by Krysta Scott
Of course, the man conveniently omitted his client had cleaned out the bank account two months ago. The parasite masquerading as a doting husband had moved to Oklahoma with more than one hundred thousand dollars in cash. Garrett didn’t have the necessary documentation to prove his actions, but he would soon. He opened his mouth to respond, but Judge Calder’s sharp glare at Arnold’s antics sent its own message. Garrett kept quiet and allowed Arnold to make his case for him.
“We’re here on your motion to modify support alimony, is that correct?” Judge Calder asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Arnold clasped his hands behind his back, ready for argument.
The judge turned in Garrett’s direction. “Since we have already had a hearing regarding your client’s income, is it necessary for her to be present today?”
Arnold’s head snapped toward Garrett. Hope flickered in his expression. Garrett cleared his throat, prepared to douse those expectations. “Yes, Your Honor. My client’s income has changed considerably since our last hearing. In these hard economic times, Ms. Gardner has been forced to take a pay cut. It’s difficult for her to pay the ten thousand a month sum you ordered last time. But she is making those payments every month and on time. Mr. Gardner is requesting twenty thousand per month. She just doesn’t have that.”
“That’s absurd. She owns the company,” Arnold said.
“Be that as it may, the business is not as lucrative as it once was. We will need an evidentiary hearing to prove her lowered income. Besides, Mr. Gardner can always mitigate his situation by getting a job.”
“My client was laid off.”
“More like quit.”
“That’s not true. In any case, Ms. Gardner should have been here today. It’s not like this hearing came out of the blue. She’s had two months to prepare her arguments.” Arnold pounded his fist on the bench. Judge Calder’s eyes narrowed but Arnold was too far gone to notice the icy mood that descended upon the courtroom. “I insist we hear the matter today without Ms. Gardner. Mr. Nightshade is completely capable of protecting the interests of his client.”
“Mr. Nightshade.” Judge Calder peered at him over thick glasses. “Why isn’t Ms. Gardner here?”
“Your Honor.” Garrett offered a half-shrug. “Ms. Gardner lives out of state. Times being what they are, she can’t afford to make numerous trips for hearings. Because you have been sick so often lately, I wasn’t sure your court would be in session today. Rather than have my client make a wasted trip, I advised her not to come.”
Arnold smirked. No doubt waiting for Garrett to receive a huge ass chewing. It would be a long wait. Arnold didn’t have Garrett’s uncanny powers of persuasion.
“I see.” Judge Calder rested his chin on his shaking hands. “That actually makes sense.”
“What?” Arnold lifted his hands in an ‘are you crazy?’ gesture. “Ms. Gardner lives in Dallas. That’s two and a half hours away. Three if you drive slowly. There’s no good reason for her not to be here.”
“Mr. Nightshade’s correct,” Judge Calder said. “I’ve been ill a good portion of the past year. It would be a large imposition for someone to travel from out of state only to have to turn back without relief from this court.”
“That’s not an excuse.” Arnold’s face infused with red, deepening his ruddy complexion. Garrett stifled a grin. Appearing too cocky would undermine his efforts. “This hearing has been on the docket for months. A quick call to your clerk would have been all it took to let him know court would be in session today.”
“I did call your clerk. She couldn’t confirm you would be here today.”
Judge Calder nodded. “I’ll continue this matter two weeks. I expect your client to be here on that day, Mr. Nightshade. My health is in very good condition at present. I expect this matter to be resolved at our next hearing.”
“Absolutely, Your Honor.” Garrett collected his file and turned to leave.
“Your Honor…” Arnold wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief.
“You’re excused, Mr. Darning. I’ve ruled.”
Garrett hurried out. The court couldn’t do anything without both attorneys. If he stepped back to the bench, he risked a re-hash of the arguments. He pushed the doors open and exited into the hallway. A hand grabbed his arm in a vice grip.
“You arrogant son of a bitch.” Arnold’s face turned purple.
“Okay.” Garrett narrowed his gaze on the hand at his wrist.
Arnold’s hand fell away as if burned.
“What do you have on Judge Calder? You couldn’t have gotten your continuance any other way.”
Garrett looked down his nose at his defeated opponent. “Mr. Darning, if you think I have been unethical, file your lawsuit. Otherwise, I suggest you mind your tongue. Slander is expensive.”
With one last sputter, Arnold stomped off. His recently vacated space was replaced by Garrett’s boss, David Barnes. Barnes clapped him on the back. “Making friends?”
“Arnold accused me of being unethical.”
The two men walked toward the exit. In just a few short steps, they would be out of the courthouse and away from the hate infused floor.
“Interesting. Why is that I wonder?”
“Seems to think I have Judge Calder in my pocket.”
Barnes chuckled. “He’d shit bricks if he knew the truth.”
Garrett’s chuckle froze in his throat as he walked past a woman slouched over a small object in her hand. Her brown hair draped around her face leaving him inexplicably curious about her. There was something so defeated about her posture. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Startled green eyes met his gaze. Then a slight wisp of a smile curved her lips. “I’m fine. It’s been a tough morning.”
