These Violent Roots

by Nicole Williams

  Copyright © 2021 by Nicole Williams

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  These Violent Roots

  Nicole Williams

  For the underdogs, dark horses, and outsiders. I’m rooting for you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  About the Author

  Also by Nicole Williams

  One

  “Justice is for all. Not the select few. Not the majority. All.” I whipped into the turning lane, faintly registering the blare of the car horn behind me. “At least last time I consulted the US Justice system.”

  “God knows, with the Honorable Silas Payne as a father, the justice system is hardwired into your DNA.” Connor’s mutter was punctuated by the clatter of typing in the background. “Though you’d think with repeat offenders like Darryl Skovil, even a staunch defender of the law like your dad would be willing to turn a blind eye.”

  A sound echoed in the back of my throat. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

  “You’re adorable when you’re idealistic.” Connor clucked. “But not even you can claim a serial pedophile like Skovil deserves a fair trial. He deserves a life sentence with no chance of parole.”

  “Everyone deserves a fair trial.” I waved at the car behind me after cutting it off to make the high school entrance. “And that’s what we’re going to give him tomorrow. By laying out our case against him and putting him into prison for as long as possible.”

  A long sigh rattled on the other end. “It’s depressing to accept that even if we win this case, I’m busting my ass to prosecute a creep who’ll be back on the street molesting kids in a few years, best case scenario.”

  My SUV screeched to a halt in front of the main office. “That’s a few years he’s not able to hurt anyone else. That’s better than nothing.”

  I gave my reflection a check in the rearview, frowning. For being on the good side of forty—barely—I looked older than my thirty-nine years warranted . . . and exhausted. Worn out, as though I’d exceeded my expiration years ago. All of the money I’d spent over the past decade on aestheticians, doctors, and salons, fighting time’s decay, would have been better spent at a roulette wheel for the end results.

  After sweeping a stray eyelash from my cheek—I couldn’t tell if it was my own or one of the expensive silk ones I had touched up every few weeks—I glanced away from the mirror of doom. “Listen, you know the game. You’ve worked with me long enough to know it as well as I do. We’re the last line of defense against these criminals. We charge them to the fullest extent of the law with everything we can, then leave it in the hands of the justice system.”

  Connor grunted. “Some cases—some criminals—I wish there was a little more justice and a little less system. You know?”

  “Connor, I need to go. I’m at the high school and I can practically feel Principal Severson’s wrath oozing through the brick walls.”

  “Go easy on Andee,” he said, his tone softening. “She’s sixteen.”

  “Exactly. She’s sixteen. She should know better by now.”

  “It’s hard being a teenager in today’s world.” He paused. “It’s especially hard when you’re one of the troubled variety. Keep that in mind before dishing out her sentence.”

  I stopped as I reached for the door handle. “What makes you think Andee’s troubled?”

  “I thought the purple hair, dark music, and frequent trips to the principal’s office established that.”

  “It’s a phase,” I argued, my tone the equivalent of waving it off. “Every kid goes through it.”

  “You’re right.” The sound of Connor beating at his keyboard commenced again. “And I really like my job, so I’m going to shut up and get back to tying a pretty bow on this case so we can get the maximum sentence of a few years in prison, since the state of Washington isn’t a fan of the chair for criminals like Darryl Skovil.” A brief pause. “Pity.”

  Stepping out of the SUV, I pulled at the waist of my pencil skirt. It fit better before I’d packed on fifteen pounds over the past few years in an attempt to binge my emotions away. The coping mechanism was not all it was cracked up to be, as my emotions, energy levels, and waistbands could attest to.

  “What happened to the bright-eyed, unbiased, impartial paralegal I hired five years ago?” I asked Connor as I started for the school’s main entrance.

  “He got himself good and jaded by realizing that winning a max sentence isn’t even half of what most of these scumbags deserve.”

  “I’ll check in with you later.” I stopped outside the main doors, feeling the headache coming on. “Once I know the extent of trouble Andee’s gotten herself into this time.”

  “Tell her hey for me.”

  A huff sputtered from me. “You can tell her that yourself when I drop her on your doorstep and let you finish raising her since I’m failing on all parental fronts.”

  “You are not failing.”

  “No? This third trip to the principal’s office in one month suggests otherwise. And there’s Andee’s shrieks and mutters of me being the worst mom ever, not to mention her claims that a great white shark is more nurturing than me.”

  “Every teenage girl hates her mother at some point or another.” His tone suggested he was blinking forcefully as he spoke. “It’s practically biblical.”

  “I appreciate your efforts to make me feel like less of a disaster in the maternal realm, but that ship sailed years ago,” I replied, before exchanging a brief goodbye and whisking through the heavy front doors.

