Selma murmured her own goodbye and then let out a breath. It was time for the call she’d been looking forward to the most.
“Karen? I'm home. Would you mind bringing Ben? We can also talk for a while when you get here.”
Chapter 4
They were chasing her. Her chest was with heavy with all the breaths she couldn't take. She'd been running so long and so hard. Sweat was trickling down her face and her hair was stuck to her skin.
The sundress they'd made her wear to church was clinging to her torso. Her nice shoes were ruined but she didn't care anymore. Tears fell down her cheeks for a few brief moments. She pinched herself. There wasn't time to cry. There was only time to run.
She wanted to run. Run. Run!
Her mind was screaming at her but she was too tired to make sense of anything. Her legs and arms didn't want to move anymore. A sob escaped her. Why couldn't she run?
Anger rose in her throat like bile.
Her foster parents wouldn't believe it. They were good people. They were probably some of the best people she'd ever stayed with. She didn't want to mess things up. She liked it here.
He just had to ruin it! He wouldn't leave her alone!
It had started with weird looks that had just made her uncomfortable. He was a good man, her foster mother had told her. He was good with children. They thought private counsel with him would help her. He was respected in their church.
‘He's helped many children who've struggled.’
The anger and bile rose in her throat again. She clenched her fists and sneered at the thought.
She'd been ready today, even though she knew that it would only ruin things for herself.
As much as she hated him, she hadn't wanted to do it. But... her foster parents had taken in another little girl, a year younger than herself. They wanted her to meet with him too.
Piper couldn't let that happen.
The heavy paperweight on his desk had done the job. His jaw had snapped with a sickening crunch. She hoped he had to eat through a straw for the rest of his life.
His foul, wet mouth disgusted her. She was glad she'd broken it.
Piper jerked awake in a cold sweat, the memory dredging up all sorts of horrible feelings. Fear, revulsion, sick satisfaction, and rage were all railing against the peace she'd found for years now.
She counted as she took careful breaths—just like her counselor had taught her. I'm not eleven years old anymore. I'm okay.
It was a mantra she hadn't had to repeat very often, but the incident with the paparazzi from several days before had left her feeling trapped. Every night since then she'd been struggling.
It pissed her off.
Piper was past all this crap. She'd dealt with it. It was supposed to be tucked away safely in a box in a part of her mind she ignored as much as possible.
She got out of bed with a growl and dressed in some loose jogging pants and a short sleeved t-shirt. She had to dig around for her old running shoes but she found them eventually.
The morning was clear and bright, calling for a long run through the woods. She pulled out her tiny old mp3 player and earbuds from the nightstand drawer. It still powered on, even though it had been a while. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek as she looked through the small player's library, trying to find the right playlist to fit her mood.
Her finger paused over one labeled “Fuck the World” and she let out a chuckle. Yeah, that seemed like a good choice. She selected it and quickly tucked the player into a sleeve of her shirt, rolling it up to fit tightly against her shoulder. Pulling her long blonde locks up into a neat tail, she tucked the buds into her ears as Flyleaf's “I'm so Sick” blasted from them.
She grabbed her keys and a few dollars and tucked them into the unzipped pocket of her pants, closing it after they were tucked safely away. She used to run with Shelly, but there was no way Piper was going to wake her after working a double shift.
Piper hoped it wouldn’t go too badly. She was going early and based on the jittering in her limbs, she really needed the run.
The hallway was dark as she stepped out of her room, the early morning shadows still deep. She avoided the steps that creaked the loudest as she descended the stairs, pausing once she reached the bottom. She was sure Dottie was awake but decided to avoid the kitchen anyway.
Music still blasting away in her ears, she stepped out into the cold, crisp morning air. Goosebumps prickled along her arms, but she knew once she started her run she'd be fine. She did a few cursory stretches to loosen up a little and then started on an old path she'd once been very familiar with.
Forty-five minutes later there was a light sheen of sweat on her body, and despite the fact that she was more winded than she would like, Piper felt a lot better. The scenery was beautiful, and the stillness of nature in the early morning did wonders to help purge the darkness of her night.
As she approached the cottage, she slowed her pace to cool down and steady her breathing. The music was still playing loudly in her ears. She didn't hear footsteps approach her from behind.
She did feel the hand that tightly grabbed her shoulder, and with memories fresh in her brain, reacted instinctively.
The hand was large and unfamiliar in her determined grip; she twisted the fingers and applied pressure to the sensitive spot between index finger and thumb. With a jerk, she wrenched the arm to the side, taking a sweeping step backward to catch her assailant in the solar plexus with her elbow.
Now free from the restraining hand, she turned to face her would-be attacker.
Except her attacker was vaguely familiar—one of the reporters that had been camping out on her lawn. He was on the ground, groaning, one hand over his stomach the other near a broken smartphone that had probably shattered on impact with the sidewalk.
