“Good morning,” she said, hoping both their moods had improved overnight.
“Morning.” Jonathan wore jeans and a gray T-shirt. He sounded more sleepy than furious—a vast improvement over his storminess yesterday.
Alex grabbed a bagel as she turned to Lily. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“Fine,” said Lily. “Daddy let me read my Kindle until eleven o’clock.”
“I take it that’s a rare treat?”
She nodded. “Most nights, I have to go to bed at nine.”
“Well, I guess it’s special, being in a motel and everything,” said Alex.
“Yeah,” Jonathan muttered. “Real special.”
Alex sighed as she watched his mouth draw downward again. As far as lawsuits were concerned, this was only Jonathan’s second rodeo. She needed to remind him of the ground rules. As she spread cream cheese on the bagel, she spoke to them seriously. “We need to leave pretty soon, so let’s talk about what’s going to happen.”
They both looked up. She addressed Lily first. “Sweetheart, your father and I are going to what they call a mediation. All that means is that we’re going to talk things over with your grandparents.”
“And then do I go to Grandpa Moon’s?”
“No. You’re going to stay here and hang out with Cecilia.”
Lily frowned, her expression mirroring her father’s. At first Alex was afraid she might insist on going with them, but after a long moment, she asked, “Can we go swimming again?”
“You sure can. Cecilia also has a car and knows where there’s a mall.”
“Cool,” said Lily, apparently satisfied with her options for the day.
Alex then turned to Jonathan. “We’re scheduled to start at eleven, so we’ll need to leave here in half an hour. We can go in my car.”
“I’ll be ready.” He looked at her without blinking, his tone somewhere between a promise and a threat.
She returned to her room, went over her notes as she dressed, then it was time to go. She grabbed her briefcase and went into the sitting room. Jonathan stood alone, looking out the window. In a dark suit and silver-gray tie, he looked more New York than North Carolina. Mary must have told him to dress up, Alex thought. On his own, Jonathan would have probably shown up with a gun and a knife.
“Where’s Lily?” she asked, hoping they weren’t in for a tearful father-daughter farewell.
“Swimming with Cecilia,” he said. “She gets a kick out of pools. We usually just swim in the creek.”
“I’m glad she’s having fun,” Alex said. “You look terrific, by the way.”
He grunted. “Wish I felt that way.”
They got in Alex’s Jetta and headed southeast on Highway 51. Jonathan sat in the passenger seat like a little boy forbidden to wrinkle his clothes before church. Again she urged him to offer something in the spirit of compromise—summers with the Moons, alternating Christmas vacations, but he refused to budge. All he could talk about was how Fred Moon had destroyed Lily’s trust, Lily’s relationship with Mary, Lily’s once-steady emotional compass. By the time they pulled up at the courthouse, Alex was exhausted. Thank God I married Charlie, she thought as she reached for her briefcase. The only things he obsessed over were coffee in the morning and seven-year-old Bryan’s potential as a pitcher for the Yankees.
As they headed toward the lawyer’s building next to the courthouse, a short man wearing a black-and-white striped turban waved from across the street.
“Who’s that?” asked Jonathan, chuckling at the man’s outfit.
“Sam Hodges,” Alex replied. “Our second chair.”
“Does he always wear a turban?”
“When he goes to court,” said Alex. “Hey, what’s with you guys and turbans, anyway?”
“A bunch of Cherokee chiefs got them when they visited England, back in the 1700s. They liked them so much they came home wearing them.”
Alex laughed. “And you’ve worn them ever since?”
“Some do,” said Jonathan. “I don’t.”
They crossed the street. The two men shook hands, greeting each other in Tsalagi.
“There’s one little wrinkle.” Sam turned to Alex. “The second meeting room’s not available, so we’ll have to do this at one big table.”
“Hmmm,” Alex shot a look at Hodges. “That might present some problems.”
“You want me to reschedule?”
