Descending (The Rising Series)

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Descending (The Rising Series) Page 3

by Kelly, Holly


  “Triton’s protective of his mermaid, isn’t he?” Pallas asked.

  “No more than I am,” Xanthus answered. “I just don’t have sharks at my beck and call.”

  “No, you have something much more dangerous,” Kyros said.

  Xanthus turned to him. “What?”

  Kyros smiled. “Us.”

  Honolulu, Hawaii ~ Federal Courthouse

  Honolulu, Hawaii ~ Federal Courthouse

  Sweat trickled down Gretchen’s back as she cradled a sleeping child in her arms. Her fingertips brushed over the little blonde curls. Jami Tollman was a beautiful child with a precarious future. And right now, her future was balancing on the razor’s edge of the American justice system. But Ms. Gardner was on the job. As her intern, Gretchen had heard her boss rehearse again and again. The argument was fierce and compelling. There was no way she could lose. However, stranger things had happened… but not this time. The fates wouldn’t be so cruel to this little girl.

  Gretchen looked up at the clock mounted on the cinderblock wall next to the security station. They’d been there for only half an hour. It’d probably be another thirty minutes—unless the judge ruled quickly. She caught a strong whiff of cigarette smoke as a boney woman with greasy hair stepped up to the security stop. The burly guard gave her little notice, his eyes on a man behind her dressed in shackles and escorted by two police officers.

  Gretchen held little Jami tight. This was no place for a five-year-old girl. If life were fair, she’d just be getting home from kindergarten, returning to a loving mother. She would bake her cookies and ask how school went as she hugged her and pressed a kiss to her soft cheek. When her father came home, she’d run up, he’d lift her up above his head, twirl her around, and drop her in his arms, telling her what an amazing child she was.

  But life was rarely fair.

  The doors to the courtroom opened and people began to push through, like cattle escaping the coral. Gretchen found the person she was looking for. She sucked in a breath and held it as her heart froze. Ms. Gardner looked downcast. When she saw Gretchen watching her, she shook her head, confirming it didn’t go well.

  Gretchen had to force herself not to take the child in her arms and bolt out the door. That likely wouldn’t go over well. Kidnapping was a serious crime. Well, beating a child almost to death was worse—or so she thought.

  Ms. Gardner didn’t say a word to Gretchen. What was there to say, other than, ‘we lost’? Instead, she approached little Jami.

  “Jami, sweetie.” She sleepily opened her eyes.

  “Can I go home now, Ms. Gardner?” she asked, her pudgy hands rubbing tired eyes. Gretchen knew she wasn’t talking about her father’s home. She wanted to return to the nice family that took care of her and treated her like a princess—the one hoping to adopt her.

  “Jami, the court’s decided your daddy feels terrible about what he did, and they think you’d be better off living with him.”

  Jami didn’t seem to grasp what was said. She sat in silent stillness.

  “Come on, sweetie,” Ms. Gardner said. “Your daddy’s waiting for you.”

  Jami’s head bobbed in a nod as she slipped off Gretchen’s lap. She stood there, not moving for several moments. Then, like a flash, she was running toward the front door. After a short, stunned second, Ms. Gardner and Kyle, her assistant, went running after her.

  Gretchen caught herself before shouting, ‘Run Jami, run!’ She might not have said it, but she was definitely thinking it—praying she could getaway. But where would a five-year-old girl escape to?

  It was only seconds later when they returned—Kyle carrying the screaming, flailing child in his arms. “You can’t make me go back! I don’t want to live with my daddy. I want Mommy Jill. Let go of me!”

  “Ms. Winters.” Gretchen’s head snapped up at the sharp tone of Ms. Gardner’s voice. “What were you doing? Why did you just stand there like an idiot when Jami ran? You didn’t even attempt to catch her. You were the closest one to her.”

  “I… I’m sorry. But this is wrong. How can we send her back to that monster?” Gretchen stammered. She clenched her hands to keep them from shaking—or wringing someone’s neck.

  “What do you suppose we do—short of letting a five-year-old child run loose in Honolulu?” Ms. Gardner asked.