Ire had Piper clenching her jaw. Of course, it would be some stupid reporter. She plucked the earbuds out of her ears angrily, glaring at him as he moaned and groaned dramatically. “What the hell is wrong with you, dude?”
“Are you kidding me? You assaulted me out of nowhere!” came his indignant reply.
Piper snorted. “Yeah, okay. How about you try not grabbing someone from behind at bumfuck in the morning when that person is expecting to be jogging in peace.”
“You broke my phone! And I'm in pain.” The man scowled at her from the ground.
She rolled her eyes. “Not my problem, guy. You should have known better.”
The brown-haired man gathered up the pieces of his recording device and carefully rose to his feet, wincing. “I'll press charges. Hell, I'll sue!” He smirked.
Piper clenched her teeth. “Yeah, okay. Good luck with that. You're at fault here.” She turned to walk the remaining distance toward the cottage.
“You'll be hearing from my lawyer!” he shouted from behind. Piper grimaced and shook her head. Just fucking great. Just what I fucking needed today.
Despite her anger, she entered the cottage quietly. She didn't want to disturb anyone. Mark wouldn't be up for school for a while, and after Shelly had worked a double she definitely needed her rest. Glancing at the clock, she knew Dottie had already left for the diner.
She paced, unsure what to do. He wouldn’t follow through with his threats, would he? He was clearly at fault. She paced some more. Okay, first things first.
Piper decided to go about her routine to occupy herself. There was nothing she could do. She was still sweaty from her run, and so headed up the stairs to grab some fresh clothes for a shower. A reprieve was in order.
After a relatively quick wash, she headed down to get her plate of breakfast from the oven. Hearing Mark sleepily making his way to the kitchen, she pulled out his plate as well.
By the time Mark had stumbled over to the table, both plates and two fresh glasses of milk had been set down. She sat across from him.
“Morning, kid. Sleep well?”
Mark yawned widely, brown eyes drowsily blinking at her. “Yeah, I had a cool dream that
Miss Flores blasted fireballs at some of those reporters. Then Dottie showed up and shot them in the butt with a bow and arrow.”
Piper chortled. “That is a pretty cool dream, kid.” She sobered as she thought of her morning, but tried to keep her expression neutral for Mark.
He didn't seem to notice, intent on smothering his waffles in syrup. He replaced the bottle at its usual spot in the middle of the table and tucked into his food.
“You want a little more waffle with that syrup?” Piper's eyebrows were raised.
Mouth sticky, he replied. “Nah, I'm good.” Bits of waffle peeked out of his mouth as he grinned.
A small smile grew on her face. “Gross. You want a ride to school today or you cool with the bus?”
Mark thought a moment, syrup-covered lips pursing endearingly. “A ride would be cool. I can read a little longer that way!”
Her smile blossomed into a grin. “Sure thing, kid. Just get dressed first so we don't end up running late.”
He hummed and promptly finished his breakfast, giving her a wave before he disappeared upstairs.
Piper's smile dimmed. She really hoped the scuzzoid from the morning had just been blowing hot air.
*****
Selma was not having a good morning. She'd been woken up in the middle of the night by a call from a crying client complaining about an ex-spouse violating a custody agreement and taking off with their child.
Selma had immediately notified the proper authorities and, after seeing the amber alert herself, had set about prepping some motions. She wanted to do more, but the situation was largely in the hands of the police.
The motions she'd file on behalf of her client would only be helpful when the ex-spouse was apprehended and the child recovered. Even then, they would only serve to attempt to change the custody agreement to limit access further or totally, depending on the judge.
Selma was hoping for the restraining order to be issued without objection, at the very least. It was more than a little frustrating. While her pro bono cases were most rewarding, they were often the most difficult to handle.
What galled her most was that they'd had their day in court, won, and followed their end of the agreement to a ‘T’. That hadn’t stopped her client’s ex from drinking too much and making a stupid decision. She desperately hoped that the six-year-old girl stuck in the middle of the entire mess was alright.
It was barely seven in the morning and she'd already had to pop some aspirin for a headache. Ben would be waking up soon, and she would get a little time with her baby to set her world to rights. The thought soothed her.
An hour later Emily was there and Selma's mood was restored. Her adorable son always worked wonders after a trying case, a vivid reminder of why her job was important. Children like Ben and that six-year-old little girl needed someone to fight on their behalf.
Selma settled behind her desk with her second cup of coffee and prepared to start the rest of her workday. Just as she turned on her computer, the sound of ringing filled the air. She eyed her cell phone warily.
“Selma Flores.” Her voice was neutral despite her resignation to bad news.
“Hey Selma, it's Piper. I think that there's going to be some problems with this reporter...”
Selma pinched the bridge of her nose as she listened. It was just one of those days.
