by Mark Stone
“All I want is for that bitch to stay away from me!” the man screamed.
“You’re insane! I don’t even know you!” Daphne yelled in response.
“Coming to the home of her brother is a weird way to ensure she stays away from you,” I answered.
“She knows what she did,” the man said. “She knows why she’s really here, and I won’t have it! You’re wrong, Daphne! He’s dead! He’s been dead for years!”
“Who is?” Daphne balked. “Who’s dead?”
“Enough!” I yelled, throwing my hands out in front of me to stop this madness. “Have you heard the name Boomer Anderson? What about the name Dillon Storm? One is the chief of police here in Naples and another is the best damn detective you’ll meet this side of the Mississippi. Now, they’re good friends of Justin’s here, and they are literally on their way. So, unless you’re interested in bringing the police in on this, I’d suggest you get the hell out of here.”
The man looked at me for a long time. Finally, looking past me, he growled at Daphne. “You stay away from us.”
“Gladly,” Daphne answered.
With that, the man got into a black car and drove off. I made a point to memorize the license plate.
Chapter 6
“Rick. Would you mind going back in and making sure we’re okay on ice?” Justin asked me, shooting me a nod from across the back porch and raising his beer at me.
“Sure thing,” I said, finishing off my own drink and standing. A few hours had passed since the altercation in the yard and, though the party was in full swing, I couldn’t help but think about what had happened before. Of course, it didn’t seem to be bothering Rick. He was having a hell of a time, drinking, laughing, and trading stories with Dillon, Boomer, and Ethan Sands. The conversation had twisted its way from work, to baseball, and finally to classic movies. By going back inside to check on the ice, I was going to miss a debate about which ‘Godfather’ was the best, but that was okay. For my money, you couldn’t beat part two, even if I was something of a purist in all other aspects of my life.
Pushing off from the table, I turned and headed back into Justin’s kitchen. I slid open the glass door and started toward the fridge. As I did though, I heard a bit of crying and a shuffling of feet in the corner. Turning, I saw Daphne standing up, wiping her eyes and running a hand through her hair. In this light, she looked a lot like my friend. Her features were very similar, though obviously much softer, than her brother’s. Still, it made me feel instantly close to her.
“Are you okay?” I asked, stepping toward her.
“I’m fine,” she said, sniffling and sighing at the same time. “I’m just being ridiculous. That’s all.”
“You’re not being ridiculous,” I answered, shaking my head at her. ‘What happened to you earlier was scary.” I waited a beat before continuing. “I’d imagine it was even scarier than it either Justin or I could imagine.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked with narrowing eyes. “Are you saying I should be more afraid because I’m a woman?”
“Not at all,” I answered. “I’ve been around enough amazing, self-sufficient women to know that you guys are more than capable of fending for yourselves. That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” Daphne asked, placing her hands palm down on the counter.
“You’re going to make me spell it out for you, aren’t you?” I asked, smiling. “You weren’t being honest with your brother about what happened out there.”
Daphne gasped. “What are you talking about?” She bit her lower lip.
“Come on, Daphne,” I said, tapping my fingers against the countertop myself. “I’ve seen more victims of domestic violence and other sorts of abuse than I would ever care to remember. I saw you out there, and something was off. You looked scared, but you didn’t look confused. You didn’t look like a woman who had no idea what was going on.” I nodded. “You know that man. It’s none of my business, and I’ll make sure your brother doesn’t hear the truth from me, if that’s what you want. But you know that man. I have no doubt about that.”
Her eyes widened and then went glassy with tears. Before I could say another word, Daphne Knight broke down sobbing.
“Daphne,” I said, rounding the counter quickly and meeting her with a pat on the back and a shoulder to cry on. “Are you okay? Has this man threatened you before?” I turned her toward me. “Because, if he has, there are two cops in the backyard as well as the district attorney for the whole damn county. I’m guessing you could have that abusive blowhard in custody and charged with a laundry list of crimes within the hour.”
“It’s not that simple,” Daphne said, the breath catching in her throat. “There are other circumstances. There are things at play.”
“What kind of things?” I asked, studying her face for any sign of a clue and coming up empty.
“I can’t tell you,” she answered. “If anyone ever found out, if my brother found out-” Her eyes went wide as she pushed away from me. “Wait. You’re a lawyer.”
“I am,” I answered uneasily. “Just like your brother.”
“Forget my brother! He can’t help me with this,” Daphne said. “He can’t know about this. No one can.”
“Okay,” I answered, shaking my head. “I’m confused, Daphne. Do you have a legal problem with this man?”
“I have a lot of problems with him,” she answered. “And I have for a long time. I think you might be able to help me, but I can’t talk to you about this if I can’t be sure you won’t say anything to Justin.”
The idea of lying to Justin didn’t sit well with me, especially considering we were talking about his sister. His sister was a grown woman though. She was an adult, capable of making her own decisions. What was more, she was in trouble. If she didn’t want her brother to know what kind of trouble that was, if the only way I could help her was in the shadows, then wouldn’t that make it okay? Wouldn’t it be for the best?