  When my husband and I made the decision to send our only child to one of the top-rated—not to mention top-priced—private high schools in the state at the start of her freshman year, let’s say our vision for our daughter had been different than making regular appearances at the principal’s office. Honestly, I was shocked they hadn’t suspended her, though I knew my father’s hefty contributions to the school had more to do with that than the school’s leniency. More money equated to more tolerance.

  No wonder the kids there had a skewed sense of right and wrong. The parents were screwing with the meanings.

  “Mrs. Wolff,” the front desk secretary greeted me with a measured smile. “You can go right in. Andee and Principal Severson are waiting for you.”

  I scribbled my name on the visitor sign-in sheet. “Thank you.”

  I returned the same kind of smile before heading toward the office in the back corner. Through the window of the door, I could make out the back of my daughter’s head. I caught my back tensing when I noticed a few electric blue streaks mixed in with the deep purple stripes.

  A couple of boys were slumped in the chairs outside Severson’s office. One of them was moving his jaw where a bruise looked to be
forming. The other had an ice pack resting along his zipper region. The boy with the ice pack nudged the one beside him, whispering something just loud enough with just the right degree of smile it had me pausing before entering the office.

  “Excuse me?”

  I’d never witnessed brash smiles vanish so quickly.

  “You’re Andee Wolff’s mom, right?” the bruised jaw one said, the gleam in his eye suggesting his family knew privilege generations deep.

  “That’s correct.” I scanned the two of them, no glimmer of recognition sparking. “Should I know either of you?”

  Andee hadn’t brought home a friend from school since eighth grade, and that was her partner for the end-of-the-year science project. She claimed friends were hard to make at this school. I suggested she try harder.

  “No. Yes.” Bruised Jaw shrugged. “I mean, kind of. We’re the reason you’re here, I guess.” When he waved his finger between the office and the two of them, I understood what he was getting at.

  Heat pumped through my veins as I pushed through the door.

  “Mrs. Wolff, thank you for coming.” Principal Severson rose from behind his desk, motioning at the empty chair beside Andee.

  My daughter didn’t deign to acknowledge my presence other than scooting her chair a few inches away from mine.

  “Did you attack those boys out there?” I started in, ignoring Principal Severson when he tried to interject something about “attack” not being the term they preferred to use.

  “Hey, Mom. Great to see you too.” Andee picked at her matte gray nail polish, any kind of concern absent from her face.

  “Don’t play games with me, Andee Caitlyn. There are two boys out there who look like they were attacked by a wild animal.”

  Another murmur from Principal Severson refuting my verb choice.

  “And this is something I should be sorry for why exactly?” Andee’s voice suggested boredom, her posture the same.

  I had to force myself to take a breath instead of spewing my gut response.

  “Please, Mrs. Wolff, do take a seat.” Principal Severson pulled at the collar of his crisp dress shirt. “We need to discuss the repercussions for Andee’s actions.”

  A huff echoed in the back of Andee’s throat. “And what about the ‘repercussions’ for Dillweed and Dimwit out there?” She bit her thumbnail. “Let me guess, some speech about boys being boys followed by a couple of high fives before sending them back to class?”

  Twisting in my seat, I waited for Andee to acknowledge me. Instead she twisted more of her back in my direction.

  “Exactly what happened?” I asked, glancing in Principal Severson’s direction when Andee led with silence. “Would someone please explain?”

  “Why? You already know exactly what happened, right, Mom? You made up your mind I was to blame for whatever reason you got called in today. Who needs the story when you’ve already got all the facts?” Andee stretched her arms above her head, yawning. “Just apologize to Principal Severson for your unruly child and dish out my punishment. We’ll layer it on top of my other sentences so I might hit parole by the time I’m forty.”

  My finger stabbed the air in the direction of the door. “You might want to take a look outside at those two boys before playing the part of the victim.”

  “Innocent until proven guilty, right, Mom?” Her steel eyebrow ring caught the light when Andee wrinkled her forehead. “For everyone that isn’t your child.”

  My hands squeezed the arms of the chair. “This is your opportunity to tell your side of the story. So tell it.”

  “Why? It’s not like you’re going to believe it.”

  I made myself inhale for a count of five. “Andee, let’s hear it. Why did you attack—confront”—Principal Severson’s head tipped in approval—“those boys?”

  Her shoulders moved beneath the navy blue sweater with Prescott Prep’s insignia on the chest. “They were running their mouths. I prefer my fists do the talking.”

  “That’s not a reason to assault someone. Someones,” I replied, rubbing my temple as a headache advanced.

