The gallery buzzed louder, a low hum of shock.
Tripp shot to his feet.“Objection, Your Honor!The state is insinuating, without foundation, that Mrs.Reddick is implicated in this crime.She is not on trial here.”
Nicole pivoted toward the bench, keeping her voice calm though adrenaline surged through her veins.“Your Honor, this is directly relevant to possession and access — the jury is entitled to hear it.”
Judge Price rapped his gavel again.“The objection is noted.The witness’s answer will stand.The jury will consider it for what it’s worth.”
Nicole inclined her head.“Thank you, Your Honor.”She turned back.
She wanted to press further.To ask the questions clawing at her: Could Evelyn have been the killer?Why was her gun used?Or was this just a red herring to throw her?But strategy held her back.The answers would come, but not yet.Not today.
She drew herself up, her mask of composure flawless.“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Mr.Masterson, you may cross-examine the witness.”
As she walked back to her table, her legs felt unsteady beneath her.She sat, clasped her hands on the desk, and forced her breathing into rhythm.
Inside, though, her mind spun.
Her gaze flicked across the courtroom to Tripp.He was staring at her, his eyes dark, unreadable.But she knew him well enough to recognize the storm gathering behind them.
All the signs had pointed to Derrick Reddick, not his mother, and yet suddenly she was having doubts.And she’d latched onto Derrick being the killer and had not properly vetted his mother, because the woman didn’t appear to have opportunity.Derrick did.
Nicole’s throat tightened.This case wasn’t just about Bianca anymore.It was about patterns.Families who thought they could control their lives.Mothers who decided whose love was acceptable and whose was disposable.
She forced herself to sit straighter, to face forward.The jury couldn’t see her doubt.They had to see her as steady, unshaken.
But inside, she knew the trial had just changed course.
And Evelyn Reddick’s perfect mask was starting to crack.Had she killed Bianca?
Chapter16
The words still reverberated through the courtroom like a gunshot.
The firearm was registered to Mrs.Evelyn Reddick.
Derrick’s mother.
Tripp rose slowly, smoothing his jacket, every motion deliberate.He couldn’t afford a flicker of hesitation, not here, not in front of twelve jurors staring at him with wide eyes, waiting to see if the revelation had absolved his case.
He glanced once at the gallery.Evelyn Reddick sat rigid, pearls gleaming at her throat, expression fixed in icy composure.To anyone else, she appeared to be a society matron enduring an inconvenience.But Tripp saw what others might miss: a hard glint in her eyes, the subtle lift of her chin.
Control.Denial.Power dressed in silk.
She reminded him so much of his own mother that it scraped raw against old wounds.
Was it possible?
Could she have done to her son what Tripp’s mother had done to him and Nicole?
He forced the thought down and approached the witness stand.His voice, when it came, was calm and precise.
“Mr.Daniels, you testified this firearm was a .38 revolver, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“This type of revolver, is it rare?”
