by MJ Rodgers
Marc retook his seat beside her as she watched the judge’s face. The man’s eyes vacillated between the items in his hands—one, the photograph, the others, the sworn statements by the pediatrician and the psychologist. Finally, he looked up, right at Remy.
“Dr. Westbrook, do you swear before this court that you will not place your son anywhere near this animal or any other until such time as this court has an opportunity to fully examine the evidence surrounding these charges and rule on them?”
Remy rose on shaking legs. “Yes, Your Honor, I do.”
“Your Honor, I beseech you,” Eleanor Geyser said as she shot to her feet. “A mother like this who would let her child play with a wild chimpanzee could be exposing him to many other dangers. You can’t take a chance—”
“Do you have any proof that Dr. Westbrook has exposed her son to any other alleged dangers, Ms. Geyser?” the judge asked.
“Well, no, but—”
“Dr. Westbrook has removed herself and her son from contact with the chimpanzee in question, despite obvious and considerable cost to her career. Unless you have specific proof of her placing this child in danger in some other way, I see no reason for him to be removed from her care. Nicholas Westbrook will remain in the custody of his mother until final disposition of this matter in six weeks’ time. That is my ruling. Court is adjourned.”
Remy’s knees were still shaking as she stepped out of the courtroom. She felt as though she had aged five years in the last five minutes.
She made for the closest wooden bench and collapsed onto its seat. She rested the back of her head against the wall and closed her eyes, trying to extinguish the lingering shadows of the fear that had gripped her heart ever since that court summons was delivered the day before.
She felt Marc come to sit beside her, his warmth and strength unmistakable and very comforting. He had promised her the Demerchants would not get her son. He had kept that promise. She took a deep breath and let it out, then opened her eyes and let them rest on his face.
“Thank you, Marc.”
Marc had been thanked many times before by clients, but never before had he seen such eloquent gratitude in a pair of eyes. A strong, unexpected wave of warmth swept through him. His hand closed over Remy’s.
“I’m sorry you had to resign your position at the university and lose your grant.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t fool me, Remy. I know how important they were to you. You struggled hard to earn the scholarship that took you through college. And after you got your advanced degrees, you kept right on working hard to get that grant so you and your sister could pursue your symbiotic research interests.”
“Still, Nicholas is all that matters now.”
She meant it, too. Marc could see that so clearly in her eyes. He turned as the courtroom doors opened and Colin and Heddy Demerchant came out with Eleanor Geyser.
The couple glowered at Remy and Marc as they passed quickly by. But Geyser wasn’t in such a hurry. She stopped in front of them and smiled. Marc stood, intentionally, to tower over her.
The tiny woman appeared more amused than intimidated by their disparate height. “My sources didn’t tell me you knew anything about family law, Truesdale. Congratulations on your win in there today. But don’t expect a repeat. I’ll be ready for you next time. See you in six weeks,” she called pleasantly as she walked away.
“I could really learn to hate that woman,” Remy said as she watched the attorney disappear down the hall.
Marc retook his seat beside her. “Don’t worry. I’ve met her match in family law and she’s on our side.”
“What was in that photograph Geyser showed the judge?”
Marc relaxed back against the wall behind the bench and waited for some people to pass before answering. “Remember when I came to see you that day in the yard behind the back of the lab?”
“Yes.”
“You were trying to teach Nicholas and the chimp the sign for flower while you were sitting on the grass around the stone table. The chimp grabbed the purple flower in the center and ate it. Nicholas rolled back on the grass, laughing, and the chimp jumped up and down screeching.”
“I remember, but I don’t see the connection.”
“That picture Geyser showed to the judge was a telephoto shot of that scene.”
“But what harm could there be in that?”
“The depth of field on a shot taken with a telephoto lens is often misleading. This one certainly was. It looked as though the chimp were jumping on top of Nicholas with its teeth barred. And because the chimp’s teeth were showing, it also gave the impression that Nicholas was howling in pain, not laughter.”
“But that impression is totally false.”
“Yes, but effective.”
“Who could have taken... Neville Smith!” Remy said, answering her own question.
“Yes. The Demerchants obviously paid him to take pictures of you and Nicholas as well as to snoop. He got lucky with that picture.”
“If you realized all this when you saw the picture, why didn’t you just explain it to the judge?”
“Because I couldn’t prove that point today. In order to make the point properly, I need Neville Smith on the stand, admitting where he was and what type and size of camera lens he used. The best I could do today was assure the judge that it didn’t matter whether the picture was true or false, because Nicholas was no longer near the chimp. Which reminds me, where is Nicholas?”
“Phil stayed home today so she could be with him. If I had lost custody of him, Phil was ready to fly Nicholas out of the country to somewhere safe.”
“You’re kidding.”
She looked at him squarely in answer.
Marc whistled softly. “No, you’re not kidding. Remy, I gave you my word. Didn’t you believe me?”
Remy sat up straighter. “He’s my son. It’s my responsibility to protect him.”
Marc nodded. “And you’re afraid to let yourself rely on anyone else to come through for you.”
