"Hey Sabre, Bob. Wait up." Thomas Gilley, the public defender on the Murdock case, called from within the crowd about ten feet behind them.
"Hi, Tom, how goes the war?" Sabre asked, as he caught up to them.
"I need to talk to you about the Murdock case. Do you have a minute?"
"Sure."
"You should hear this too, Bob. Don't you represent Jamie's father?"
"Yeah, for what it's worth. The guy's in some institution. I've tried to talk to him, but he's a few French fries short of a Happy Meal," Bob said. "Why, what's up?"
"I had a long talk with Gaylord, my client. He seems like a pretty nice guy. I don't have the police report back yet, but it appears his girlfriend, Peggy, has drug history. He's very worried about his baby she's carrying. His version of the incident last week differed from hers. When he came home, he could tell she'd been using and a fight ensued, an argument actually. When he confronted her, she flipped out. She started screaming at the top of her lungs and swinging at him. She picked up a soup ladle from the kitchen and started hitting him with it. When he tried to calm her down and restrain her, she pulled away and fell and hit her head on the coffee table."
"His story fits with what Alexis told the police," Sabre said, "but why didn't he just tell the police Peggy was using? Why did he let them arrest him?"
"Because he didn't want Peggy taken into custody. She's so close to having the baby, he feared she might give birth in county jail. He didn't want his child born in jail. Besides, the cops weren't exactly open to any scenario except domestic violence. They didn't give any credence to what Alexis told them. You know as well as I do men are always the ones arrested when there is a hint of domestic violence."
"Here, look at this." Tom handed her an album covered with bright, Barbie-pink fabric. The cover contained the words "Alexis Murdock" in big block letters. Underneath her name in slightly smaller letters, it said "My Pride and Joy."
"I thought you might find it interesting. My client was reluctant to give it up, even for a second, until I impressed upon him the importance of your viewing it. Why don't you hold onto it this morning so you can look it over. I'll get it back from you before we break for lunch. Just be very careful with it; I had to promise him my firstborn if I didn't return it in perfect condition."
"I'll be careful. I'm going to be in pokey Judge Kaylor's courtroom. As slow as she is, I'll have plenty of time to review it between hearings." She took the album and walked to Department One.
Sabre found a seat in the back corner of the courtroom where she wouldn't be interrupted while she waited for her case to be called. She looked at the bright pink cover, untied the ribbon, and opened it. On the first page she saw a sonogram and the words, "Alexis' first photo." It had her footprints, her first artwork, and a photo of her every year on her birthday. It contained awards ranging from "The Sandbox Award" through "Best Citizen." The album held spelling-bee conquests, ribbons from sporting events, and poems Alexis had written. It captured Alexis' life from birth to present.
As Sabre studied the album, Bob walked in and took a seat next to her. She handed it to him. "Have a look at this. A lot of effort and love went into this album. Murdock obviously cares a great deal about his little girl, his 'pride and joy.'"
"Hmm . . . . He seems genuinely concerned about his unborn child as well. If what he said about the fight is true, he has good reason for concern. Unfortunately, in this state, there isn't anything a father can really do until his baby is born. He certainly has no means to keep the mother from using if she decides to. He can't lock her up or place any kind of physical restraints on her to protect his child."
"I guess his frustration is understandable . . . if it's true."
CHAPTER 6
The sun had set and twilight faded enough to make the lights inside Sabre's office visible. After her experience on Saturday night, she felt relieved to have company. She entered through the back door, dropped her files on her desk, and walked to the front of the building to say hi to Elaine, the receptionist.
Sabre's office, furthest from the front entrance and the least desirable of the three, seemed perfect to her. Jack Snecker occupied the front office. He had first pick since he discovered the building, leased it for himself, and then sublet the office space to other attorneys. The building had once been a beautiful, old Victorian home. Fortunately, someone had the foresight to convert it to office space rather than tear it down. Jack's office, the largest, had once been the living room. It had a beautiful bay window across the front providing him a view of the street from his huge, antique mahogany desk and chairs. In front of the fireplace, a little settee and a couple of chairs created a cozy sitting area for guests.
"Hi Elaine," Sabre greeted the receptionist. "How has your day been going?"
"Not bad, actually," she responded with her dry sense of humor. "The copy machine broke down again, I spilled coffee on my desk and made a big mess, I accidentally hung up on Jack's wife when she called, but the good news is we've only had eight calls today from your favorite Looney tune, Crazy Carla. I don't know how you can deal with that woman. She ranted and raved about some nonsense. I couldn't make any sense of it."
"She has problems we can't even imagine, Elaine." Sabre sighed. "I'll call her in a minute and calm her down. Did you hear anything from the Atlanta Police Department?"
"Oh yeah, here's the fax and your mail." Elaine handed her the police report on Peggy Smith and the stack of mail she had opened for her. "One of the pages is not legible, though. I called and left a message, but it's late in Atlanta so you'll probably have to wait until tomorrow. I didn't speak to Detective Carriage. I left a message with some night clerk."
