Page 134 of Legally Ours

I examined the grainy black and white photograph. "I'm...I'm in the Navy Yard." The same place, I realized with a dropping stomach, where I'd been taken. How could I not have recognized it?

"And when was this taken?"

I pressed my lips together and stared at Cipolla. "Five years ago."

"And what were you doing there, Ms. Crosby?"

"I was paying off my father's debt to Mr. Messina."

"Debt, debt. That's a funny word. For how much, did you say?"

"That time it was forty thousand dollars," I said through gritted teeth.

"Did your father sign any papers documenting this loan?"

"No, but––"

"And can you prove that you delivered forty thousand dollars to my client?"

"You know very well that your client only accepts cash. Just like every other criminal extortionist in New York."

"Those are some very nice shoes you're wearing, Ms. Crosby," Cipolla remarked.

"Objection," called Zola. "Immaterial."

"Ms. Crosby is a recent law student from one of the most expensive schools in the country," Cipolla said to the judge. "I'm simply trying to ascertain if all of the money she demonstrated was taken out of her account really went where she said it did, or if perhaps she spent some or all of it on herself."

The judge looked over his spectacles at Cipolla like he was a very small rodent. "Overruled, Mr. Zola. Continue, Counsel."

Cipolla looked back at me. I blinked, knowing not to say anything unless I was asked.

"How much does Harvard Law School cost?" he asked, batting his stubby eyelashes in a strange parody of a coquette.

I pressed my lips together. "It's expensive."

"Answer the question, Ms. Crosby," barked the judge.

I sighed. "Approximately sixty-thousand a year."

"And is that with room and board?"

Again, I sighed. "No."

"And approximately how much does housing cost in Boston?"

I glanced up at Brandon, who was glaring bullets at Cipolla. Then I looked back to Cipolla. "Student housing at Harvard Law costs approximately fifteen thousand a year."

"Do you have any student loans, Ms. Crosby?"

I clasped my hands together. "I––no."

There was a slight intake of breath around the room, and immediately I heard a few murmurs arise in the gallery above.

"But that's just because I had a trust from my mother with enough to pay for––"

"You had a trust with enough to pay for my client's alleged loans to your father, along with tuition and fees, at one of the most expensive schools in the world?"

"Well, no, but that's because––"