A few hours later, Selma was waiting outside the Tate cottage. She’d donned her favorite gray pinstriped pantsuit with a black shell underneath and matching pumps, her armor of choice. She tucked her arms into the pockets of her coat as she waited for a response.
There was cursing on the other side of the door. She raised an eyebrow in response.
The door opened a moment later, Piper alternating between a scowl and a slight smile as she leaned heavily on one foot. “Sorry about that, I stubbed my toe on the way to open the door.” She sighed. “Just one of those days, you know?”
The phrase made her smile. “Oh, I wholeheartedly agree with you. It is definitely one of those days.” Her smile grew. Unlike her previous visits, she didn't remove her coat. “The first thing we're doing is going down to the police station so you can identify which reporter you had contact with this morning, and possibly preemptively file criminal charges of your own.”
Piper blinked at her, not comprehending.
Selma's gaze didn't falter. “Get your shoes on. Also, don't forget your coat.” Her tone was patient but authoritative.
Piper blinked again and then scrambled to do as Selma commanded.
*****
A few minutes later they both stepped out of the cottage. Selma led them to the sleek form of a black BMW that Piper had noticed before. It made sense that it belonged to Selma, now that she thought of it. They settled into the dark leather seats without a word.
Piper's jiggled her leg as the car purred to life. “Are you upset, Selma?”
Selma blew out a breath, running a hand through her chin-length hair before pulling the car out. “Am I upset? Yes. Am I upset with you? No. It's just been a less than favorable morning, and this imbecile has no idea what he's gotten himself into.” Her voice had degraded into a growl as she finished speaking.
A tingle traveled down Piper's spine and something shifted low in her abdomen. She hadn’t heard Selma speak like that before. She cleared her throat. “Should we really press charges? I mean, did he even break the law? He only grabbed my shoulder.”
In full lawyer mode, Selma became matter-of-fact. “In this state, he classifies as having perpetrated a simple assault; he laid his hand upon you without your permission and the result was menacing and inspired fear. If he hasn't pressed charges as he threatened, this will help your case in the long run. Especially if he attempts to pursue a civil suit.” Selma's tone grew thoughtful. “Given that you previously had him removed for trespassing, and that he may have also been attempting to violate the city’s anti-loitering ordinance, you may also be able to file a restraining order against him. The sign for the ordinance has been clearly posted in front of the cottage, has it not?”
Piper licked her lips and rubbed at her denim-covered thighs. Maybe looking at Selma wasn’t a good idea, she’d only caught about half of that. “Oh yeah, Chief Hughes put it right next to the Private Property sign, and the amount of people hanging out in front of the house is almost nonexistent.”
She could see Selma nod in her periphery. Her plan wasn’t working very well; in the cab of the sedan the soft vanilla-and-spice of Selma’s chosen perfume was difficult to ignore. She squinted as she tried to follow Selma’s words.
“I may also contact his employer. I don't think the rag he works for classifies as a newspaper,” Selma sneered, “but for something as potentially damaging as this situation, the trash he works for may wish to cut their losses and relieve him of his job.”
Piper's eyes widened. She forgot about her resolution not to look at Selma. “Can we hold off on the last part? I don't want the guy to lose his job. What if he has a family?”
Selma pursed her lips. “As you wish. I may still use that as a bargaining chip if he intends to pursue a civil suit at a later time, however.”
They pulled into the police station, which was unsurprisingly not busy. Both women quickly exited the vehicle and entered the front door. At the main desk Officer Barnes was shooting paper balls at a wastebasket. Piper felt slightly embarrassed on behalf of her town.
Upon seeing them, Officer Barnes instantly stopped what he was doing and sat up in his chair. He smiled at them. “Piper! And… the lawyer.” He tilted his head and his smile became crooked.
Selma stepped forward with her hand out, obviously unperturbed by his greeting. “Selma Flores, I'm here as Miss Tate's legal representation.”
He accepted her handshake. “Ah, Miss Flores, that’s right.” He paused and frowned. “Why does Piper need a lawyer?”
“There was an incident this morning, and I do believe Piper wishes to report it.” Selma delicately placed a hand on Piper's l
ower back and gently pushed her forward. Piper nearly stumbled as she moved to sit, and shifted uncomfortably as Selma took the adjacent seat.
A knee gently nudged hers. “Go ahead Piper, tell him what happened.”
Piper blinked in surprise; she'd thought Selma would want to do all the talking. She gulped and proceeded to recount the morning’s events to the best of her memory.
Officer Barnes regarded her seriously, taking notes as she spoke.
It wasn’t until Piper finished speaking that Selma finally did. “I understand that without witnesses, this case would entirely be based on a he-said-she-said sort of premise. I would suggest that photographs of—oh, yes. We don't quite know his name yet… hm.” She shook her head at the derailed thought.
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