  Andee rolled her eyes. “That’s one of the better reasons.”

  Before I could reply, Principal Severson inserted himself into the conversation. “I asked Miss Wolff if there was any reason other than Mr. Heath and Mr. Carston ‘running their mouths’ for her outburst today. She assured me there was not.” He paused long enough to give Andee a chance to speak up. She responded by grabbing her backpack and checking the clock. “As this is the third time this month she’s been sent here for similar lapses, I’m afraid I have no choice but to suspend her for the remainder of the week.”

  My eyebrows pulled together. “Today’s Thursday.”

  “I hope she’ll use this week to reflect upon her actions so she may, in the future, deal with confrontation more constructively.” Principal Severson’s gaze settled on Andee, but she was back to chipping her nail polish. “I hope you know that I’m on your side, Miss Wolff. I know it might not seem it, given our history, but I am. If there’s anything or anyone making your life difficult here at Prescott Prep, I hope you’ll come to me next time instead of taking matters into your own hands. Or fists.” The corners of his mouth threatened to turn up as he rose from behind his desk. “I appreciate you coming in, Mrs. Wolff. I know both you and your husband lead busy lives.”

  “Of course.” I rose with him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Andee grunted as she peeled herself from the chair.

  “There’s nothing inconvenient about shaping the future.” The way he said it suggested it was the adage he ended most conversations with. I had similar lines I used in court. “I’ll see you Monday, Miss Wolff.”

  “I’ll wait with bated breath,” Andee muttered.

  My tongue worked into my cheek as I followed my daughter out of the office, unable to stop myself from tallying the number of dress code violations she’d racked up today. Ripped tights, untucked blouse, untied shoes, too many piercings by about seven, wrinkled skirt . . . the list continued.

  Andee scowled at the boys reclined in the chairs outside of the office, waving her middle finger over her shoulder when they chuckled.

  “Andee get that mean right hook from you or your husband, Mrs. Wolff?” the one with the ice pack asked.

  I had no intention of responding, though my daughter could not find the same restraint.

  “My dad,” she snapped, middle digit still extended toward the ceiling. “My mom’s convinced all battles should be fought with words.” She tromped past the front desk, shouldering past a couple of underclassmen when she reached the hall. “Because bad guys are magically reformed with fancy prose and stern looks.”

  “You lost your audience,” I said with a sigh, the sound of my heels filling the wide hall.

  “No.” Andee scanned me from the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t.”

  “If this is the part where you rip into me for being a sellout, a ‘part of the problem,’ and a paid liar, can I request that you move on to the phase of giving me the silent treatment for however many hours or days you deem justifiable?”

  Once we were outside, Andee’s pace picked up. “Gladly.”

  When she reached the SUV, she threw her bag into the back seat and slammed the door behind her. By the time I’d crawled into the driver’s seat, she already had her headphones on and was scrolling through one of her playlists.

  Starting the car, there were a dozen things I wanted to shout at her. Everything from how she was going to explain a suspension to her father and why she seemed intent on setting fire to every single facet of her life, but instinct or experience held me back.

  Instead, I found myself staring at my child. The being I’d brought into this world, who used to bring me dandelions from the yard with a toothy, toddler grin, the girl who used to snuggle close when thunder rumbled in the distance, the person who, I reminded myself, I loved unconditionally.

  She didn’t flinch away as
I anticipated when I slid back her headphones. “Andee, what happened?”

  Her arms folded over her chest. “Nothing.”

  “You didn’t get suspended because ‘nothing’ happened.”

  My phone rang; the office was calling.

  More calls from the office had interrupted family events, milestones, talks, and moments than I cared to tally. This time, I hit Decline when I detected what appeared to be a clear globe forming at the outer corner of Andee’s eye.

  “What did those boys say?” I let a few moments of silence pass before continuing. “Did they do anything to you?” My throat moved with the bloated suggestion, wondering how I could speak so skillfully in a courtroom and fail so grievously when speaking to my own child.

  “What? Like assault me?” Andee snorted, gracing me with a look that announced I was as ineffective of a parent as I estimated I was. “If either of those assholes had tried, they would be in need of a surgeon skilled in appendage reattachment.” Shaking her head, she snapped her headphones back over her ears. “How much longer are you going to pretend to give a shit, Mom? Just so I can prepare myself for how many more minutes we’re going to play make-believe.”

  My jaw locked, trapping the words or cries trying to escape. “Buckle up.” I sped out of the driveway.

  “Careful. Your act’s starting to crumble,” Andee muttered, clicking her seatbelt into place.

  When the phone rang—the office again—I hit Accept. “What?” I barked.

  Andee clucked her tongue. “There she is.”

  Two