Page 107 of The Right to Remain

“Objection,” said the prosecutor. “There’s no evidence that this witness has ever met and said two words to C. J. Vandermeer, let alone had personal knowledge of his financial situation.”

Jack’s eyes never left the witness. There was a telltale smirk on her face, and it had been most noticeable when the prosecutor had said the witness “never met” C. J. Vandermeer. It was risky to pursue a line of questioning based on a smirk, but Jack followed his instinct.

“You knew him, didn’t you?”

The smirk returned. She didn’t answer right away, and the pause emboldened Jack.

“You knew C. J. Vandermeer. Didn’t you, Ms. Carpenter?”

The prosecutor suddenly seemed flummoxed, as if Jack were uncovering details that the witness had never shared with her. But there was no basis to object.

“Yeah. I knew CJ.”

“‘CJ’? So, you’re on a first-name basis?”

The prosecutor was suddenly on high alert. “I fail to see the relevance of any of these questions.”

“Your objection is noted,” said Jack, and then he pressed his point with the witness. “Ms. Carpenter, you and C. J. Vandermeer were friends, weren’t you?”

Serena simply couldn’t hide that smirk. It was “interesting,” Jack thought, the way rubbing elbows with rich people could make some people feel so important.

“You might call us friends,” she said.

“So, when you demanded two hundred fifty thousand dollars from the Pollards you were really extorting yourfriend, C. J. Vandermeer. Right?”

“Objection. Her testimony was ‘mightcall us friends.’”

Jack ignored it. “You and CJ were friends in what way, Ms. Carpenter?”

“Again, I object. I don’t see how any of this is relevant to the charges against Elliott Stafford.”

The prosecutor was clearly uncomfortable with Jack’s delving into Serena’s relationship with CJ. Either she knew where this line of questioning was leading—or she feared it. Either way, Jack wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“You can answer,” Jack told the witness.

“If you remember,” said the prosecutor.

The old “if you remember” trick. It was enough to make Jack blow his stack. Lawyers did it all the time, but it was witness-coaching, plain and simple, and it always prompted the same response.

“I really don’t remember,” said Serena.

“Seriously?” said Jack. “You can’t tell me the nature of your friendship with C. J. Vandermeer?”

“The witness just told you she doesn’t remember,” said the prosecutor.

“That’s right,” said Serena. “I don’t remember.”

Jack could have continued to hammer away, but rather than answer his question, the witness was more likely to retract what she’d already given him. And she’d given him plenty for follow-up after the deposition.

Jack leaned forward, rested his forearms on the table, and looked the witness in the eye. “I have just one more question for you, Ms. Carpenter. Do you love your son?”

Her eyes were like lasers. “Myson?You want to know if I lovemy son? What kind of a question is that?”

“A pretty simple one,” said Jack. “If you can remember the answer.”

The prosecutor grumbled. “Objection. Now you’re just badgering the witness. Ma’am, you don’t have to answer that question.”

Jack settled back in his chair. “I think she already has,” he said.