“Consider this a consultation,” I said. “My fee is usually a couple hundred bucks, but I figure you get the friends and family of the firm discount, which means I’ll hear you out for a crisp dollar bill. The best part about it is that you’re covered by attorney/client privilege. That means I couldn’t talk to your brother about it even if I wanted to.”
“I know what attorney/client privilege is,” Daphne answered, digging into her purse and producing a dollar bill. “I don’t know how crisp it is,” she continued, handing it to me.
“It’ll get the job done,” I said. “Now, do you want to go somewhere more private to talk?”
“There’s no need,” Daphne said. “My brother loves a crowd. He especially loves talking to a crowd. I think it’s why he became a lawyer in the first place. As long as they‘re sitting out there, he wouldn’t dare come in here. We’re fine.”
“I’m comfortable if you are,” I said, leaning against the counter. “What’s up? And remember, nothing you could say could shock me. I’ve heard it all at this point.”
Daphne swallowed hard. “The man you saw in the front yard with me is named Dr. Stephen Trapp. Eighteen years ago, he stole my son. That’s the real reason I came to Naples, Rick. I’m here to make that right!”
My eyes went wide and my mouth went dry as my jaw hung open.
“Remember how I said that nothing you could say could shock me, Daphne?” I muttered, looking at the woman with unblinking eyes. “I think I might have spoken too soon.”
Chapter 7
“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything,” Daphne said, her mouth thinning into a straight line and tears welling up anew in her eyes.
“No. I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head as a pang of guilt flowered in my chest. “I shouldn’t have said that. You just took me by surprise. That’s all. Your brother told me that you didn’t have any children.”
Daphne swallowed hard, massaging her temples with her thumb and index finger. “That’s because Justin doesn’t know. In fac
t, no one knows.”
“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the woman. “You couldn’t be more than a couple of years older than Justin. There’s no way you could have had a baby without him being in on it. And what about your parents?”
“My parents have no idea any of this happened,” she answered softly. “You have to understand, our father was a hard man. He wasn’t abusive or anything, but he expected us to behave a certain way. He had a very clear image of the way the world should work, of the way his family should look. Having a seventeen-year-old daughter giving birth to a kid out of wedlock wouldn’t have fit into his plan.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t deal with the idea of him being disappointed in me. So, I left. I know it’s stupid but, back then, leaving everything and having to fend for myself while pregnant was less frightening than having to face the disapproval of my father.”
“That makes more sense than you know,” I said, thinking about all the cases I’d taken over the years that involved fractured families and the horrors that could sprout when they didn’t deal with each other in a healthy manner. “So, you did what exactly?”
“I ran away,” she said. “I knew I was going to have the baby. I never questioned that, but raising it with my family wasn’t an option. So, I decided to go out into Iowa. I had a friend who had just moved to Des Moines and she offered to get me a job at the grocery store she was working at back then.” Daphne shook her head, burying her mouth with her hand. “Isn’t that ridiculous? I was going to do everything on my own. I was going to have my baby and raise that baby on the salary of a grocery clerk.” She blinked hard. “In the end, I thought what happened was an act of mercy somehow.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking at the woman with sympathy filling my heart. “What happened?”
“I went into labor one night. It was a couple of weeks early, but nothing insane,” she answered. “I wasn’t even concerned really. I had been seeing Dr. Trapp for most of the pregnancy. My friend’s father set it up for me, and he offered to help me pro bono, for no money at all. I thought he was just about the greatest man I’d ever known. He promised me everything would be okay. He swore it to me, and though I was more afraid than I had ever been in my entire life, I believed him.” She shook her head. “But everything wasn’t okay. I had my baby a beautiful little boy with black hair, bright blue eyes, and a birthmark on his nose. I called it a fairy saddle. I think I had heard that in a movie once and thought it was cute.” Daphne took a deep breath before she continued. “He was the most perfect thing I’d ever seen in my life. Do you have kids, Rick?”
“I don’t,” I admitted.
“If you did, then you’d know,” Daphne said. “You’d understand what I mean when I say that looking at him was like being born all over again. I wasn’t just a person anymore. I was more than that. I had this purpose, and none of the rest of it mattered. For the rest of my life, I would be this important person. I would be his mother.” She ran a hand through her hair as tears fell down her cheeks. “Only, I wasn’t. Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Trapp came back in and told me there were complications. My son had been born too early after all, and his heart gave out suddenly.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, nodding at the clearly distraught woman.
“I was torn apart. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think,” she answered. “Dr. Trapp offered to take care of everything. He offered to bury my son for me. He even offered to keep all of it a secret so I could go back to my life. Once again, I thought he was the greatest man I’d ever known.”
“What happened next, Daphne?” I asked, sensing this story was about to take a darker turn.
