Jo started toward the bank of mahogany file cabinets opposite the large windows overlooking the Mississippi.
“No!” Maria practically screamed at her.
Jo stopped in her tracks, looking from Trent to Cinda. But they ignored her, their attention on Maria.
The woman wrung her hands and snarled. “Don’t you understand? I am not dealing with the State. They took my friend’s kids away from her. Connie hasn’t seen them since.”
“This is different.” Cinda’s smile looked forced. “DFS can help you work out care for your son. A plan. And you would be the one to have a say in where he … is placed.”
“Have you not heard one word I’ve said?” Maria bared her teeth and lashed out, arms flailing.
From where she stood, Jo could only see the woman’s profile, but there was rage in her posture. Jo thought she understood the scratches on Trent’s cheek now. Involuntarily, she took a step back. Trent wanted her to transport this woman? What if Maria went berserk on her while she was driving her home?
Trent rose to his full six feet two inches. “This conversation is over. I am sorry for your misfortune, Mrs. Castillo. I truly am. But we have explained again and again that we aren’t able to help you. You come in here and attack us”—he touched his cheek gingerly—“and expect us to offer our services to you free? We would have every right to prosecute you for battery.”
Maria’s eyes grew round, and she gripped the sides of her chair looking as though she might faint.
“No.” Cinda patted Maria’s knee as if she were a frightened child. “My husband isn’t saying we would do that. Just that we would be within our rights if we did. We want you to go home and enjoy whatever time you have left with your son.”
With a final pat on Maria’s back, Cinda rose. Joanna cringed at the dismissive gesture.
But Maria Castillo dug her heels into the carpet and gripped the arms of her chair. “I am not leaving until you promise you will help my son. And no DFS!”
Trent’s jaw tensed. “Joanna, please call the police.”
Maria turned her glare on Jo. “Go ahead! Call them! What do I care?”
Joanna had never called the police in her life. They employed a security guard, and her boss had threatened a client or two with removal. But never had the police become involved. She looked at her boss, as if he might change his mind.
But Trent waved a hand. “Go. Call them. Tell them to come and remove this woman.”
Cinda murmured something Jo couldn’t understand, but she didn’t wait to see if Cinda could change her husband’s mind. She ran from the room and to her own office down the hall. Her hands trembled as she dialed 911. Her voice wavered as she explained to the dispatcher what was going on.
“And will someone be there to let the officers into the building?” The dispatcher’s voice was maddeningly dispassionate.
“Yes, I’ll let them in. Tell them to come to the back parking lot.” She hung up the desk phone and started to go back down the hall to Trent’s office, but thinking better of it, she went straight to the staircase. A twinge of guilt nipped at her, knowing that her foremost thought was not to let Trent change his mind about having the woman removed from the building. Because if the police came, Jo wouldn’t have to be the one to drive the volatile Mrs. Castillo home.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Had Trent only called her in to play taxi for the woman? He and Cinda had two perfectly good vehicles, both in the parking lot this very moment. Why couldn’t they take her home? Or get an Uber ride? Carting irate clients—or worse, rejected clients—around town was not in her job description. Not even close.
She reached the bottom of the wide staircase and crossed the lobby to the back outside entrance.
What a night! Wait till she told her sisters. This would one-up her little sister’s story of the cops making an after-midnight run when Melvin knocked over a vase and Britt thought someone was breaking in to the house.
She heard tires on the pavement and looked up to see two police cruisers enter the parking lot, emergency lights strobing. Catching her reflection in the plate-glass windows, Jo realized she was smiling at the remembrance of Britt’s fiasco. She sobered immediately. It would not be good to have to explain to Cape Girardeau law enforcement what she found so funny about this situation.
It wasn’t funny. And she was thankful she hadn’t been here to witness Maria Castillo’s attack on her boss. It was bad enough seeing the young woman’s distress.
Three officers emerged from the cruisers and strode toward the building. Joanna met them at the door and held it open.
The oldest of the three stopped long enough to ask her, “Are you the one who called about the Pritchert situation?”