  “I don’t know. We just can’t let her go back to him.”

  “Listen, Gretchen, I understand how upset you are. I’m feeling quite angry at the justice system myself. But we have no choice. The judge has made his decision, and we have to respect that. Whatever happens is on his conscience now. I’ve done all I can.”

  “Whatever happens, Jami will have to live with it—if she survives,” Gretchen answered.

  “Get your filthy hands off my daughter.” Gretchen looked back to Kyle. Jami’s father was yelling as he wrestled his kicking, screaming daughter from the assistant’s grip. Mr. Tollman yanked Jami free and pulled her to his chest. She seemed to give up the fight as she held still.

  “Don’t worry, baby,” he said. “Daddy won’t ever let you go again.”

  Gretchen strode forward, not stopping until her nose was just inches from Mr. Tollman’s. He jerked back, surprised at her for a moment, before he sneered. Anger burned Gretchen so hot that she felt as if she might spontaneously combust. “Mr. Tollman,” she whispered, “you may have won this, but if you hurt your daughter again, you will regret it. You might as well take a gun and put a bullet in your head.”

  “Gretchen!” Mrs. Gardner clamped down on her arm and pulled her back. “What in the world are you doing?”

  Mr. Tollman stumbled back into the wall—his daughter hanging loosely in his arms, his eyes locked on Gretchen’s.

  “Nothing,” Gretchen answered. “I’m not doing a thing.”

  Gretchen turned away and strode purposely toward the exit.

  Gretchen crushed the corner of the red, tasseled throw pillow in her fist. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking actually. Someday, I hope to be able to practice law. I can’t be threatening people. I especially can’t be telling them they should put a bullet in their head.”

  Dr. Yauney’s demeanor remained calm, as always. Gretchen had never seen him surprised, upset, or unhinged. The seasoned therapist was as steady as a rock. “Yes, that may have been a bit over the top. What was going through your mind at the time?”

  Gretchen swallowed the lump in her throat. “I kept seeing pictures of the girl’s battered, little body. They played through my mind, over and over again. He did that. He hurt her. He could have killed her, and he the one person in the world who should have protected her. How can a person do that to a child? How can they do that to their own daughter?”

  “Are we still talking about your client’s father, or are we talking about your birth mother?” Dr. Yauney asked.

  Gretchen wanted to scowl at him, wanted to be angry. But she couldn’t. She didn’t have the energy. Her face crumpled. “I don’t think I’m going into the right profession. I can’t be objective. I have too much emotion tied up into dealing with victims—especially children.”

  “What would it take to change your emphasis?” Dr. Yauney glanced down at his notebook.

  “I’m pretty far into my internship,” Gretchen said. “Still, it might be best to change it now. It’ll only be harder when I’m already a practicing attorney.”

  “Gretchen, I’m going to tell you something I think you need to hear.” He put his papers down, linked his fingers together, and peered at her over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t think you should make this decision at right now. There is obviously something upsetting you.”

  “Well, yeah. I threatened a man in a court building. I have been off my game lately.” She gave a weak smile.

  “I think you were struggling before the courthouse incident. Why did you decide a month ago to resume meeting with me? You seemed to have moved beyond the issues of your past. You’d been so happy, so care
free. But the woman I see before me is troubled and unsure. I would just like you to tell me what happened to change things.”

  “Nothing happened. I have a boyfriend who loves me, I have a wonderful internship with one of the best attorneys in Honolulu, and I have the money to pay all my bills with enough left over to have fun on the weekends. My life is great.”

  “That sounds wonderful, but I’m sure the internship comes with its own stress.”

  Gretchen hugged the pillow to her chest. “It can be stressful.” She sighed. “I just wish Hal would listen to me.”

  “Is this the boyfriend you are so happy with?”

  “I am happy. At least, I used to be. Things were better when Sara was here.”

  “Your best friend.” Dr. Vincent spoke it as a statement.

  “Yes. We were as close as any two sisters. I could tell her almost anything.”

  “I think it odd you two only met a year ago, yet you both act as if you’d been friends for years.”

