The Unblocked Collection (64 page)

“Now?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“But you’re not a victim.”

He shook his head. “No, but I’m the only witness. I’m the last one to be interviewed before they process all the paperwork. Frankie, I want you to come with me.”

I ran my hands over his beard. “Are you sure?” That meant I would be going to Hayden’s office, listening to the cause of his father’s death at the very same time she was. This would be the first time I was in her presence since I’d told her to fuck off. I hoped she could put our differences aside for Derek; I knew I could for a situation like that.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“Does the timing of this have anything to do with what happened at Timber Towers?”

“I don’t know.” He looked toward the door of the ICU and back at me. “Whatever the investigators find out, we’ll pass onto her firm. But for now, they need to hear my testimony.”

“Does that mean he’ll be arrested soon?”

I held my breath as I waited for his answer. I didn’t know how quickly these investigators would work, but I wanted Randy to be taken into custody before Derek got back the results of what happened at his building…and before he really processed what Randy had done to me.

“I think so.”

I leaned against his chest and his arms folded around me. The warmth of his body was the exact opposite of what this place represented, what I felt while I was in there, Randy’s lingering touch on my skin. I held onto him as if he was the only thing that was keeping me standing. He likely was. We stayed just like that, unwilling to move. Just holding each other again as we had once before in this same space. I didn’t know how much time had passed; I didn’t care.

This was where I wanted to be.

In Derek’s arms.

DEREK

“I’M SORRY
for the short notice,” Hayden said when she met us in the lobby of her building. “I wish I could have given you more time to prep, but time isn’t something we have right now.”

“I don’t need to prep.” I took her in my arms and hugged her. “The story is the story. Having more time won’t change the details.” I brought Frankie into the circle and held her hand, and Hayden’s. This wasn’t how I wanted to bring the two of them together. Frankie was here for me, but I knew being around Hayden wasn’t easy for her. “I won’t insult either of you by introducing you.” I glanced back and forth between them, waiting for one of them to speak.

“Hi, Hayden.” Frankie’s voice was light, not anxious. She seemed more comfortable than she had in the car.

My sister looked relieved. She clearly wasn’t expecting Frankie to even speak to her. “Frankie,” Hayden said. “Thanks for being here. I know it means a lot to my brother. It means a lot to me, too.” We followed Hayden to the elevator. “We’re going to be in one of the conference rooms. There are about ten people in there. I’ll introduce you to everyone and then you can—”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to know their names or who they are. I just need to get this all out. We can focus on who’s who later.”

“Gotcha.” She pushed the button for the top floor. “To bring you up to speed, we’ve signed thirteen victims. All of their statements have been recorded and processed. Their financial records have been analyzed. We’re also looking into Randy’s financials.”

“How’s it looking?”

“I can’t reveal much, but I can tell you we’re making lots of progress.”

“Hayden, cut the shit. You’ve got to give me something here.”

She leaned in, the professionalism leaving her face. “He’s fucked, brother.” I smiled. It was the only bit of good news I’d heard all day. “How are the guys?”

“They’re doing better.” We’d gotten only a few hours of sleep and had gone back to the hospital early this morning. Both men were awake and much more alert than the night before. “Hayden, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to my men.”

“We’re going to make sure it won’t ever happen again.”

“Should I include the accident at Timber Towers at the end of my statement?”

“No.” Hayden glanced at the numbers that were lighting up over the door. “Not a word of it…unless you have evidence that you haven’t told me about?”

I pulled at the collar of my flannel. It felt tighter than normal and I was sweating underneath it. “I should know more in a few days.”

“If we need to make it part of the case, we will, and he’ll be charged separately.”

Hayden led us out of the elevator and down a long hallway. At the end was a single closed door. “Any last minute questions?” she asked.

“No.” I squeezed Frankie’s hand. “I’m ready.”

In the middle of the room was a large oak table, a flat-screen hung on the far wall; framed abstract scenery hung on the others. Had we been there for a different reason, I would have checked out the view of this part of the city from the long paneled windows. But nothing about today was enjoyable—not what I’d seen at the hospital before I’d come here, not the testimony that was about to come out of my mouth.

Hayden pulled out a chair for me to sit in, placing me in the center of the oval. Frankie sat on one side of me, Hayden on the other. I tried not to stare at anything too long, especially the faces that were looking back at me.

“Derek,” my sister said, and pointed at the head of the table, “this is Fred Lester. Fred is a partner here at the firm and the lead attorney assigned to this case. He’s going to be conducting this interview. All answers should be directed to him.”

“Mr. Block,” Fred said, my eyes slowly shifting to meet his, “as Hayden pointed out, I will be conducting this deposition. Your answers will be recorded. Please let me know if you have an objection to that.” He knew I didn’t have a problem with it, to be recorded was the reason I was here. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Then let’s get started. Please state your legal name.”

“Derek Block.”

“Is Derek Block your birth name?”

Frankie’s hand touched my leg underneath the table. She pushed down, trying to keep it steady. I hadn’t realized I’d been bouncing it. When it stilled, she kept her hand there. “No, that would be Derek White.”

“Can you state your relationship to Peter White?”

“Peter White was my father.”

“Can you state your relationship to Randy White?”

“He’s my uncle, and my father’s only brother.”

“Can you describe the events that took place on…” He kept talking, but I stopped listening. I never discussed what happened at Randy’s jobsite. Never. I tried not to even think about it. I knew one day I’d have to give an account of those details, I just hadn’t thought about what that day would look like. And now that I was here and there were two more victims in the hospital, I wanted to pound my fists against the table and call Randy exactly what he was: a goddamn murderer. These formalities weren’t necessary.

