"G.G. got hurt?" he asks quietly.
"Yes, Ryan, G.G. hurt her head but she's getting better." It's all I have, and thankfully Grace pipes in.
"Ryan, remember when you came to see Mommy in a room like this? A hospital is a place where people who are hurt or sick come to get better," she says matter-of-factly, while making faces at her granddaughter. Ever the multitasker.
"Oh." He doesn't look convinced. "Do you haff a cold?"
Grace laughs lightly. "You have one brilliant boy, Krissy," she mumbles to me. "It's something like that. My head was sick, and so I had to take a special kind of medicine to get better," she tells him.
"Why?" he asks.
Grace raises an eyebrow, and then winks at me. "Why what, Ryan?"
"Why your head sick?"
Okay, that parenting book specifically said the "why" stage was still a ways off. We can't be there yet.
Grace looks a little lost, not something I'd expect from a veteran pediatrician like Dr. Grace Trevelyan. It dawns on me that we're probably thinking the same thing. "Well, um… sometimes our bodies get hurt, and we need help fixing them. Do you remember when Mr. Leo's leg ripped, and Auntie Mia fixed him for you?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, a tiny little piece of my head, so tiny that you can't see it, ripped too, and the doctors here had to use special medicine to fix it." Thank you, Grandma Grace, for sparing him from what I'm certain are very gory details.
"Oh," he says. "Med-sins yucky."
I giggle. "Ryan, I bet G.G. would love for you to draw her a picture," I say, handing him a chunky kid-grip stylus from my purse.
"No!" Ryan declares, forgetting his line of questioning and busies himself with his tablet, effectively tuning us out.
"He's becoming very intuitive. And contrary, the little darling. You and Edward must have your hands full," Grace tells me.
Edward… the events of the last day force their way to the front of my mind again, though I swore before we arrived that I would keep them under the rug. "Yes, he sure is," I say.
"Krissy? Is everything all right?" Grace asks, her face changing to one of concern. Her eyes twitch over to Kate and then back to me, and I know she's wondering if Kate is privy to the most recent developments… Edward did mention that they'd spoken. God, why does this have to be so hard?
"We're fine. Yesterday was just… difficult," I admit, hoping my face isn't betraying too much. "I believe Edward said he'd stop by later on, if his research doesn't keep him." I settle for the half-truth, already twitching inwardly. I hate lying, and I'm terrible at it.
Grace smiles knowingly. Well, as much as there is for her to know… and I'm not about to add to it. "I'm sure he will when he can."
We stay an hour, finally retreating though Grace refused to admit how tired she was; she loves her grandbabies so dearly.
"Thanks for the redirections," I say, balancing a sleeping Ryan in my arms. Naptime is upon us, once again.
""You did great. Really held it together, I'm proud of you," Kate tells me, matching my slow gait toward the exit doors, Ava nodding off against her shoulder.
"Do you think she suspects?"
Kate's eyebrows go up. "Grace? Suspicious? Steele, her mother-henning knows no bounds. Of course she knows something's up. But she's sensitive enough to know that you'll tell her when you're ready, and tactful enough not to pry into touchy subjects in front of the kids."
"You still call me Steele, why is that?"
"Habit, I suppose. Your hubby calls me Kavanagh, sometimes. Usually in response to me calling you Steele." She rolls her eyes. "It's just friendly banter. I'm surprised you didn't ask me that last night."
"My mind was elsewhere last night."
"It still is, I bet."
I sigh. "Carrick wants to meet with me later, to talk about everything. I'm getting nervous about what he and Edward might have found, and nowhere near ready for another bomb to drop."
"That's what this has been like, huh?" Kate sympathizes. "I wish I could do more."
"Oh Kate, you've done plenty. I'm so glad you're here."
"I'll always be here for you Steele. You know that."