“No, we’re already here.” She turned to Jonathan. “Look, we’re going to have to do this in the same room with the Moons. That means you’ve got to remain calm. No histrionics, no threats. We’ll hear them out, they’ll hear us out. If we’re lucky, we might find some common ground.”
He looked at her with hard eyes. “I’ve told you, Alex. The only common ground between me and Fred Moon is Lily. And she’s not up for negotiation.”
Alex shot Sam a look, then they all went up to the second-floor office of one Laura S. Bagwell, a skinny, weak-chinned young woman who looked like a malevolent rabbit. Though she called Sam “Steve” and her “Mrs. Carver,” Alex noted with amusement that Laura S. Bagwell was absolutely clear on Jonathan’s name.
“We’re so glad that you agreed to this meeting, Mr. Walkingstick,” she said, smiling up at Lily’s father. “We always prefer to avoid court when there’s a child involved.”
Jonathan shot her a look that could have turned her into roast rabbit.
“Are your clients ready to start?” asked Alex, noticing the sheen of sweat on Laura S. Bagwell’s forehead.
“Absolutely.” She led them into a conference room lined with law books. At one end of a long polished table sat the Moons. By Jonathan’s account, Alex expected to see a man in a wife beater T-shirt, a woman in flip-flops and too-tight jeans. Instead, she found a chubby, dark-haired couple who sat like a solemn pair of salt-and-pepper shakers. Like Jonathan, they’d come in their Sunday best—a dandruff-speckled navy blazer for Fred while Dulcy wore a pale yellow pantsuit. Alex noted that the resemblance between Fred Moon and Lily was striking—both had broad Cherokee faces, with lively, wide-set eyes. The couple nodded politely as Laura S. Bagwell made the introductions.
“As I said, Mr. Walkingstick, we appreciate your coming.” She took a seat between the two Moons. “We don’t want to go to court any more than you do.”
Alex smiled as she sat down next to Jonathan, knowing they would have a few more moments of genteel, kissy-face time before the gloves came off. “Since Mr. Walkingstick has traveled halfway across the country in an effort to get this settled, why don’t you tell us exactly what the problem is. It seems to us that Mr. Walkingstick has complied fully with the family court decree in Pisgah County, North Carolina, dated 15 October of last year.”
“He certainly has, Mrs. Carver,” said Laura S. Bagwell. “But as our complaint states, we are gravely concerned over the propriety of having Ruth Moon’s killer raising Ruth Moon’s child.”
“She didn’t kill her and you know it,” Jonathan glared at Fred Moon.
Gently, Alex shushed him. “I take it you’re referring to Mary Crow?”
“Yes,” Ms. Bagwell replied as both Moons nodded like bobble-head dolls. “We cited her in our complaint several times.”
“Then let me remind you that Mary Crow was never charged in Ruth Moon’s death. She was fully exonerated by the Deckard County police department, which determined it to be a case of self-defense.” Alex pulled the official police report from her briefcase and handed it to Laura S. Bagwell.
Bagwell took the papers with an indulgent smile. “Yes, but we also know that Mary Crow had been a long-time prosecutor in Deckard County. Their star prosecutor, according to the local newspaper. The police are known for protecting their own, Mrs. Carver. They would be unlikely to indict their prize attorney. ”
“Especially if she wasn’t guilty,” sa
id Jonathan. “They knew that and so do you.”
“We don’t know that.” Fred Moon spoke for the first time. For a small man he had an amazingly deep voice. “Mary Crow had lots of friends in Atlanta. Ruth only had you.”
Jonathan’s voice grew louder. “Yeah. And after she poisoned me, she tried to kill Mary!”
“Let’s not open old wounds!” Laura Bagwell cried, trying to drown out Jonathan’s voice. “All my clients want is for their grandchild to be raised in a loving environment.”
Jonathan leaned forward. “And what the hell makes you think she hasn’t been?”
Alex squeezed Jonathan’s arm harder. She knew if she didn’t get a handle on him, this could go downhill fast. “Ms. Bagwell, Lily Bird Walkingstick lives in a lovely home, attends the Cherokee United Methodist Church, and maintains a straight A average at John Ross Elementary School.” Alex gave Laura Bagwell a shrug. “I don’t know how much family law you’ve practiced, but that does not connote a child being raised in a non-loving environment.”