There was nothing weak about her rich husky voice. Even the mundane words held fire and determination.
“Hey, you coming, Garrett?” David held the door open with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Yes, just a second.” He returned to the woman possessing way too much of his attention warranted by the situation. For some reason, he wanted to stay and help her through whatever had sullied her day. But that was foolish. She probably didn’t need his help anyway. He offered her a wide grin. “I hope your day gets better.”
“Thank you.”
With a nod, he was out the door.
****
The evening sun cast long shadows over the ramshackle wooden porch of a house that leaned a little far to the left. If this was a normal business call, Nikki would have been itching to get inside to have a look around. But she already knew what she would find behind the door with white peeling paint. A life in the midst of failure. If she could avoid coming here, she would. But she had to be here, because the man inside was the only person alive who could give her the answers she needed.
Inhaling deeply, she knocked. Rustling like sewer rats accompanied the heavy clomps as the inhabitant stumbled his way to the entrance. Nikki shuddered. It had been a while since she’d been here. From the sound of it, the interior was worse than before. Finally, the door opened. A wrinkled face with an unruly white beard peered through the crack.
“What are you doing here?” The sour smell of alcohol wafted over her with each of his slurred words.
“Hi, Dad, I need to talk to you.”
“At this time of night?”
“It’s only six. I’m coming from work.”
He sneered, clearly not impressed. Evidently, he hadn’t forgotten what had transpired the last time they spoke. Neither had she, but she wasn’t going to let him know that.
There was a brief stand-off until he finally rolled his eyes and barked, “You better come in. This isn’t the neighborhood for people dressed as hoity toity as you.” He opened the door a smidge wider, and she stepped inside the musty house. She followed him through a narrow hall lined with stacked magazines and newspapers on either side.
Things had gotten bad for her dad. She doubted that
she could get any meaningful information out of him. But she had to try. He stopped in front of a bar with neon beer signs on the wall behind. He stood there while she removed a stack of papers from a stool. She preferred to stand, but that would give away her impatience. She gingerly took a seat at the edge and waited him out.
He pulled out a large bottle of scotch and rummaged through the debris on the bar for two glasses.
“Dad, could you not do that while I’m here?”
“Now, look here, Miss Prissy Britches, this is my home and you won’t be telling me how to behave here.” He filled both glasses a third of the way and offered one to her. She shook her head. He did his usual half-nod-eye-roll thing then tossed back a swig of scotch.
“You know, it’s hard to talk to you when you’re like this.” There were so many things she would like to say, but it was useless. Simply put, her dad didn’t care about her opinion. Never had. She smoothed her skirt and waited for the onslaught of his usual criticism
“Look here, missy.” He punctuated the words with his glass, as if giving an exuberant toast, but all he managed was sloshing alcohol over the side onto the bar. He made no move to wipe it up, or even acknowledge the spill. But then, living in a pit like this, what was one more stain on the woodwork? “I’d be a little more grateful if I were you. I’ve done right by you and how do you repay me? By taking that low-life government job, Guardian whatever.”
“Guardian Ad Litem.” He’d had higher ambitions for her, but how could she work for one of those mover and shaker firms when the whole reason not to was right in front of her? She sighed. There was no reason to tell him again that she represented children in high conflict divorce cases. The importance of their voices being heard. He never listened anyway.
Nikki picked up a framed picture, the only thing standing upright in the bar area. The family—her family—stared back at her. She traced the images lightly with her finger. Her mother, her father, Cassie, and herself. It was from sixteen years ago—the last time they were intact and happy. Tears surfaced and the years melted away. Once more she was a little girl staring into a casket at her dead sister. An ache pierced her heart, and she drew in a deep breath, wiping her eyes before the tears fell…before he knew she was crying.
The man who stood across from her in his stained undershirt and ripped jeans bore no resemblance to the well-groomed man from the photo dressed in an expensive navy suit. But she guessed she didn’t resemble the dark-haired girl with the gazillion-watt smile, either. They needed Cassie and her mom to make them complete. Both were gone.
She set the picture back in its place and focused on her dad.
“Why are you here?” he grumbled.
“I received a weird package at work today.” She fumbled in her purse for the small velvet box. She wrapped her fingers tightly around it. The soft fabric was cool, but its contents burned with the promise of illumination. “The message said it came from Mom.”
He stiffened but didn’t ask any questions, yet she had the impression he was waiting for the sick punch line at the end of her statement. As if he knew what was coming next. She rested the box on the counter and opened it without ceremony. The green gemstone reflected the dull light coming from the fixture above them. “Did Mom own this?”
He turned his head as if to look away, but his narrowed eyes never left the pendant. His face seemed to pale, but surely it was a trick of the neon lighting behind him. He didn’t say anything for several seconds. He just stared at it like it would jump out at him and slit his throat. He knew what it was, but was he going to tell her?
“Where did you get that?”
“A strange old man gave it to me after court. It came with this note.” She pulled the note from her suit pocket and handed it to him.
He scanned the message then tossed it into the sink as if it had thorns. He slammed his glass onto the hard surface and placed both hands on the edge. Hanging his head, he took several deep breaths before he kicked the bar, shaking all the contents. “She never owned anything like that, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from those people.”