“I relied on Phil.”
“Maybe I should have rephrased that. You’re afraid to let yourself rely on a man to come through for you. After Phil’s father died, her mother married the man who was to become your father, and he left all three of you when you were ten. That must have been very hard on you.”
She shrugged and breathed out a long, heavy exhale. “The hardest part was realizing how weak and demoralized it left my mother—and how quickly she faded away. She was such a sweet, open, trusting person, Marc. She couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. She never accepted that the fault lay in the broken promises of the man she married.”
“And then when you were only eighteen, that college punk, Kevin, left you the second he found out you were pregnant. Maybe if I were you, I’d be a quart low when it comes to relying on the male sex.”
Her eyes turned away. Her voice was scrupulously mellow. “I see A.J. left no stone unturned.”
“Actually, there was one. She couldn’t find any hospital record of what happened to your first baby. She figured you must have lost it. Did you?”
Marc watched Remy take in a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. Her voice was scarcely audible. “Yes.”
Marc put his hand under Remy’s chin and turned her face toward him. He was stunned at what he saw.
“Remy, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that talking about these things would still bother you.”
She didn’t respond right away to his apology. The pain swam through the liquid cinnamon of her eyes. Despite the smooth, mellow tone of her voice, Marc knew her next words were spoken to try to convince herself as much as to convince him.
“It was over a long time ago. It cannot hurt me. Nothing and no one can hurt me unless I allow it.”
Marc had felt so clever a moment before, certain he had figured out why she did not seek a normal relationship with a man. But he didn’t feel so clever now. He felt clumsy. Beca
use, despite all her brave words, her eyes told him that he had hurt her.
“Excuse me, am I interrupting?”
Marc turned to see A.J. standing next to the bench. He had no idea how she had approached without his seeing her, but he wasn’t surprised. That seemed to be one of A.J.’s special talents.
He introduced A.J. to Remy, then offered A.J. some room on the bench. She shook her head and remained standing. She was a tall woman with long raven hair, eyes as still as a frozen blue lake, and a dancer’s body that always seemed to be eager for the next step. Marc never felt quite relaxed in her company, maybe because she was never quite relaxed.
“What brings you here?” he asked.
“I’m testifying in Adam’s case on the floor above in a few minutes. Since I knew you’d be here, I thought I’d swing by and bring you up-to-date on that construction crane business. It’s not shaping up as I expected at all.”
“What’s causing you concern, A.J.?”
“The construction company foreman agrees that the roofless state of the pedestrian tunnel makes it a very hazardous place to be when metal beams are swinging overhead.”
“Good,” Marc said. “If he’s going to be reasonable and both admit and correct his error, then we can make this all go away with a minimal amount of expended time and money on both sides.”
“I’m afraid it’s not going to be that simple,” A.J. said. “It’s because he knew of the danger that he claims he made certain the tunnel was boarded up on both ends for the last two weeks with a sign clearly posted that it was closed.”
“He’s wrong,” Remy said. “Yes, I saw boards across one entrance and the no-entry sign when I was on my way to the courthouse. That’s why I detoured across the street to get by the construction. But I saw no boards blocking the other end of that pedestrian tunnel when I was on my way back to my car. And I distinctly remember seeing a sign that read Pedestrian Tunnel Open near its entrance.”
“Remy’s right, A.J.,” Marc said. “I followed her into that pedestrian tunnel just seconds later and there certainly was no barrier.”
“Did you see the Open sign?”
“No, but I was focused on...other things.”
“Even if we discount the fact of the sign, it’s obvious neither of you would have torn off a couple of restraining boards hammered across the entrance. Yet someone did, and then rehammered them back into place.”
“Rehammered them back into place?” Marc repeated. “When?”
“I would estimate within minutes of when Dr. Westbrook was struck. My people have talked to dozens of pedestrians who distinctly remember seeing those restraining boards over that end of the pedestrian tunnel when they came to work that morning. And at least another half dozen remember seeing them in place when they went to lunch less than fifteen minutes after Dr. Westbrook was struck.”
Marc nodded as though in comprehension. “That means one of those construction people must have seen Remy being struck and quickly rehammered the boards back into place after I carried her out of the tunnel. It might have even been the person responsible for hitting her with that metal beam.”
“Which brings up another matter,” A.J. said. “According to the construction company’s records, the guy who runs the crane had signed out for lunch twenty minutes earlier that day, so he claims he wasn’t even operating the crane at the time Remy was struck.”
“He must be lying,” Marc said.
“If he is, he’s got his mother supporting his lie. He left early so he could take her to the doctor. She swears he was already at her place at the time the beam hit Dr. Westbrook.”
“If he’s telling the truth,” Marc said, “then it just means another worker must have been operating that crane.”
“The construction company says that’s not possible. They say they employ only union members, and they only have one person who is qualified to run a crane. That was the man who had already gone to lunch. They claim no one else would have dared touch the equipment.”
“Well, Remy didn’t hit herself with that swinging metal beam. I witnessed the accident. These fools are just trying to shirk their responsibility.”