  Gretchen shrugged. “We just connected. I can’t explain it.”

  “How long ago did she move away?”

  “It’s been a month.”

  Dr. Vincent’s brows crinkled. Wow, a reaction.

  Gretchen’s eyes widened. “You think I’m back in therapy because my best friend got married and moved to the other side of the world?”

  “Are you?”

  “Now that would be ridiculous. I’m a grown woman. Why should the fact my best friend left…” Gretchen couldn’t continue. A lump got stuck in her throat, and she clutched the pillow in a vice grip. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

  “What are you afraid of?” Dr. Vincent’s eyes warmed with concern.

  “I’m afraid it’s all going to come crashing down. The world I built, I mean. The relationships I’ve made. I love my life, but always in the back of my mind, I know it could end. I’ve witnessed the other side—the evil, cold, and dark side. It gives me nightmares even now.”

  “It might help if you’d talk about it.”

  “I’ve tried.”

  “Yes, I know. Your previous therapist was wrong to dismiss your early memories. Whether or not they happened, they were real to you.”

  “He thought I should be committed.”

  “He was wrong. You are a smart, capable woman. Smart enough to take another look at those memories and begin to process and understand them.”

  “I may be smart enough, but I just don’t see the point in dredging up the past. I have such a bright future. Shouldn’t I be focused on that?”

  “Absolutely. But should you ever decide to delve into the past, I’m a good listener.”

  Gretchen smiled. “Yes, you are.”

  Dr. Yauney looked up at the clock. “Before we end here, I want to have you do something for me. During the next week, I want you to brainstorm reasons you feel out of control. You might want to retrace your steps and figure out when things started to look bad. Will you do that for me?”

  “I take it you think I already know the answer.”

  “I know you do. You just need to open up your mind to it.”

  ***

  An hour later, Gretchen stepped into the law offices of Donnellson, Gardner, and Cole. Things had been strained since the horrific day at the courthouse. She and Ms. Gardener initially worked well together. But after…?

  Yeah. It hadn’t been pretty.

  The cool air-conditioning raised goose pimples on her skin. The receptionist looked up from behind a mahogany desk, and her eyes widened. “Ms. Winters… um, Ms. Gardner would like to see you immediately.” Her eyes darted toward the door leading to the offices and back to Gretchen. A look of pity was written clearly across the girl’s face.

  A lump formed in Gretchen’s throat. “Thank you.”

  She walked back through the wide hall. The nameplate—Andrea Gardner, Attorney-at-Law—shone from the door at the end. Gretchen stepped down to it and knocked softly.

  “Come in.”

  Ms. Gardner always exuded an aura of true professionalism. Her suits were pressed so crisp you could cut a pineapple against it, she wore her make-up simple, always perfect, and nothing ever upset her.

  Today, she was upset.

  Gretchen stepped inside and closed the door.

  “I got a call from Jami Tollman’s caseworker. Her father fatally shot himself. Jami has been returned to the foster care system.”

  “No,” Gretchen breathed.

  “Yes. Apparently, he took your advice. According to Jami, he slapped her after she spilled a glass of juice. Then he calmly walked to another room, pulled out a gun, and shot himself in the temple.”

  “But I… I…” Gretchen’s stomach soured.

  “Listen, I know you didn’t mean what you said. You were upset. But word has gotten back to the judge in this case, and now I’m in the hot seat. I am being asked to dismiss you or face a reprimand.”

  Gretchen could feel her heart crumble in her chest. She couldn’t think of anything to say or do to repair this. There was nothing she could do. She stood, her limbs trembling.

  “I’m sorry, Gretchen. I have to dismiss you. You can clean out your desk after you speak to Detective Baum.”

  “Detective Baum?”

  Ms. Gardner nodded. “He’s waiting in the conference room.”

  Gretchen breathed deeply as she stepped toward the door. She hesitated, turning back. “Ms. Gardner, is Jami…?”

  “She’s back with the same foster family. They’ve already started adoption proceedings.”

  Gretchen cracked a weak smile and left the room. The door to the conference room stood open. The detective had his back to her when she entered.

