Bad Things

|Chapter Sixteen|

Nick gives me an uneasy look, we both know where the district attorney is going with this.  It's taking everything in me to not throw up.

"I don't know what you mean," Noah says easily, but I note the slight tremor in his words.  Noah doesn't take his focus off of Funk, his outward composure doesn't slip.

"Can you please state your father's name for the court?" Funk asks Noah, his sinister smile in place, like he's already gotten him.

"Objection, relevancy," my father calls out in retort.

"Sustained, get to the point, Funk.  Don't make me remind you again," the judges orders, steepling his fingers together. 

"Noah, your father is Paul Kasoura of the Kurayami, correct?"

Noah's eyes dart to mine for a millisecond before turning back to Funk, "yes."

Something about Noah's glance to me reveals that there's something going on here that I don't understand.  I immediately realize that Noah lied to me.  Whoever that man was that he killed, it was not his father.  I don't know why the district attorney is bringing it up or how it pertains to the case.

Everyone else seems to understand, Nick strains to look around the room.  There's a collective gasp and a low murmur has begun.  I don't understand what is going on to make the court act like this.

"Order!" the judge yells, slamming his gavel in three sharp raps.  It still takes everyone a minute to quiet down.  Everyone here knows something I don't.

Nick leans in close to my ear, "whatever you hear next, do not react."

I realize in this instant that I'm about to be blindsided.  Nothing could have prepared me for how the rest of his testimony would go.  I watched him closely, he was becoming more high strung as the seconds ticked on.

"And you used to work for your father, correct?"

"Yes," Noah grits through clenched teeth.  I know he didn't want to answer that, but I can't figure out why it would be an issue.  What am I missing and what is the Kurayami?

"Objection your honor, irrelevant," my father sounds bored, I don't watch many court trials, but this seems like a lot of objections.  I assume Funk doesn't have anything and he's trying to slander Noah's character because it's all he's got.

"Sustained, quit drawing this out, wrap it up," the judge demands sitting up straighter on his bench.

"Noah, you worked for one of the most dangerous Japanese American gangs in the states and you want us to believe you aren't capable of murder?"

It takes everything in me not to gasp. I furrow my brows and glare at Nick. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Noah's expression is crestfallen while he continues to ignore Funk.

"Objection, speculation," my father pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Overruled, for now," the judge points an angry finger at Funk.

"I worked for my father when I was a teenager, I didn't have a choice. I haven't spoken to him in ten years," Noah answers, he's not answering Funk. He's answering me. I always knew there was something dangerous lurking just under the surface. I have my answer. Noah was in an actual gang. He lied to me about his father, what else has he lied about. I want to storm out of here. I don't want to listen to another word. I can't do that, I still don't want him to go to jail. It's also against the rules to get up and leave in the middle of a trial.

"You didn't answer the question, Mr Sebastian."

"I didn't kill Jackson Truett," he barks, it's final and sincere. The district attorney looks taken aback. Like he was hoping to get a confession out of this.