"You too, Kate." And she really is here for me, like last night. It was the first time we'd really been alone since this all began. I knew Kate's talent for investigation was exceptional, but honestly, she blew me away with her up-close-and-brutal evaluation of my husband. It seems my concern over his control-freakery doesn't go unshared, but in the end, Edward has Kate's vote, and that means worlds to me. "I never saw us marrying brothers," I say, attempting to lighten the mood. "Two very different brothers, or so I'm gathering."
"You noticed that, huh?" Kate teases. "Don't worry, Steele. Like I said, Edward is a good guy. I'm sure he's working like crazy to bring you home; you'll be back together before you know it."
"I hope so," I answer her. Sawyer holds the car door open, and I busy myself strapping Ryan into his car seat. My mind wanders again. But… what will happen to us if he can't?
~ EDWARD ~
"Do you have it?"
"Not yet. Close of business, at the latest. Freddy's sitting at the evidence desk until the controller releases it; he'll call when it's in-hand. We're lucky we're getting it today at all , and not next week." Dad sets a file box on my desk and shuffles out of his suit jacket. "Show me what you have."
I set to pacing behind the desk, waving my hand at the mess of paperwork spread to every corner, across several chairs and taped to the back window. "Kane is good," I admit, shaking my head with a hint of disbelief. "Bloody well-educated, all the right connections, full credentials as a detective... and he seems to have a hard-on for the wealthy spousal-abuser." I pick up a thick stack of stuffed manila folders. "These? Just the cases I've been able to peel through and it's only the career highlights. I'd have to massacre a forest to print the rest." I drop the folders onto a chair and thumb through the desk-scatter. "He went from winning a prestigious assistantship at the Jackson D.A.'s office to becoming the golden boy at a private law firm in the same city, but he's all over the place, taking cases out of state… and," I stab my finger into the desk, "he almost. never. loses.
"Now…" I continue around the desk, "I think I've stumbled onto a pattern of sorts. Kane started out with abuse-related cases over two decades ago. It's not clear whether he was involved by chance or if he chose these, but he and his partners were often sought out by abused trophy-wives and sports heroes' battered girlfriends and the like, or by their families. This is where things get interesting. After a while, he didn't need new clients to come to him, because he'd gone digging for the clients he wanted, and found them in spades. He's based out of the law firm in Jackson, keeps his original partners on-hand, but he's become a lone wolf of sorts. Kane latches onto some rich fucker… sorry… individual, follows him around until he has enough to make a case. The he reports the guy, and in a handful of cases, woman, to the authorities. His notes are shoddy at best, so it's not clear from those how he finds what he does, but he throws some huge evidence-bomb on the table to get their ass hauled in. And," I add, stabbing my finger onto the desk, "since he's already done the legwork, he almost always represents the victim."
"So he's a rogue…" my father begins, his eyebrows climbing. If there's anyone my father abhors more than a criminal, it's a clandestine practitioner of law.
"If only…" I shake my head, "in the definitive sense, yes, but he's not the type you'd expect in a classic rogue. He always consults with local authorities and follows the letter of the law, even if just barely… but he essentially works alone. He's critically deficient in working with family members and witnesses. He largely doesn't consult with any character references prior to filing for preliminary warrants and injunctions, and he's found some standing federal loophole that permits lawful removal of the victims from the premises without prior notice or consent if the removal of the offender does not alleviate the danger to the victim."
Dad snaps his fingers. "That's
what that infuriating social worker was blathering about. I've filed an injunction to stall the restraining order, but your loophole may put a stop to that." He runs his thumb over his bottom lip. I ponder offhand that I've picked up that same habit from him. "Your close protection… Taylor and the rest…"
"I imagine that's the danger they insinuate … Krissy and Ryan never leave their sight. My standing orders. I'd like it to remain that way."
"All right. I understand your motivation, but let's not overwhelm Gretchen; keep it to one or two of your men at the house. The restraining order doesn't include your posse… yet. Let's try not to get anyone else's movements restricted if we can help it." He crosses to the end of the room, pensive for a long moment, and then turns back. "You've deduced all of this since last night?"
"Most of it in the last three hours, but yes."