“Nothing at all,” she said. “Nothing for years. I went back home. I went back to my life and pretended that everything was okay. I told my dad I’d made a mistake in leaving and, since he knew nothing about the baby, he was all too happy to take me back with open arms.” She shrugged. “I went to college. I got a job. I lived a full life. I tried to forget about that little casket I couldn’t bring myself to open and the empty spot that still existed in my heart.”
She closed her eyes, nearly shaking with hurt.
“And then I joined Facebook.”
“No good story has ever started like that,” I muttered.
“I found Dr. Trapp, and friended him,” she said. “I looked through his pictures and marveled at his family. Then, I saw his son. I saw that same black hair. I saw those same glowing blue eyes.” She inhale a sharp breath. “I told myself that I was being stupid. Even though his son was the same age as mine would have been, it couldn’t have been the same baby. Dr. Trapp was a good man. No, he was a great man. Besides, my son had a birthmark on his nose, and this boy didn’t.”
“So…” I started.
“So, I couldn’t stop myself from looking through the boy’s page,” she said, answering me. “I went back through his timeline, and saw him mention a surgery to remove a birthmark. I went back further and saw pictures of the birthmark. It was him. Dr. Trapp’s son was my son. He had stolen him from me!”
“My God,” I murmured. “Did you call the police?”
“To what end?” Daphne asked. “It was eighteen years ago. My son is grown. The damage is done. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t force him to come with me. He’s an adult now.”
“But you could open his eyes to the truth,” I said. “You could put the man who stole him in prison where he belongs.”
“And then what?” Daphne asked. “My son would hate me forever. I don’t want that. I don’t want to press charges.”
“This isn’t the kind of thing you have to press charges about,” I told her. “You aren’t the only victim here. The state would take this up.”
“That’s not what I want!” she yelled. “That’s not why I came here!”
“Daphne, I’m sorry. I think you should really-”
“I’ll lie,” Daphne said. “You get me on that stand, and I’ll tell the jury I told him to take my son. He’s a man with a sparkling reputation. I checked. They’ll believe it. They’d love to believe their doctor hero helped a struggling teen mom.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked. “He ruined your life.”
“He ruined part of my life,” Daphne corrected. “The only way he’ll ruin the rest is if he manages to turn my son against me. He can do it. I’ve watched them online. They’re close.” She sighed. “All I want is a relationship with my son. He doesn’t have to know who I am. He can think I’m an old friend of his father’s. He can think I’m an aunt once removed. I don’t give a damn. I just want to know him. That’s all.” She zeroed in on me. “And I want you to help me do it.”
“Me?” I asked. “What do you want me to do?”
“You’re a lawyer. I want you to negotiate,” she said. “I want you to go to Dr. Trapp and convince him that it’s in his best interest to do what I’m asking. I’ll drop it. I’ll leave it all alone. I swear. You just have to convince him to do this one little thing.”
“Daphne, I don’t think this is in your best interest,” I said softly.
“I’ve spent my entire life trying to outrun the ghost of a boy who isn’t even dead,” she said. “It’s exhausting, Rick. All I want to do is stop running. This is the only way I know to do that. Please, Rick. Please help me to stop running. I’m begging you.”
I looked at the woman, taking in all the pain, all the hurt, all the wasted years as though they were my own. I knew I was wrong. Even as I said it, I knew I should have turned her down. I couldn’t, though. I couldn’t look at a woman who needed help this much and not help her. So, I made a poor decision.
“Let me see what I can do,” I answered. Of course, I had no idea how much this would come to haunt all of us.
Chapter 8
My knee jerked as I sat in the waiting room, looking around at patients who were all anxious to get in to see the doctor. It occurred to me as I sat here that none of them knew just what kind of person they were putting themselves at the me
rcy of. I mean, while the online searching I did of Dr. Trapp didn’t turn up any allegations of illegal behavior aside from what Daphne had told me a few days ago, certainly stealing a woman’s baby and claiming he died was enough of a character Litmus test to know when a person was just no damn good.
Of course, I was making assumptions. A strange thought crossed my mind. What if I was being blind about all of this? What if my closeness to Justin was making me bias to believe what his sister told me? In truth, I had no proof of her allegations. What she insisted happened went down eighteen years ago in a different state and was likely buried as soon as it did. Finding a paper trail to prove what Daphne insisted would be difficult if not impossible. Still, the man’s reputation didn’t help her case. I read enough about Dr. Trapp to know he was a well-respected part of the community. He did charity work. He performed pro bono surgeries on the second Saturdays of every month. He was a walking saint, to hear the local media tell it. Bringing that particular saint down to earth wouldn’t be easy.
“Rick Archer,” a woman with short blonde hair and a big smile said as she walked into the lobby with a clipboard in her hands. “The doctor will see you now.”
I nodded and stood, stuffing my hands into my pockets and thanking the woman as she led me into an examination room.
“There’s a gown on the counter. Please change into it,” she chirped at me, her smile never faltering.
“That won’t be necessary,” I answered. “This isn’t that kind of visit.”