  “Hello, Ms. Winters,” he said, looking out a window.

  “Detective?” Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

  He turned toward her. His face was round, he had a shadow of white whiskers sprinkled across his jaw, and his eyes pierced her. “I have a question that’s been plaguing my mind. How is it you tell a man if he hits his daughter again that he should put a bullet in his head, and low and behold, he hits her and does just what you told him to do?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “This case doesn’t add up. This man was messed up, but he’d never shown any suicidal tendencies. And here I have a young, wannabe attorney who seems to be able to predict the future.”

  “Maybe I’m psychic, and I was doing my best to warn him.”

  “You’re not psychic.”

  She shrugged.

  He stomped forward until he towered over her. “Something smells in this. And that smell is you.”

  “Are you charging me with a crime, Detective?”

  He tightened his jaw so severely that she could almost hear his teeth grind.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “I could hold you for forty-eight hours for questioning.”

  “But you’d have to show probable cause for holding me. My guess is you don’t have that, or you’d be bringing me in now. Detective Baum, I did not personally threaten Mr. Roberts. I’d never met him until that day in the courthouse, and I have not seen, nor spoken to him since. I cannot in anyway be found at fault for his death. Unless you think I have some magical power of suggestion, you have nothing on me. Now do you have any intelligent questions to ask me?”

  His blood seemed to literally boil beneath his skin, making his face all red and blotchy.

  “I didn’t think so.” She turned and strode through the door. Ms. Gardner stood leaning against her doorframe. She’d obviously heard every word. Giving a weak smile, she said, “I wish we could keep you on here. You’ll make a great attorney one day.” With that said, Ms. Gardner returned to her office and shut the door.

  Gretchen didn’t have much to pack: a picture of her parents and brother, a picture of her and Sara at a rugby game, and her lucky shark’s tooth necklace. Everything else in the office was provided by Ms. Gardner. Gretchen placed her few treasures in her purse and headed
out.

  The walk was a short one. Her apartment was just a mile from the law offices. Her building was a tall, brick throwback to the eighties, but at least it was well maintained. She glanced up to her apartment from the sidewalk below. The curtains were pulled shut, but she was almost positive she’d opened them that morning. The only other person with a key was Sara. Hal had kept bugging her about giving one to him, but she’d made the mistake of moving too fast in her last relationship. She didn’t want to mess this one up, so they’d agreed to take things slow.

  Maybe Sara was here. Perhaps this day wouldn’t go down as the worst day of her entire adult life.

  She jogged up the stairs and tried the door, but it was locked. Sara had always been a bit paranoid. Perhaps she’d locked it.

  Gretchen used her key and entered her apartment. The place was a mess. There were clothes strewn across the floor—a short, pink skirt, strappy, white sandals, Hal’s favorite jeans, and a lacy, yellow bra…

  She stopped herself before she started yelling. Hal’s keys sat on the coffee table. How did he get into her apartment? Did he steal a key?

  Laughter came from the bedroom. That cheating, lying, thieving… Gretchen’s whole body began to shake. She wasn’t sure if it she was about to go into a crying fit or a homicidal rampage. She sure didn’t want to cry, but then killing her cheating boyfriend would not make things any better—as an intern, she’d seen up close and personal what prison life was like. But she’d better find a way to diffuse her temper, and she’d better do it fast. Hal’s hairstyling bag—the greatest treasure of Honolulu’s up-and-coming hair designer—sat unguarded on the floor next to the sofa. And it was filled with the highest-quality equipment money could buy—worth thousands. Should she? She looked toward the window. It was three stories down to the pavement. She could easily toss it out and have her revenge. He wouldn’t be able to work until he replaced his tools.

  She relished the thought, but sighed, knowing she couldn’t do it. Darn her for having a conscience. Why should she? No one else seemed to.

  It only took one trip down three flights to carry the bag and all his and the slut’s clothes down to the street. She placed them on the sidewalk next to Gus, the neighborhood transient. He gave her a toothless grin as he sat on the curb. She smiled back, her spirits immediately lighter.

 

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