"Under different circumstances, I'd implore you to reconsider a career in law," he tells me.
"Under different circumstances, I'd have no interest. I just want my family back, Dad."
"I know, that, Edward. I do. And I won't stop fighting until they're back home with you, but at least they're safe and sound, with family." My father comes around the desk to examine the paperwork I've taped to the glass wall. "What were you so worked up about when you called?"
"These." I pull my center drawer, palm a handful of papers and throw them onto the desk. They slide to a stop, fanning out. "Kane's notes are incomplete… because he doesn't really need them. He tells the victim's story in pictures."
Dad turns back to the desk, his hand hovering over the printed photos. None were professionally taken, that was certain. Most were probably produced by a cellphone camera or other such inconspicuous device as evident by their borderline-grainy, blurred quality, but the subject cannot be debated… and each scene is more disturbing than the last.
"Christ."
"Indeed," I swallow. Whatever smoking gun Kane has on me, it's likely in full color.
"You mentioned something about photos when we spoke this morning," he approaches the subject delicately. "Could they have anything to do with this?"
"Doubtful. Those photos have never left my possession, and I appear in none of them."
"You're certain." It isn't a question.
"Yes."
"Then what could he possibly have on you?"
"I honestly have no idea. Something taken out of context, perhaps."
He nods. "Think on that a while. We won't have the rest of the evidence until Monday; I'd like to anticipate what we'll be looking at, literally." Dad picks up the stuffed folders and returns to the leather sofa. "In the meantime, I'll comb these for some preliminary strategic details and then I'm meeting with the partners at two. The letter should be released by the time that's done, and then you and I will reconvene."
"Dad, about this morning…"
"Edward," my father sighs. "I've hardly had the opportunity to wrap my head around it. Rest assured, it stays between us. I don't believe for a second that you'd harm your wife or your son, but Mr. Kane obviously has evidence to suggest you have, and by law, it must be stronger than words on a page."
Dad's in full business mode as I'd expected, but a small part of me had hoped he'd be a bit more reassuring. Even for a moment. Damn it all, I feel as though I'm fucking falling apart. I swallow the persistent backwash of stomach acid and beckon the haze of control to settle upon me. Yes, there it is. Only this way can I keep it together.
"Give me a task," I insist.
Dad thumbs open the top case folder. "You've laid some impressive groundwork. Download everything you have to a jump drive, I'll need to pass it along to my team. Then give John a call; if you're absolutely confident in him, he may as well be a character witness. Have him coordinate with Krissy for a full psychological profile; have him supply an independent for the evaluation… the court may see it as a conflict of interest and not allow John to fill both roles; better to be proactive than for the court to assign one of their diggers. I suggest that you submit to a profile of your own as well." My father hasn't met my eyes once.
That last directive startles me. "Why?"
He looks up, irritatedly. "As a gesture. Show them you're not the monster they're making you out to be." Obviously.
I swallow. He's right, of course; that would be the most prudent course of action. I don't know what's wrong with me. God, anything to do with the company and I have my shit together, always a mile ahead of the competition. But with Krissy… reason and decorum escape me.
That part of my subconscious, the part I'd swept away, cast aside with the remains of my old life, pokes at me from within a womb of forgotten things. It's asking to come out. It wants to take over, to become the veil again, that cocooned me from the world, deflected all that could damage me. Oh, how easy it would be, to let the little bugger out and slip into the old way… to be the bastard I despised, but who never lost, never failed. I swallowed, ill-prepared to take the leap, or the plunge… in this case… right away. My voice frightens me a little when next I speak. "And then?"
Dad sniffs. "Use your talents, Edward. You're a negotiator. It'll do you service as you prepare your defense."
It seems he's made the decision for me.
~oOo~
There was a time, not long enough ago, when I was content to remain satisfied with what little love there was in my life. I loved my parents, of course, and my brother and sister. I accepted that on some level, they loved me as well. If only out of familial obligation… but beyond that, there was a vast abyss, the veil, separating me from what soulful things no sum of money could reach. And I was content in this knowledge; that the way things are would have to suffice.
