door to Harte’s room opened and a large, imposing woman in white slacks and an incongruous lavender scrub shirt with pink puppies and kittens on it entered. She had an IV bag in her sizeable hands.

“Mr. Delancey, you’re awake.” The nurse leveled a glare at Ethan, then the badge pinned to his jacket pocket. “And
you
are still here.” Stepping around the bed and past Ethan, she replaced the nearly empty IV bag with the new one and adjusted the flow.

Then she inspected the IV cannula in Harte’s hand, walked around to the other side of the bed and looked at the large bandage that covered from just beneath the collarbone to his upper abdomen. Then she lifted her head and peered through the lower half of her glasses at the LED screen of the heart monitor mounted above the bed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice gentler than her physical presence might suggest. “Having any pain?”

He gave a halfhearted right-shoulder shrug. “I’m okay,” he said.

She looked up at Ethan. “I’m going to give him a dose of morphine. I’d suggest you go interrogate somebody who’s up and around.” When she glanced back at Harte, he saw a fleeting glint of amusement in her eyes. “My patient here needs to rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes in Harte’s direction. “I’ll be back later, kid.” He stood, leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of Harte’s head, sent a quelling look at the nurse when she grinned at his sentimental gesture and left.

“There you go,” the nurse said as she pressed a button on the IV flow meter of a second bag that was piggybacked into the first. “A nice little boost of morphine.”

“Not too much,” Harte murmured. He could already feel the drug doing its job.

“You aren’t getting too much. You’re getting just the right amount. You’d better sleep while you can. Tomorrow morning, your nurse is going to make you get up and walk.”

“How soon can I get out of here?” he asked.

“I’ll let you and the doctor talk about that.” She nodded toward the door. “So, I suppose that was your brother? Nice guy. You and he must be close. You look like twins.”

“He wishes he was as good-looking as me,” Harte muttered, unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He heard the nurse chuckle as she went out of the room.

Chapter Seventeen

Dani sat in the courtroom, waiting for the judge and jury to enter. The jury had reported about an hour ago that they had reached a verdict.

The judge entered and, in doing so, stopped the idle chatter in the courtroom. He stepped up behind the bench and spoke to the prosecution’s attorneys and then to the defense’s, ensuring that they were ready to proceed.

“Bailiff, you may bring in the jury,” the judge said.

“Your Honor?” asked Natalie Shallowford, the attorney the D.A. had assigned to take over for Harte. “May I approach?”

The judge nodded and so she did so, along with Felix Drury, the defense attorney. After a short, quiet conversation, the judge nodded and the two attorneys returned to their seats.

Dani heard the door to the courtroom open and saw the judge nod to whoever had come in. Most of the observers turned around, then started murmuring.

The judge pounded his gavel. “Quiet!” he demanded. “Welcome back, Mr. Delancey.”

Dani’s heart pounded. She half turned, but because she was just behind the prosecution’s table, she couldn’t see at first. Then she heard footsteps and a slight metallic creaking sound.

Natalie Shallowford opened the gate and a court officer wheeled Harte Delancey, in a wheelchair, through the gate and over to the prosecution’s table.

Dani looked at him for the first time since he’d been taken away by ambulance almost a week ago. He was pale and drawn, and his eyes had circles under them. His arm was in a dark blue sling. Her heart squeezed with compassion. He’d come very close to dying, she knew. Lucas had told her it had been a long surgery to remove the bullet that had clipped the upper edge of his lung, near his heart.

Once the bullet was out, Lucas had told her, everything was fine and he would recover quickly. But he didn’t look recovered yet. She wasn’t sure why Lucas had let him come to court. It would be exhausting for him.

The jury came in and the judge quickly ran through their duties and responsibilities. Then, finally, he asked for the verdict.

The foreman stood. “As to count one, murder in the first degree, we the jury find the defendant, Ernest W. Yeoman—not guilty.”

Dani’s heart sank.
Not guilty.
She’d expected it, but the two words still cut like a knife.

Ernest Yeoman, standing behind the defense table, pumped a fist in the air. Felix Drury, his powerhouse attorney, laid a subtle hand on his arm. Yeoman straightened as the foreman continued.

“As to the second count, conspiracy to commit murder—”

Dani braced herself. Based on the way the trial had gone, she figured aggravated assault was the best they could hope for.

“We the jury find the defendant, Ernest W. Yeoman...” The foreman paused. “Guilty.”

The courtroom was suddenly abuzz with whisperings, mumblings and a few shouts, gasps and cheers.

The judge banged his gavel and the din quieted as the foreman went on to read guilty verdicts for conspiracy to commit aggravated assault on two public officials and conspiracy to kidnap a public official.

