“Your honor!” Cooper’s voice is a panicked stage whisper that carries clearly through the stunned room. “I need to talk to my lawyer. Now!”
I hold up my hand at him, signaling Cooper to wait. “Just give me a minute. We’re nearly finished.” The judge nods.
“So in your opinion, as one of Mr. Cooper’s most trusted employees, do you believe that the payroll practices at Cooper Holdings are in line with the industry, and financially justifiable?”
“Justifiable?” Peterson looks at me like I’m nuts. The rumbling in the gallery gets louder.
“Order in the courtroom, please.” The judge waves at me to continue.
I smile good-naturedly. “Yes, as in, defensible, or appropriate.”
Peterson snorts. “I know what the word means, and no. There is nothing justifiable, defensible or appropriate,” he spits the words out like they burn his tongue, “About his practices. That man would sell his own grandmother if he thought he’d get a quick buck out of it.” Peterson’s voice is full of bitterness.
“I’m sorry, your honor. Mr. Peterson could you—”
Peterson is on a roll and I let him cut me off. “That ratty little bastard hasn’t treated anyone right since he took over the company. He drove his father to an early grave, turning it from a respectable place to work into a crooked death trap.”
His knuckles whiten as he stands to his full height and grips the podium. “Health regs. Overtime. Careers. We’re just bugs for him to step on when it suits him. He thinks I don’t understand why he asks me to keep the books like we do, but I wasn’t born yesterday, you bastard!” His voice turns shrill and cracks while it rises in a scary crescendo. I’d expected him to get aggressive, but this is starting to go off the rails.
The mood was already tense, and Peterson’s words are just adding fuel to the fire. The courtroom rumbles behind me. “Bastard.” “Slimeball.” Angry words filter through the hum.
Cooper’s looking like a frightened animal, cornered in its own den and I don’t fucking blame him. Some of those guys look ready to climb over the railing and give him their own personal flavor of justice.
The cameras roll, catching everything. Claire, I hope you’re seeing this.
I clear my throat loudly. “Mr. Peterson, I don’t think this is—”
“No, sir, I think this is!” He’s fucking shaking, like he’s gonna explode. “This scumbag ruined my career. He ruined a lot of careers. He’s driving the whole damn company into the ground, and when the new layoffs get announced tomorrow, he’s going to ruin a whole assload more!”
What? Layoffs? I didn’t even know about that. Holy shit. The rapidly growing rumble behind me tells me that the workers didn’t know either.
And then everything happens at once.
“Mr. Peterson!” The judge bangs the gavel, calling the court to order.
A huge bear of a man in the crowd tears himself loose with a roar from the restraining grasp of his only slightly less crazed looking friends and leaps for the railing.
Cooper doesn’t notice, maybe because he’s coming for me, rushing out from around our table. His eyes are sparking in fury and his fists are tightly clenched. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to do, but he never gets to do it. The giant from the crowd tackles him from behind before the guards can get to him. They go down over the stenographer’s table, smashing it to splinters with their weight, while she launches herself out of her chair with a scream.
They roll across the floor to right in front of me, and Cooper gets a fist right to the nose, sending blood spurting over everything. I step to the side, arms raised. I’d love nothing more than to throw myself into the melee, but this is their fight now, not mine.
Everything’s out of fucking control. It’s not a court case, it’s a barroom brawl. More angry people pour over the railing. Judge Bailey’s banging his gavel like he’s trying to break through his desk. “Order! Order!” Police officers stream into the room, pushing their way past eager press crews who are probably creaming their fucking pants at this footage.
Dave quietly stands and starts making his way along the wall to the back of the room. He throws me a look like “holy shit” and gets himself behind the police. Smart guy.
I’m about to follow, when I see a familiar bounce of red hair flash at the back of the courtroom. What the fuck? She’s supposed to be home watching my triumphant downfall on TV, not about to get flattened by a fucking riot.
For a moment the crowd parts and I see her face. She’s watching me with a mix of confusion and terror, and then the next thing I know, she disappears in a wave of angry workers who break through the doors and flood into the room. Jesus Christ. The only danger I’d planned for was to my career. Where the fuck did she go? I scan the room. Not among the press, not at the door, not at—