"Mr. Huttington, were you asked by Coach O'Toole for a public name-clearing hearing at the university following his suspension by the ACAA?" he asked as the court reporter resumed tapping away.
Huttington glanced at his attorney, Barnhill, who nodded.
"Yes, I was," the university president answered.
"And what was your reply?"
"Objection to the form of the question," Barnhill said. "President Huttington is a representative of the university; any reply was officially that of the university."
Meyers gave Barnhill an "are you serious" look. The university attorney had been a pain in the ass throughout the deposition-frequently objecting or touching Huttington on the arm to indicate he wanted to confer before answering the most mundane questions.
"Okay, then," Meyers sighed. "What was the university's official reply through its representative President Huttington when Coach O'Toole asked for a name-clearing hearing at the university?"
Huttington looked at Barnhill, who indicated that they should once again turn away from the others and discuss his answer. When the pair had their backs to him, Meyers rolled his eyes at O'Toole and Marlene. They both smiled and shook their heads; even the court reporter put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.
The deposition was taking place in a meeting room next to Huttington's office at the University of Northwestern Idaho in Sawtooth. Meyers could have demanded that the university representatives come to his office, but given the cramped quarters there, he'd agreed to meet at the university. "Besides," he said, "I think it was enough of a shock when I filed notice that Butch Karp, who just happens to be the district attorney of New York, would be co-counsel. Barnhill even had his secretary call to confirm that I was talking about the Butch Karp."
Huttington and Barnhill turned back to the table and faced the court reporter. "The university denied the request," the president replied.
"For what reason?" Meyers shot back.
Apparently, Barnhill had anticipated the question and rehearsed it with Huttington, because he didn't bother to stop him from answering right away. "The university is a member of the American Collegiate Athletic Association and as such is subject to its rules and regulations," Huttington replied. "The ACAA conducted a hearing at which Coach O'Toole was given the opportunity to give his statement; the association then made its decision. The university as an entity was not obligated to provide Coach O'Toole a second forum, and we saw no good purpose-wanting only to get this business behind us for the university's sake, as well as Coach O'Toole's sake."
"You refused to give me a chance to prove that the charges against me were false so that I could clear my name for my sake?" said O'Toole incredulously.
"Sorry, Coach, but we will all have to move on with our lives," Huttington replied. He addressed the rest of what he had to say to the court reporter, as if he needed to explain his reasoning to her and no one else. "Coach O'Toole made a dreadful mistake. But one bad act does not make him a bad man. I wish him the best in his future endeavors."
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," O'Toole said before Meyers could silence him with a look.
"There was no 'good purpose' in allowing him to present his side publicly?" Meyers said to head off any more of his client's remarks.
"Asked and answered," Barnhill replied before Huttington could say anything.
Marlene stifled the impulse to shake her head and say something. She had to remind herself that she'd been introduced as a plaintiff's investigator and was only there to observe.
When Meyers called in early January to tell Butch that he would be deposing Huttington, Marlene had decided to fly out to get acquainted with the players and help with interviews and any loose ends that needed to be tied up.
As much as anything, she just wanted to get out of Manhattan. The murder of Cian Magee had cast a pall over the holiday season. Other than the twins' usual orgy of overdosing on e-presents and other holiday treats, the celebrations had been quiet and contemplative.
Jaxon had taken Lucy to the hospital after the fire, where she was given a mild sedative and treated for burns to her legs. Because of the tears and the drugs, it had been difficult to get the full story from her when Marlene and Butch arrived. Only when she fell asleep was Jaxon able to fill them in on the details such as he knew them. "Which isn't much."
However, it wasn't until Lucy was released and returned to the loft that they heard about the Sons of Man book and its relation to the tape recording Jaxon had asked her to translate. Even then, it all sounded too incredible-a clandestine group of smugglers from a remote island in the Irish Sea who'd immigrated to America and established a crime empire?
"That borders on The Da Vinci Code fantastic," Marlene remarked.
Almost as disturbing as the story was Lucy's attitude around Jaxon when he visited the loft to see how she was doing. Marlene noticed Lucy's reticence around him and several times saw her daughter giving him sideways glances, as if weighing something. But Lucy didn't say anything and Marlene chalked it up to shock and grief.
When she got a moment alone with Jaxon, Marlene asked if he'd noticed anything about Lucy's mood since the attack.
"You mean toward me? And yes, I've noticed," Jaxon acknowledged. "I was the one who got her and Cian into this. Then I was late getting to Cian's apartment. I was…looking for someone, and it took longer than I thought it would. Lucy hasn't said as much, but I think she blames me. And to be honest, I blame myself, too."
The death of Cian Magee had been front-page news for all of a day. The attack was obviously a homicide and arson, but the police had no suspects or a motive.
Jaxon had "pulled some strings" and kept Lucy's name out of the press, but it hardly mattered. The media could not be bothered with the death of a bookstore owner and the story had died soon after.
Lucy had stayed in New York until Christmas day. After the presents were opened and a quiet Christmas dinner was picked at halfheartedly, she caught a taxi to LaGuardia and left for New Mexico to be with her cowboy.
Now it was January, the twins were back in school, and Butch was preoccupied with the bombing at the Black Sea Cafe and his obsession with the murder of the schoolchildren during Andrew Kane's escape. Going to Idaho seemed like a great way for Marlene to escape herself.
Marlene had been picked up in an old sedan at Boise Airport by two of O'Toole's players from the baseball team, Clancy Len and Tashaun Willis. The young black athletes had then wasted no time driving her north out of the city on a highway that within a few miles was climbing steadily into the snow-covered mountains.
Initially the land they drove through appeared to be barren-given over to rocks, brush, and stunted juniper trees. But as the road climbed in elevation, the increasingly steep hillsides were covered by a dense forest of pines and firs. "Over on the right is the Payette River," Willis said, indicating the mostly iced-over water in the deep gorge to her right. "It doesn't look like much of a river now, and I know that where you're from, the rivers are big, deep, and muddy, but come spring runoff from the snow and the Payette will be raging."
The higher they climbed, the windier the road became, but it didn't slow Len down much. Marlene, who was no stranger to wild rides, nevertheless clutched the door handle nervously as the old sedan swung around blind corners and skirted sudden precipices. Here and there, patches of snow and ice could be seen on the pavement. To take her mind off thoughts of plunging off the highway and into the river, Marlene asked her escorts their opinion of Coach O'Toole.