"Thanks, Elaine." Sabre took the report, along with the twenty-two pink slips containing phone messages, and went to her office. She shuffled through the pink slips as she walked down the hallway, pulling out the ones from Carla. When she returned to her desk, she called Carla. This task always took some time, but Sabre wanted it out of the way. It was a daily routine, not one she particularly enjoyed, but it had to be done even if every call was the same. Sabre would call; Carla would scream for a little while making no sense. After she rambled for five minutes or so, Carla would take a breath and Sabre would start talking to her about butterflies and green pastures. It always soothed her. Sabre couldn't remember when she had discovered how to do it, and although uncertain if it was the words or the way she had learned to deliver them, it calmed Carla down.
Today's call was no different. Sabre called her, and while Carla yelled, Sabre turned the volume down on her headset and started thumbing through her mail. Sabre hated that some tree had to die for all the junk mail. She separated the mail into stacks of bills, checks, correspondence needing to be filed, personal items, and the junk. Even though Elaine opened all the mail, Sabre still wanted to view everything coming in so she could decide what to keep and what to throw away.
She tossed the junk mail into the recycle trash bin, put the bills in a basket on her credenza, clipped together the checks and correspondence and placed them in a box for Elaine, and set her personal items in another basket on the corner of her desk to take home and look through later.
She heard Carla take a breath. Sabre turned up her volume and started to speak. She had to be quick or she would miss her opening. "Butterflies, green pastures, and butterflies," she began. "Carla, imagine yourself walking through the field and a beautiful purple and blue butterfly lights on your arm. You look around and you see little dots of color–pink, blue, red, and yellow–the tall, green grass moving ever so slightly in the light breeze, and a rainbow of multi-colored butterflies dancing across the pale blue sky. There's no one else in your world, just you and your butterflies wandering through your green pasture . . . ." Sabre went on until she heard Carla breathing comfortably and then she said, as she always did, "Don't worry, Carla. I'll take care of everything."
She hung up the phone and turned to the police report, anxious to see what
it said. She read through the report twice, first to see if it contained anything significantly affecting the case, the second time, more slowly, looking for details she might have missed the first time. After the second reading, she called Marla.
"Marla, it's Sabre, your favorite attorney."
"True, but that's not saying a whole lot," she responded. "Whatcha got?"
"Did you get the report from Atlanta on the Murdock case?"
"It's somewhere on my desk here, but I haven't had a chance to read it yet. Anything exciting in it?"
"Well, Peggy does have a drug history. It looks like she's had a problem for some time. She's been arrested a couple of times for possession, once for pot and most recently for meth. . . . .a little over a year ago, about the same time she hooked up with Murdock. Do you happen to know how they met?"
"No, but I'll see what I can find out."
"By the way, I have an illegible page – page eight. It looks like it might be Peggy's family history sheet. Will you look at yours and see if you can read it?"
"Sure. I know it's here somewhere." Marla said. "Is there any bad news in there on Murdock?"
"No. He has no convictions, not even a traffic violation. He comes from a well-respected family in the area. The Murdocks own a good portion of the city and have been in local politics for generations. Gaylord Murdock has lived there most of his life. He left twice, once to go to college – to Harvard, no less – but returned right after graduation. It appears he may have left about five or six years ago and returned after about a year. I don't know for certain exactly when he left the second time."
"Any idea where he went?"
"No, not yet. I'll see what I can find, though, and maybe you could do the same. It's probably nothing, but he's so squeaky clean in Atlanta, I wonder if his political connections have something to do with it, or if he really is the 'good guy' he portrays. I've become so skeptical; I don't believe anything I read anymore and only half of what I see."
"I know the feeling, but you have good instincts, Sabre. I know you'll dig until you find what you're looking for. Just keep me informed if you can." Sabre could hear Marla shuffling through the papers on her desk. "Oh, here's the report. Let's see . . . page eight. No, sorry; I can't read mine either."
"By the way, how are Alexis and Jamie doing? Have you seen them recently?"
"Yeah, I went by this morning. They seem okay, but Alexis won't let Jamie out of her sight. She nearly panics when they're separated. She can't focus until she can see he's okay. I've seen siblings attached before, but this goes beyond that. You can see the fear in Alexis' eyes when she doesn't have a visual on him."
"You have to wonder what she's seen or heard that has made her so 'parentified.'" Sabre paused. "I think I'll go by and see her when I leave here. Maybe I'll take them for a bite to eat. Do you think I can get a car seat at Jordan? I don't expect I'll be able to take Alexis without Jamie."
"That's a given. I'll call over there and make sure they have one for you."
Sabre hung up the phone and read through the police report again. She jotted down a few questions she needed answers to.
Where did Gaylord Murdock go when he left Atlanta?
Does he have a record anywhere else?
How did he meet Peggy Smith?
Why does Alexis seem so protective of Jamie?
How did Peggy get hurt the night of the arrest?
Is she using drugs now while she's pregnant?
Finally, the ultimate question:
Is it safe to send the children home with Murdock?
She put down her note pad and dialed the Atlanta Police Department, "Detective Carriage, please."
