Page 113 of Yolo

“They what?!” she cried out.

“It’s time,” I said, jaw still clenched. “Let’s go.”

I walked with her, as carefully as possible, back into the courthouse, then down to our courtroom.

We’d left Rooster at home since I would be with Bindi all day, and felt like poor Rooster would have to lay on the hard ground for overly long when it wasn’t necessary.

“What else does it say?” she whispered.

“Says that the Harris family is in debt up to their eyeballs,” he said. “And the three million they gave you came from them selling a house. Their family home.”

“And what do they think they’re going to accomplish by suing me?” she asked.

“They’re trying to stay afloat,” I murmured. “Baby, if they have life insurance policies out on you,” I said carefully, “then it’s possible they tried to kill you.”

Her mouth opened and closed. “But…they couldn’t have guessed that a rock would come down from a switchback and hit me.”

“Couldn’t they?” I asked. “From what you told me, the sister was already up over your head. Do you think it’s possible that she was the one to throw that rock down onto your head?”

“Maybe she didn’t mean to hit you like she did,” I continued. “Maybe she meant to scare you, and whoops, you fell off the mountain and died.”

She laughed suddenly then.

“Do you think after that hit me in the head, they left me there because they thought I might die?” she asked.

“It’s highly possible,” I said. “Come on. It’s starting.”

I led her into the courtroom to our frowning lawyer.

He opened his mouth to say something scathing—like me looking bad to the judge for being late—but stopped when I handed him the papers.

The lawyer took them, and his mouth fell open in shock.

I sat Bindi down, then took the seat behind her.

I then pulled out my phone and started texting.

The judge came in, and the court proceedings started, but I was only listening with half an ear as I texted my brother Quincy with all of my ideas.

He texted the group chat, and soon, I had eight Carters looking into it.

Even Ande.

Honestly, if my money was on anyone, it would be on her.

She could find a person with only an Instagram photo and a location tag while she was on vacation.

“…emotional distress,” Joseph’s lawyer finished.

“Your honor,” our lawyer said, “I’d like to call Bindi up to the stand, and have you listen to her accounting of that day.”

“Okay,” the judge said. “Ms. Howe? You may come to the stand.”

I put my phone away after that, then got up and started to help her to the stand, but the judge glared at me. “Sit.”

“Then someone needs to help her, because she’s blind and there are many obstacles between here and that seat you want her in.”

“I got it, kid,” her lawyer, also my dad’s good golf buddy, said. “Don’t worry.”

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