“The town.” Simon shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could see my face better. “She said, and I’m quoting here,‘I know everything that goes on in this town. Everything.’She was very dramatic about it.”
Despite everything, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. “Beatrice Allen wants to testify as an expert witness on Diamond Creek gossip?”
“That’s what I thought.” Simon laughed, shaking his head. “I told her being the town gossip isn’t exactly a recognized expertise in a criminal trial.”
“It’s not,” I agreed, but something was nagging at the back of my mind. Something about the way he’d said it.
“Yeah, well, my mom had a different opinion.” Simon settled back against the pillows, pulling the sheets up higher. “She brought upMy Cousin Vinny,” Simon said, and now he was grinning. “You know, the movie? Marisa Tomei’s character testifies as an expert on cars even though she’s just a mechanic’s daughter who grew up around them. Mom said there’s an element of truth in every movie, and if anyone in Diamond Creek qualified as an expert on the people in this town, it’s Beatrice Allen.”
I stared at him, my mind already working through the implications.
“I know,” Simon said, misreading my expression. “It’s ridiculous. I told her it was a movie, not real life, but—”
“No,” I interrupted, my mind already racing. “No, it’s not ridiculous.”
Simon blinked. “What?”
I got out of bed, the cool air hitting my skin as I threw off the sheets. I started pacing, my mind spinning through case law and precedent. “Beatrice Allen has lived in Diamond Creek for what, sixty years? Seventy?”
“Eighty,” Simon said, watching me from the bed with an amused expression.
“She knows everyone. She knows their histories, their relationships, their reputations.” I turned to face him. “She would have known Alan Sanders. She would have seen him around town with Sadie.”
Simon sat up straighter, the sheets falling away from his chest. “She did. She’s the one who first told me something was wrong. She noticed the bruises before I did.”
My pulse quickened. “She noticed the bruises?”
“Yeah. She pulled me aside one day and said Sadie was covering something up, that she’d seen marks on her arms.” Simon’s voice softened. “That’s when I started paying closer attention.”
“So Beatrice Allen observed the abuse firsthand,” I said slowly, the pieces clicking into place. I climbed back into bed, unable to stay away from him, and he immediately shifted to make room. “She saw the physical evidence. She can testify to Sadie’s behavior changes, to Alan’s controlling nature, to the pattern of isolation.”
“But she’s not a psychologist or a social worker,” Simon protested. “She’s just—”
“An expert on this community,” I finished, reaching over to grab my phone from the nightstand. “On the people in it, their behaviors, their patterns. Federal Rule of Evidence 702 allows expert testimony if the witness has specialized knowledge that will help the jury understand the evidence. Beatrice Allen’s ‘specialized knowledge’ is eighty-plus years of observing human behavior in Diamond Creek.”
Simon was staring at me now, his eyes wide in the dim light of the bedroom. “You’re serious.”
“Your mother’s right.” I pulled up my notes app, my fingers flying across the screen. “There’s precedent for this. Kumho Tire Co. v. Carmichael expanded the definition of expert testimony beyond scientific knowledge. Experience-based expertise is admissible if it’s reliable and relevant.”
“So you’re going to call her?”
“I’m going to call her,” I confirmed, already thinking through the strategy. I set the phone down and turned to face him fully, my excitement barely contained. “Rosalind will object, obviously. But if I can establish Beatrice’s qualifications. Her years in the community and her observations of Sadie and Alan, along with her knowledge of local dynamics. Judge Markham might allow it. But at the very least, she’s an eyewitness to what Sadie experienced.”
Simon reached over and pulled me back down to the bed, his fingers threading through my hair. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in, letting myself have this moment of connection before the trial consumed us again.
“All rise.”
The bailiff’s voice pulled me back to the courtroom as Judge Markham entered, and we all stood. I glanced at Simon, who stood beside me with his hands clasped together in front of him, his expression carefully neutral. I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched. Seeing the carefully hidden homophobia in the town he felt comfortable in had hurt him.
I wanted to reach out to him. To touch him, to reassure him.
But I couldn’t. Not here.
“Be seated,” Judge Markham said. “Mr. Gallagher, you may call your next witness.”
I stood, buttoning my jacket. “The defense calls David Nelson to the stand.”