“If you love her so, then why is she scared?” Fred Moon lifted a crooked, tobacco-stained finger at Jonathan. “Why have you lied to her? Why do you keep living with the woman who killed her mother?”
Jonathan leapt from his chair before Alex could blink. In a heartbeat he was at the other end of the table, clutching Fred Moon by the lapels of his jacket. “Mary Crow did not kill your daughter!” He started to shake Fred Moon like a rag doll. Dulcy Moon bolted from her chair. “Lily was not afraid of anything until she spent a month with you.”
Jonathan was lifting his fist to strike Fred Moon when Sam Hodges tackled him from behind, grabbing his arm at the very last moment.
“Hahlee waysta!” cried Hodges. “You can’t do that in here!”
“I don’t know why not.” Jonathan shrugged Hodges off. “This bastard’s filled my little girl’s head with so much garbage she might never get over it.”
“Gentlemen!” Laura Bagwell leapt to her feet. “This is a med-
iation—”
“Oh, yeah?” Jonathan dropped Fred Moon and turned blazing eyes on Bagwell. “Then mediate this, sister. Before Lily came to Oklahoma, she was happy. She loved me, she loved her home, she especially loved Mary.” He turned and pointed a finger in Fred Moon’s face. “Now all that’s gone. You and your damn lies took all that away.”
“Get out of my face!” Fred Moon brushed Jonathan’s hand away. “At least you got a little girl left. I got nothing but a box of pictures!”
“Stop it!” Laura Bagwell banged her cell phone on the table. “This is a mediation. You’re not supposed to do this!” Frightened, she turned to Alex. “Counselor, can you please control your client?”
Alex got up and walked over to the two men. “Come on, Jonathan,” she said calmly, stepping between them. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t think we have anything more to say.”
The unfocused rage in Jonathan’s eyes vanished, replaced by a look of cold hatred. He gave a brief, dismissive glare at Dulcy Moon, who stood shivering in the corner, then he walked toward the door. As Sam held it open, he turned to aim one final salvo at Fred Moon.
“I don’t know how you’ve got this rigged up, but the sun will not come up on the day Lily Walkingstick comes to live with you.”
He stormed out the door, Sam following. The room was silent as Alex began putting her papers back in her briefcase.
“Gosh.” Laura Bagwell gave a nervous laugh. “Mr. Walkingstick certainly has an interesting way of expressing himself.”
“That he does,” said Alex, continuing to pack her papers away.
“Are you leaving?” Laura Bagwell’s rabbit nose twitched again.
“I don’t think there’s any real reason to continue.”
“But we’ve got a lot on the table. Custody, visitation.”
“I think my client summed up his position pretty clearly, Ms. Bagwell.”
Laura Bagwell blinked. “You mean his refusal is final?”
“Yes.” Alex picked up her briefcase. “From here on, I think we’d better work this out before a judge.”
Twenty-Six
Ghosts were not on Mary Crow’s mind as she grasped the telephone. She’d been pondering the Stratton case since noon, all the while waiting to hear about the mediation. Now, just as the sun was casting long shadows on her office wall, Alex finally called, spewing profanity that would do all Texans proud. Mary would have laughed at all the “bone-sucking shitheads” and the “four-eyed fucking assholes,” had she not been so scared.
“Calm down, Al!” she cried, fearing that Jonathan had, as he’d threatened, knocked Fred Moon’s ass into next Tuesday. “Quit swearing and tell me what happened.”
“That little bitch is as smug as they come,” Alex fumed. “Said she didn’t want to re-open any old wounds, then proceeded to re-open every old wound she could think of.”
Mary’s heart sank. Some incredibly vicious litigator must be lurking in Tahlequah, Oklahoma.
“I go in there and think oh, boy, no sweat here. She’s young, looks like a rabbit, almost swooned when Jonathan walked in. But no. Her shitty little rabbit nose started twitching and off she went.”