“Who?”
“The Guild,” he spat, showering the air around him with moisture. “They’ll pretend like they’re going to help you and then bend you over backwards and fuck ya. They’ll strip you of everything you care about. They don’t even protect their own. Don’t trust them. Don’t trust any of them.”
Nikki swallowed. “What are you talking about?” She didn’t know what else to say. This was the longest, most emphatic speech he had made since he lost his job at the firm. She had never seen him argue a case when he practiced law, but word on the street was that he was something to see before his fall from grace.
“The Guild, that’s what.” He drained his glass, then grabbed hers.
“You aren’t making any sense.”
“Just stay away from them, Nikki. You don’t need any part of them. Now leave me alone.”
****
Nikki was drained, emotionally and physically, when she crawled into bed that night. She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the disturbing confrontation with her father. But her mind refused to obey, and sleep was a long time coming. She took in deep, slow breaths and willed her pent up muscles to relax.
The body didn’t belong to Nikki, but somehow she was layered within the essence of the woman, crawling for her life along the damp ground. Nikki sucked in the same breath, reached out the same arm, and strained to move inch by precious inch along the thick overgrown lawn. The woman’s every move was somehow hers.
She tried to separate her experience from the woman’s, but they remained one. She dug her fingers into the soil, splintering her nails, sending sharp pulsing pain up her arms. With one voice, she whimpered, “Why are you doing this?”
There’s no time for that. Move! Nikki urged the woman onward. In turn, the woman redoubled her efforts. Straining with all her force, she yanked them incrementally further along the cold, hard ground.
“Where are you going?” a cruel voice said just behind them. The loud crack of a gunshot echoed, then a bullet tore into their calf muscle. Hot searing pain coursed through their flesh. She screamed, grabbing the injured leg, twisting to look up at their tormentor. The darkness of nightfall hid all but the moonlight reflecting off the muzzle of the rifle. Warm, thick blood leaked between her fingers.
“Parker, stop,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this.”
“Why not?” Parker laughed. “You deserve this, you bitch. You dare to take my daughter away from me? You deserve this and worse.”
“I didn’t do that. The judge—”
“Don’t give me that shit. He wouldn’t have known anything if you hadn’t told him. You started it, and I’m gonna end it.” Parker pointed the gun at them.
She raised her hands to block her view. Nikki squeezed her internal eyes shut. This can’t be happening.
“No! For God’s sake. No!” Nikki braced herself for the end, but Parker didn’t fire.
She opened her eyes, and he was lowering the gun. “I’m not going to shoot you.”
She dropped her hands. Hope surged through them.
“Shooting you would be too quick.” He flipped the gun around and slammed the butt down on her head.
Get out! Get out! A new masculine voice roared within Nikki’s mind. Get out! Now!
The ground beneath her quaked, hurtling Nikki forward. Finally free of the other woman, she was falling, and there was nothing beneath her. She grabbed for something to stop her descent. Her fingers found nothing but the air that whooshed inside her ears. She was going to hit bottom.
She jerked upright up in bed, clinging to sweat-soaked sheets, her heart hammering against her chest.
“What the hell kind of nightmare was that?” she gasped.
****
Garret sat up in bed, jerked the covers off, and swung his legs over the side. His toes stretched against the cold, hardwood floor, grounding themselves and him back
into reality.
The phone on his nightstand rang for what had to be the eighth time. He cursed himself for not removing the phone from his bedroom, and for not setting up his voicemail. All that did was prompt the caller to redial every time Garrett failed to answer. He dropped his head into his palms as the incessant ringing continued. Although he was required to be available at all hours, he would never get used to the early morning interruptions.
He snatched up the phone. “What?’
“Mr. Nightshade?” an unfamiliar masculine voice asked.
“Yes.” Who else would it be at 1:00 in the morning? Garrett stilled his annoyance and waited for the caller’s next move.
“My name is Lars Hanover. Adelaide gave me your name and number. There’s been some trouble.”
Garrett rubbed his forehead with his palm. It was never a good situation when his mother was involved. He needed to clear his mind—to wake up. “What kind of trouble?”
“My son lost his temper tonight and beat his wife badly enough to land her in the hospital. He’s been arrested.”
Garrett took a pen and a small pad from the drawer of his nightstand. Dread burned through his stomach lining. He didn’t have a problem using his talents to influence a judge for a client with a righteous cause. But there was no way he would use them to benefit some jerk who put his wife in the hospital. “What’s his name?”
“Parker Hanover. He’s being held at county jail.”
“Look, I’ll visit him in the morning and look into the matter. After I meet with him, I’ll know whether or not I can represent him.”
“Fair enough.” A pause on the other end of the line alerted Garret there was another reason for the call. “There is one more matter I need you to attend to.”
“What is it?”
“You are the protector of our rights, correct?”
“I try to protect the rights of all my clients, once they actually become my client, that is.”
“Cut the bullshit, Mr. Nightshade. I know you’re one of us. You’re part of the Guild and the scuttlebutt is that you enforce for us.”