"I'm sorry ma'am, but he's gone for the day. May I take your name and number and have him return the call tomorrow?" the person at the other end of the line responded in her sweet, southern accent.
Sabre gave the woman the information she requested along with her home and cell phone numbers. "If he calls in, please ask him to contact me. Oh, and please tell him not to worry about waking me up. I don't sleep much anyway."
Sabre took out her calendar and gathered together the files she needed for court the next day. As she started to go through the first case, Elaine walked into the office with her purse and jacket in her hand. "I'm calling it a day, Sabre. Jack and David have already gone. As usual, you are the last to leave."
"Goodnight, Elaine. See you tomorrow." Sabre heard the back door close and lock as Elaine left for the day. She buried herself back in the case.
She wrote a few notes on a form she'd designed for her hearings. She had a different color for each type of hearing so she could find things at a glance. It became especially helpful in the middle of a hearing. Everyone at court ragged on Sabre about her anal organizational skills, but whenever someone needed information on a case, they checked with her first.
She clipped the pink form on the right side of the Sanders file, closed it up, and started a separate stack of "ready files." She picked up the next case; pulled a green form for the disposition hearing and filled in the date, case name, and department number; and proceeded to read through the file to see what she needed to cover in court. She started to write something in the "requests" section of her form when . . . THUD. Something hit the wall. She muffled a scream. She stood and pulled the curtain back a bit. Total blackness. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, ready to push "Send" if needed. Her heart pounded as she tiptoed to the back door. She lifted one slat in the blind very carefully and peered out into the parking area. The dim porch light provided little help. Sabre couldn't see anything and detected no movement. She stood still, watching for a few minutes. She took a deep breath, tried to dismiss it, and went back to her desk to finish preparing her cases for court.
Sabre reached for a pencil, but her trembling hand dropped it. She let it lay there and gathered up her files to leave. She peeked out the window again before she slowly opened the back door and looked around. When she decided everything was okay, Sabre stepped out, locked the back door behind her, and jumped in her car to leave. Once on the road, she began to breathe easier thinking how silly she had acted.
Sabre called Jordan Receiving Home to remind them she was taking Alexis and Jamie on a little excursion. Though her office was located only a few blocks away, by the time she parked and entered the building, the children were ready to go.
"Hi, Alexis, remember me?" she asked the little girl standing there in a pretty yellow dress.
"Yeah, you're the lawyer and your name is Sabre. Are we really going to McDonald's?"
"Yes, we are. Do you like McDonald's?"
"I love their French fries. Can we get a kid's meal? Jamie likes to go there, too. He can have my toy if he wants." She turned to Jamie, "Come on, Jamie. Let's go."
"Okay, Alexis, we're ready. You bring Jamie and I'll get the car seat for him." Sabre saw Alexis gently take the hand of her little "brother." Sabre buckled Jamie in the back seat and Alexis watched as if to make sure it was done correctly. She sat down in the front seat, listening and responding whenever Jamie spoke.
"I'll show you where my office is," Sabre said. "We drive past it on the way." They drove three blocks, made a right turn, and half way up the block Sabre said, "There it is, on your right, the one with the bright lights in the front."
"You have a pretty office," Alexis said.
"Thank you."
They continued their conversation at McDonald's, Sabre being careful not to interrogate her. "Tell me about school in Atlanta. What did you like best about it?"
"My friend, Mattie," Alexis said. "She's my best friend in the whole world. We played with our Barbie dolls. She has more than I do, and she has lots of doll clothes, too. But mostly, we played school and I was the teacher. We didn't play with the other kids because they would tease Mattie and call her names because she couldn't hear and she talked kinda funny. I wonder who she plays with now. I sure miss her." Alexis always spoke fast, like she needed to make sure she could
get it all in.
"Maybe you could write her a letter. Do you know her address?"
"Yeah, I'll write her a letter. She'd like that."
Sabre picked up her briefcase and took some paper, an envelope, and a stamp and handed them to Alexis. "Here's everything you need." Sabre pointed to the upper left corner and said, "You put your name here above mine and Mattie will know who the letter came from. If she writes you back, I'll bring the letter to you. Here's where Mattie's name and address go." Sabre wrote Mattie's first name on the envelope for her so she would know where to write it. "What's her last name?"
"Sturkey," Alexis said with a smile. "It's turkey with an 'S' in front. It's a funny name, but she can't help it. The other kids would gobble around her. She couldn't hear them, but she could see and she knew they were making fun of her. When I grow up, I want to take care of kids who can't hear, like Mattie. Maybe I can teach them things. I can sign, you know. Mattie taught me." Alexis spelled out her name in sign language. "A-l-e-x-i-s. That's my name. I can say other things too, like 'Good morning,' 'I love you,' and lots of other stuff. Mattie taught me something new every day."
"How long have you known Mattie?"
"Since we came back to Atlanta from . . .." Alexis caught herself and didn't finish her sentence. "She was in my class. I was new and she was real nice to me. We sat next to each other."
"It sounds like Mattie is a great friend. No wonder you miss her."
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