“What did Jonathan do?”
“Oh, Jonathan perked things up quite a bit. Fred Moon made some stupid ass remark and before I know it, Jonathan’s at the other end of the table shaking the guy like a rag doll.”
“Oh, God.” Mary closed her eyes, afraid something like this might happen. “Do I need to arrange bail?”
“No, Sam Hodges got him out of the room before he could throw any punches.” Alex chuckled. “I think Moon’s wife may have wet her pants, though. I gotta tell you Mary, your boy can be a pretty rank horse.”
“Yes, he can.” Mary rubbed the hard knot of tension that clamped down on the back of her neck. “I take it mediation is over for today?”
“Mediation is over forever. I don’t think Dulcy Moon has that many pair of underpants. We’re going to trial in ten days.”
“So are Jonathan and Lily coming home?”
“No, I’m taking them to Texas with me. They can play cowboy with Charlie and the boys. I’ve got a therapist I’d like Lily to talk to.”
“Good idea,” said Mary. “Is Jonathan agreeable to that?”
“He balked at first, but he’s come around. Lily’s a mighty mixed-up little girl.”
Mary’s heart ached for the child. “Do you think I should come out? Make it a family thing?”
“No—I want to see what Dr. Pace says. She usually likes to talk to kids by themselves for a while. Anyway, if you came out here, you’d just drive everybody crazy.”
“No, I wouldn’t. I would—”
“Mary, we’ve gone over this before. The best place for you right now is in North Carolina, tending your own little legal practice.”
“But I can help. I can—”
“Mary. I’ll call you if I need you. Right now we’re all fine.”
“Are you sure?” Mary said, despising this feeling of utter help-
lessness.
“Positive. Now go sue somebody. It’ll do you good.”
“Okay, Alex.” She sighed. “You win. I’ll call you tomorrow.
She hung up the phone. A wave of sadness came over her—it seemed that everything was going wrong in Oklahoma and all she could do was wish them good luck.
For the next ten days, Mary worked hard on Stratton’s defense. Every morning she visited him in jail, and though he tried to contain his frustration, she could tell that the Pisgah County Justice Center was wearing on him. He’d quit shaving and his complexion had gone from golden to sallow. He paced throughout their interviews like a scruffy animal trapped in a cage. All his interns had fled the raptor center after their release from jail. Doris Mager and a dozen other raptor rescuers had immediately volunteered
to adopt Stratton’s birds, but Artie Slade and Willy Jenkins agreed to stay and take care of the animals—Jenkins doing most of the bird cage cleaning, while Slade became the point man for the whole operation. Mary made a point to become friends with Artie, pumping him ever so slightly about the goings-on up there when Lisa Wilson had been alive.
“That gal was nice to me, but crazier than a bedbug when it came to Nick. Stuck to him like fly paper. ’Bout split her britches when he even talked to anybody else.”
“How did Nick feel about her?”
Artie pulled his battered Braves cap lower on his head. “He told me once he’d be glad when she went back to school. I think she gave him the heebie-jeebies.”
She made a note of that as she worked on the case. Evidence-wise, Omer Peacock had not exactly struck gold among the interns. His most damning find had been that Chris Givens had leaked Lisa Wilson’s picture to the Snitch. “He’s a slimy little bastard,” Omer had told Mary. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d carved the girl up just to sell the picture.”
“But where did he get a picture of her?” asked Mary.
“Snapped it with his iPhone before the police got there. Somehow he got a signal out in the woods and sent it to his brother before deleting it so the police wouldn’t know. The brother sat on it till Givens got out of jail then they sold it for twenty-five grand.”
Though Omer confirmed Mary’s low opinion of the boy, selling a picture of a dead body did not make someone a killer. Nothing Peacock dug up about the interns made her think they were anything other than self-indulgent college kids, so she decided to move on to Jenkins and Slade. She was sitting in her office, about to put Peacock on to them when someone rapped on her door.
“Come in,” she said,
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