“That would be the most reasonable explanation,” A.J. said.
Marc heard the hesitancy in her voice. “What’s bothering you, A.J.?”
“Why would one of them have taken down the barrier and sign in the first place? It had been up the entire previous week. They all knew it had to be up at least another week. They had their own separate entrance to the construction site. It’s not as though there was any reason for them to have taken the barrier down. I can’t figure it.”
“It might have been some kids fooling around who took down the barrier and switched the signs,” Marc offered. “When the construction crew witnessed Remy’s accident and realized what the kids had done, they might have put the barrier and sign back into place, fearful of incurring liability for her injuries.”
“That’s what the police and insurance investigators thought, too.”
“But not you?”
“It’s possible, Marc. But why not just admit the truth? It would have cost them a lot less than what you’ll get from them now. I’m not easy with the explanation.”
“What do you think happened, then?”
“I don’t know, Marc. I just have an uneasy feeling about this. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
Marc was beginning to get an uneasy feeling about it, too.
* * *
REMY DIDN’T KNOW WHY she came awake suddenly. The fragments of some innocuous dream were already fading, leaving no alarm. But the very fact that she had awakened did concern her. She glanced at the illuminated clock on the nightstand. One-fifty.
She quickly slipped out of bed and went over to check on Nicholas in his crib. The small night-light in the corner of the condo bedroom was just strong enough to catch in his cognac curls. His breathing was deep and even. He was hugging a soft black-and-white cow under his little arm, no doubt taking it with him to play in his dreams.
Remy smiled as she pulled the blanket up and over his exposed shoulder and tucked it around him.
She still didn’t know what had awakened her, but she suspected it was probably the unfamiliar bed or the unfamiliar noises from the downtown Seattle nightlife.
A siren wailed loudly ten stories below. Too loudly. Remy walked over to the closed bedroom window and looked down at the flashing lights of an ambulance. The echo of its wail wasn’t coming through the closed window. It was coming from somewhere else in the condo.
Remy stepped out of the bedroom into the dark hallway and made her way toward the living room. The closer she got, the louder the street noise became. She felt the cold draft of air even before she saw the drapes blowing into the room.
So that’s why the street noises sounded so loud. The sliding glass door to the balcony was open. She could have sworn she had closed it before going to bed.
She started toward the balcony to correct her oversight, when suddenly she heard another noise that stopped her dead in her tracks. She was certain that this noise hadn’t come through the open window. This one had come from somewhere inside the room. Her heart began to pound.
Remy remained absolutely still, straining to hear over the beating of the blood in her ears. There it was again. Beside her? Behind her?
Behind her!
Before Remy could react, a strong arm suddenly snaked around her stomach, pinning her arms to her sides; a gloved hand slammed over her nose and mouth.
Remy wiggled and kicked as hard as she could. Her bare heel connected with a shinbone that felt like steel. Her attacker didn’t even flinch. Her heel reverberated with pain. The arm around her middle shifted upward and tightened.
She couldn’t breathe. The cruel hand around her mouth and nose, and the arm squeezing the breath out of her diaphragm, were an effective and deadly combination.
Her nose and throat burned. Her lungs ached. Her head pounded. The room began to
blur. She closed her eyes, stopped struggling and let her head fall back. She willed her muscles to go slack, feigning unconsciousness before it really was upon her.
A moment—a horribly long moment—passed before her attacker’s arm shifted back to her waist. The gloved hand slipped off her face and grabbed her shoulders, clumsily trying to drag her deadweight.
Cool, blessed air began to flow back into Remy’s nose and open mouth. She sucked it in as quietly as her hungry lungs would let her. It took all her control to remain limp. Her legs scraped against the carpet as her attacker continued to pull her across it. Then she felt cold tile and a cold breeze slapping against her face.
She opened her eyes, careful not to move her head, careful to keep her muscles slack.
In her frantic efforts to outfox her attacker, she hadn’t had time to think about what the person intended to do with her. Now she knew. She’d been dragged onto the tile balcony—right to the edge. She was being lifted up. Her attacker was going to throw her over the railing!
Remy’s muscles came instantly to life. She twisted in her attacker’s hold and stared into a black ski mask. She kicked furiously at the same time she slammed her fists against the side of her attacker’s head and screamed with every ounce of air she had in her.
The hold on her slackened. She was wiggling free!
She never saw the blow coming. She never even felt it. All she saw were sudden, brilliant, pulsing stars shooting behind her eyes and lighting up her skull. And then she was falling into blackness, an endless blackness that went on and on, echoing with her screams.
Chapter Eight
Marc pushed open the doors to the hospital’s emergency entrance and ran right into A.J.
“How is she?”
“They’re working on her now.”
“I’ve got to see—”
A.J. put up her hand to halt him from charging through the doors marked Authorized Personnel Only.
“Marc, they’ll let us know.”
Marc took a couple of deep breaths, telling himself she would make it. She had to make it. And then telling himself that if he was going to remain sane, he had to occupy his mind elsewhere until she made it.