I'm falling toward that equilibrium. The paradigm shift that is Kristina Rose, my reason for questioning all the deeply-ingrained norms to which I'd been accustomed, keeps that painfully comfortable balance… that dry, cool place where non-perishables are kept… just out of reach. The fates like to remind me that I never deserved her. I suppose it's all well and good that, for the moment, I've decided not to feel.
The yard is empty without my son's laughter. Ludwig and Tess frolic through the tall grass, chasing one another… and once in a while, they return to the back door, looking for their missing friend. My heart splinters a bit more, jabbing holes in the veil. They say that a parent will often hear their child's voice, even when he isn't there… Flynn had a word for it, a phantom- something-or-other, not unlike the remembrance of a severed limb. I swore I heard him call to me earlier, and I tore across the house, daring not to hope… and here I've been ever since, staring through plate-glass toward the setting sun over the water.
"Sir? May I do anything for you?"
"No, thank you." I don't recognize my voice. Gail shuffles away quietly. She'll ask the same question in an hour or so.
My Blackberry buzzes in my pocket, the screen displaying "Ray Steele." The forced breath that enters my lungs tastes like last year's sour milk, displacing the subtle relief that Krissy's father has finally deigned to return my call.
"King."
"Edward? Ray. My daughter just called me. What the hell is going on over there?"
I suck in a breath. "I'm glad Krissy was able to talk to you," I begin. Hopefully Ray won't hate me when this is all said and done, but it's a secondary goal, to be sure. "I'm going to take care of everything. Some rogue lawyer-gone-detective from Mississippi is stirring up trouble. He's made ludicrous accusations against me, and had Krissy and Ryan removed from the house yesterday evening. I believe he was hoping that Krissy would accept his representation, but my father was able to put a stop to that…"
"Yes, yes, Annie told me that part. What the hell are they basing this on? Did something happen? Did you… tell me the truth, Edward, because she wouldn't tell me… did you…"
"No, Ray, I would never… nothing's happened to cause such drastic overreaction. Be assured I'm doing everything in my power to get to the bottom of this. My father is trying to sto
p the restraining order but as the accusations have been made and some paperwork filed, the court has no choice but to proceed..."
"Restraining order? What restraining order?" he cuts me off again.
I pause. "What exactly did Krissy tell you?"
"Apparently not everything," his tone is exasperated. "She said some social worker took her and the baby downtown, and Carrick picked them up and took them home. If they had some beef with you, why didn't they just drag you off?"
That thought had of course occurred to me, several times, and I'm still sitting on speculation. "There's some loophole in the law that allows an adult to be removed from the home if their safety is in question, but only if the removal of the accused offender doesn't resolve the issue. I'm still trying to figure out how that pertains to our home, but it's a threadbare statute open to multiple interpretations. I'm hoping that'll be the first leg we yank out from under this guy."
"Well he's messing with the wrong family," he snorts. I'm not sure if he means mine, his, or collectively, but he's absolutely right.
"Ray," I inhale to calm the demons within. "I assure you. Kristina and Theodore are and have always been my highest priority. If I were ever a danger to them, I'd remove myself and get as far away as I can. I'd never allow harm to come to them."
He sighs. "Yeah, I know. Just wanted to hear it from you myself." In man-speak, I suppose this means I have his vote. "Has Annie called her mother?"
"We're still working out how to tell Carla, but I think she and my father will conference call her this weekend. Part of the injunction restricts communication between Krissy and I, so I have to rely upon him for details, and with my mother in the hospital…"
"What? What happened to Grace?"
Fuck, Krissy didn't tell him that either. I sigh. "She collapsed at work a couple days ago; they found a small brain aneurysm and operated immediately. She's… recovering." I swallow. "She doesn't know anything about these proceedings yet."
"Wow. I'm glad she's okay; that's a lot to deal with."
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