It took Dani a split second to process everything the foreman had said. They’d done it. Yeoman was going to prison. Based on the verdicts, it sounded as though he’d be in prison for a very long time.

She felt light-headed. Then she realized that quite a bit of the noise in the courtroom was coming from the defendant’s table.

Yeoman was up in his attorney’s face. “What the hell?” he shouted. “You incompetent son of—”

The judge pounded his gavel. “Silence!” he snapped. “Silence. Guards!”

The guards were already on Yeoman. They grabbed him and cuffed him. All the while Yeoman continued to curse Drury.

Felix Drury, on the other hand, had abandoned his attempt to quiet his client. “Your Honor! Your Honor! May I approach the bench?” he shouted over his client’s curses and the gallery’s whispers and mumblings.

The judge was ignoring Yeoman. He looked at Drury over his glasses. “No, you may not.” He banged the gavel again and shouted, “This court is adjourned.” He thanked the jurors, then stood and left the courtroom.

Natalie Shallowford turned to Dani. She smiled and held her arms out.

Dani came around through the gate and hugged her. “Great job,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

“Oh, honey, Harte had all the paperwork in order. And your testimony, not only about the night of your grandfather’s death, but your ordeal the night of the storm, cinched it.”

“Oh,” she said, gripping the bar that divided the courtroom from the visitors’ gallery. She covered her mouth with her hand.

“Dani, are you okay?”

She nodded. “I am. For the first time since the night Granddad died, I’m okay.” She blinked away the burning behind her eyelids. “He’s really going to prison.”

Natalie squeezed her shoulder. “I’m so glad. And don’t forget, the three men who attacked your grandfather are going to prison too, on plea agreements.”

Dani nodded. “Thank you again, Natalie.”

Natalie waved a hand, then turned to pick up the piles of papers and cram them into her briefcase.

Dani turned toward Harte. Her knees felt weak and she had to grasp the back of a chair to steady herself. She hadn’t seen him since the EMTs had put him in the ambulance at Paul Guillame’s house. She’d been locked up in that damned hotel room while he’d lain in the hospital fighting for his life.

He looked so awful. Pale and thin and—almost breakable. And it was her fault. He’d protected her and doing so had nearly killed him.

He smiled the crooked smile that made her heart hurt. Somehow, she managed to walk up to him, even though her knees still felt boneless.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Your surgery was only four days ago.” A movement to Harte’s left caught her eye. It was Lucas, approaching. She turned an accusing gaze on him. “He shouldn’t be here,” she snapped.

“Yeah? Try telling him that,” Lucas shot back. “I’ll be outside.” He put his hand on Harte’s shoulder. “Try not to undo all the work the surgeon did, okay, kid?”

Harte gave him a brief nod. “I wanted to be here,” he said. His voice sounded hollow. “So, Natalie did a great job. Congratulations. Yeoman’s going to prison.”

“She said you did all the work,” she responded.

He shrugged, then winced. “So you can go home now. No more ‘incarceration.’”

“Yeah. I’m not even sure I believe Yeoman’s really going to prison yet. It’s a lot to process.” She gestured toward Harte’s arm. “So how—how are you doing?” she asked, working to keep her tone light.

An odd expression flickered across his face. “I’m doing okay. Mom’s taking care of me.”

She noticed his hand was white-knuckled on the chair arm. “I’m glad,” she said. “Let her spoil you.”

“I don’t have much of a choice right now.”

She nodded, looking at his hand, wanting so badly to touch it. “Lucas told me that the surgery was touch-and-go—” Her voice gave out. She cleared her throat. “I mean—”

He inclined his head. “It was, although I didn’t know it until it was all over. The first thing I remember after they put me in the ambulance is waking up in the hospital. Ethan was there, looking exhausted and worried.”

“Everybody was worried about you.”

The crooked smile played about his mouth again. But the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I know,” he said. “A lot of people came by—and called.”

Dani winced. “I wanted to call. I asked Lucas about you, but he said your family was there. And that’s who you needed. You needed to rest and get better with your parents and your brothers around you.” The more she said, the lamer her excuses sounded. But what was she supposed to say?

Get well soon? Thanks for keeping me alive and for taking a bullet for me? By the way, did the mind-blowing sex mean anything to you?

She’d been his star witness. He’d taken care of her, protected her, made sure the bad guys didn’t kill her. He’d have been here in the prosecutor’s chair, fighting for justice for her granddad, if he’d been able. But it was over now. He’d done what he had to do. He’d go back to being a prosecutor and a Delancey, and she’d go back to being a public defender.