She leaned into me. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
We finished up our tasks and then prepared to leave. We had an appointment with the attorney to prepare for the upcoming trial. English was a witness, as was I, so we were reviewing the questions he would ask, along with the possible defense questions.
Ryan Cooper and Clayton Summers were in the office conference room, along with two paralegals, when we arrived. Since Clayton was the expert on criminal law, he was handling the trial. We were ushered in and offered refreshments before we began.
“English, I want you to be as prepared as possible for this,” Clayton said.
“As do I.”
“Tristian told us you are aware they will do their best to rattle you.”
She pressed her lips together. “Let them try.”
We spent several hours, reviewing again and again what might take place. English drummed her fingers on the table and sighed. “Clayton, can I stop you there? I understand what their goal is. I won’t let them. My memory is fine on what happened that night. You don’t have to be bothered about it. I will handle it.”
Clayton glanced over at me and I nodded. “English is very capable. She can and will do this.”
“All right. If you two are comfortable with this, then so am I.”
We left the office and in the car, English vented. “He treated me like I was stupid.”
“No, he wanted to make sure you were okay with everything.”
“Tristian, I’m not five. I had a brain injury. Everyone acts like I don’t know anything.”
“You’re overreacting. Clayton hasn’t seen you since before the accident. He didn’t know the extent of your memory loss.” My comment elicited a pout. Her lower lip stuck out and I chuckled. “You look like Easton now.”
“Do not.”
I reached over and gently squeezed her thigh. “You do. Don’t worry, you’re very cute when you pout.”
“Stop. I don’t want to be cute.”
“What do you want to be?”
“Treated like an adult.”
“Hmm. I can’t imagine what we did in bed last night wasn’t adulting.”
“Tristian!” She slapped my hand playfully. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, but everyone else is treating you as adult, English. You need to cut them some slack. They’ve been really worried about you. I’ll be honest, the way you snap at others makes people walk on eggshells around you.”
She didn’t respond immediately. We drove on in silence. I hated to tell her that, but somebody had to. She wanted to be treated as an adult, so that was what I’d done.
“I’m sorry. I have been acting out. You get the brunt of it too and for that I apologize.”
“I appreciate that, but consider your words and actions before you speak and act. Your child needs her mother back. I won’t pretend to understand your emotions where she is involved.”
“Where is the ‘but?’”
“I don’t want you to alienate her. Her behavior toward you has already changed.”
“I see it. From the things I remember, she’s different.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
English chewed on the tip of her thumbnail, a habit that had increased since the accident. “You know what? I need some mommy-daughter time.”
“That’s a great idea and she’ll be excited.”
“Where are we going?”
“To see Stanton and Landry. I hope you don’t mind, but there is news. I didn’t want to upset you but your accident and my father’s… well, it seems they weren’t accidents after all.”
“I know mine wasn’t. The brakes and then being run off the road were sure signs, but your father’s too?”
“Yeah. After what happened to you, I knew there had to be a connection. We hired a private investigator to dig into Stanton’s car, so I called and made sure they were aware of your accident too.”
“And? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
English didn’t know who the silver Mercedes that had run her off the road belonged to, but I did. And there was going to be a confrontation over it today.
We turned onto the road, where the accident occurred. “Do you remember this road?”
“Yeah, I do. I remember when that car sped by and I lost control thinking about whether I had tightened Easton’s harness enough. But that’s it.”
“Do you recall bringing Easton out for her riding lesson?”
“Vaguely. I get flashes of her on the horse, laughing, and of Landry leading the horse around. I also have odd pieces of conversation about horse poop.”
That had me laughing. Landry had told me about how Easton wanted a pet horse, but they’d talked her out of it by showing her the manure pile. I explained it to English.
“No wonder I keep getting those bits of poop conversations. Leave it to my daughter.”
We arrived at the circular drive in front of the house and Landry came out to greet us. He enfolded English in a warm hug. “You have no idea how great it is to see you and looking so well too.”
“Thank you. I need to visit you more often.”
“I don’t know about that. Look what happened the last time you were here.”
“That had nothing to do with you.” English tried to ease his concerns.
“I hope you don’t blame me. And I miss that daughter of yours. Give her a big hug from me.”
Stanton was waiting for us in Dad’s old office. He looked better than ever, but still had the crutch and boot.
“How’s the leg?” I asked.
“Better and better. I hope to get rid of this soon.” He tapped his boot with the crutch.
“It’s great you’re maneuvering the stairs now. Are you going to go back to work, as in the office?”
“Maybe in a couple of weeks. I’ll wait and see.”
I was very happy to hear it. “So don’t keep us in suspense. Fill us in on what’s going on.”
After everyone was seated, he pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to me. “Everything is in there, but the bottom line is the power steering was tampered with. That’s most likely why I lost control. Whoever did this knew I drove fast and would possibly have an accident.”
I flipped through the multitude of pages, scanning them until I got to the summary statement, verifying what Stanton said. Two things stood out. If he had been driving the speed limit or slower, he might have maintained control of the car. Might have, not would have. One of his tires had also blown. The investigators concluded they could not tell if the accident had caused it or it tampering had.
“There is someone rotten in our woodpile and I know who it is.” All eyes turned to me for answers.
Chapter Fifty
English
Tristian had just pointed a finger at one of his own family. That was a huge accusation.
“Tris, you think it was Sherman?” Stanton asked in disbelief.
“Nope, not him. Closer to home than that.”