“We were working on a six-story mid-rise in the outskirts of Portsmouth,” I said. “The project had been delayed several times. It had been blamed on wrong materials, but we all knew it was because Randy didn’t have the cash to pay the distributors. When the materials finally arrived, we were under a strict deadline to finish. On the day in question, my father was standing on a section of scaffolding on the east side of the building. It was snowing. The scaffolding had been up overnight and there was a layer of ice on the bottom. We’d tried to salt it as much as we could, but we were running out of that, too.” I remembered how goddamn cold it was that day. Everyone was moving so slowly, but with my help, there was a small chance we could make the deadline. Knowing that was enough to make me want to be there. “The guys were on the scaffolding putting on the trusses. While I was walking past it to grab the nail gun, I noticed the screw jack in the base plates were starting to come loose and buckling under the added weight. My father was holding the truss over his head; a second team was on the other side bolting down their end. I called up to him, but it was so loud no one could hear me.” Dad’s feet weren’t steady. His knees were shaking. He had to know something was wrong, yet he didn’t move, continuing to hold that truss. “I looked for the megaphone and couldn’t find it. I tried to find some extra hands to help me screw in the jacks, but there was no one around besides the men on the scaffolding. Then I noticed the end frame began to wobble. The frame coupler was giving out, too, and the vertical bracing was getting ready to fall. The entire structure was caving from the weight. My father turned toward me, the truss still in his hands. He knew what was happening…” I’d seen it in his eyes—the fear, the panic; the knowledge of what he needed to do in that moment, what we’d all been trained to do. “He dropped the truss and reached for the lifeline, but he was too late. The platform tilted forward, and his feet slid off. There was nothing else for him to grab onto. Nothing.” I took a breath.

Silence. That’s all I heard. When I looked at Frankie, her eyes were wide and she was holding back tears, her hand still on my leg. I didn’t dare look at Hayden so I peered down at the wooden table.

“When you’re ready, please describe the scene that followed.”

That asshole wanted me to tell him what it looked like to watch my father fall through the air and tumble to his death on the snow covered ground? Hell no. I wouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t help the case and it wouldn’t put Randy away any faster.

“He fell.” I finally looked up, staring at the end of the table. “His hardhat wasn’t enough protection—he was too high up. I couldn’t look away when he hit the ground. I tried to…”

Frankie squeezed my hand.

“I understand these questions are painful, but any details you can provide will be extremely helpful.”

I ran my hands over my face, closing my eyes briefly. I saw it. I saw the whole fucking thing. There was no lapse in my memory, no fog; no snow in my eyes as I tried to recount what had happened. “He landed face down,” I finally said. “I checked his pulse and screamed his name. Nothing. No movement. Blood leaked from his nose and his mouth onto the snow. There was a pool of it; it surrounded my feet, but I didn’t move. At some point, the ambulance and police showed up. I don’t know who called them. It wasn’t me.”

His eyes were open. The whole time, his eyes were open.

I didn’t tell him that. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

“I have a copy of the police report,” he said. “A witness gave their statement, saying the scaffolding hadn’t been cleared for safety that morning, therefore your father shouldn’t have been on it. The witness also said your father was the only member of the crew to use the scaffolding that day. According to the investigation, there was no foul play and no tampering with the evidence was suspected or found.”

“And the trusses disappeared from the jobsite…I know. I’ve read the report. And I read where the guys stated they were working on framing the interior ground level that day, which is bullshit.” That motherfucker had the evidence removed to save his own ass. “Why didn’t the police check the top of the building to see if there were bolt marks where the truss had been secured?” There was silence as he skimmed the papers in front of him. “Had they checked it, they would have seen the holes. And the only way the holes could have gotten there was if someone—like my father—was on the opposite side holding up the other end of the truss.” I knew my voice was too loud, but I didn’t give a fuck. “It’s not a one-man job; he wouldn’t be able to do it by himself. No one else saw what happened…it was just me and my father on the east side of the building. The witness is a fake, someone paid off by Randy. I was the only witness…so why didn’t anyone believe me when I gave my statement back then?”

He glanced down, flipping through several pages. I wasn’t looking for him to give me an answer; I knew he didn’t have one. He wasn’t there. And my statement wouldn’t be found in those papers because it had never been recorded—another mysterious omission amid all this treachery. But to everyone at the table, the answer should have been quite obvious.

“Although the equipment hadn’t been cleared for safety, when it was later inspected it appeared to have all the necessary components to meet code. Would you agree with that statement?”

“Agree?” I laughed. It was that or yell and the laughing felt better. “I don’t agree at all.”

“What makes you believe it wasn’t?”

“Randy’s scaffolding only had toprails, no midrail or toeboard and no fall arrest system. There was a vertical lifeline, but they were suspended lines from the scaffolding, not independent lines. Plus the anchorage points were weak and couldn’t support the amount of weight they needed to.”

“You were so young at the time. How can you be positive it was missing those components?”

How could I be positive? Now he was just insulting me.

“Fred, I’m in the construction business, and I have been since I was able to walk. I can construct scaffolding like you can screw in a goddamn light bulb. I’m able to spot a missing component in seconds. I could then, too. What I’m telling you isn’t a minor detail that I remember. It’s fact.”

Fred glanced at the other suits around the table. I kept my eyes on him. I heard writing, pages turning. What I didn’t hear was anyone else questioning my facts.