“Yes, sir. Trent and Cinda—the Pritcherts—are both upstairs.” She pointed toward the elevators.
“Is anyone in any immediate danger?”
“I don’t think so. The woman … Maria Castillo … wants them to represent her and Trent refused.”
The officer repeated the woman’s name and wrote something on a notepad.
“She’s … distraught.” Jo told the older officer about the scratches on Trent’s face. “I don’t know the details. It’s just that they can’t get her to leave.”
“All right, ma’am. We’ll take it from here.” He asked her about the layout of the building, then caught up with the other two officers waiting by the staircase. He pushed the button to summon the elevator, while the others took the stairs two at a time.
“Do I need to come up with you?”
“No, ma’am. You stay right here. And lock the outside doors until we come back down.”
Ten minutes crept by. Joanna paced in front of the windows overlooking the front parking lot. Traffic in the side street slowed as drivers gawked at the strobing cruisers angled in the back lot. Jo strained to hear what was going on upstairs. But only the buzz of a fluorescent light overhead disturbed the silence.
Finally the elevator dinged opened, and the two younger officers emerged with Maria between them, her hands cuffed behind her back. Her long dark hair fell over her forehead, and she looked so thin and pale, Jo worried the poor woman might collapse. Jo supposed the officers had no choice but to remove Maria forcibly, but Jo’s heart went out to her.
Trent had said she had cancer. Jo saw other signs now in her hollowed eyes and gaunt frame—the way Mom had looked near the end. How much time did this young woman have? Probably not much, given how desperate she seemed to find help for her son.
The sun was low in the sky now, and Jo watched as they placed Maria in a cruiser, an officer guiding her head beneath the car’s frame, then closing the door. Jo turned to go back upstairs, but the elevator door slid open, and Trent and Cinda stepped into the lobby, followed by the older officer.
Trent turned and shook the officer’s hand. The policeman left the building and drove off, leaving the parking lot dark and still beyond the plate glass.
Joanna turned to the couple. “Are you guys okay?”
“We’re fine.” Trent ran a hand over his short, curly hair. “Man, what a night.”
“Some welcome home, huh?” Jo felt awkward with them, not sure what had transpired while she was down here waiting in the lobby. “So, what happens now?”
“I don’t know.” Cinda took in a deep breath and released it slowly. “And thank goodness, it’s not our responsibility. I wasn’t sure how this night was going to turn out.”
At times, Cinda had seemed genuinely concerned when she spoke with Maria in the office. But it was all an act, and it bothered Jo that she could be so cold and uncaring now. Of course, Cinda had watched the woman attack Trent. Jo supposed her own compassion would have been tempered, too, if she were in Cinda’s shoes.
Trent waved a hand toward the parking lot. “You go on home, Jo. I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in this.”
“I didn’t do any work though. Was there something else you called about?”
&
nbsp; Cinda gave a humorless laugh. “No, we just wanted you to take that nutjob home so we could finish up the Wilson Estates paperwork tonight. We did not have time for this tonight.”
Jo must have looked befuddled because Trent quickly added, “We never would have involved you had we known she was going to go postal on us.”
“Trent …” Cinda touched his sleeve. “Postal might be a little strong.”
He swiped a hand over his cheek as if he disagreed.
“Will they tow her car?” Jo scanned the parking lot beyond the windows for an unfamiliar car, but only their three vehicles remained. “Wait … How did she get here in the first place?”
Trent came to the window and followed her line of sight to the mostly empty lot. “Didn’t she say someone dropped her off?” he asked Cinda.
“I don’t remember. And I don’t want to. Let’s get out of here. We can come in early tomorrow.”
Trent jangled his keys, then put an arm around his wife. “You go on home, Jo. We’ll lock the door behind you. We may still have to give a statement.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Cinda scavenged for something in her purse. “I’m going home.”
“I hope you guys can get some sleep after all the excitement.”
Cinda didn’t acknowledge her, still digging in her purse.
“Thanks for coming in, Jo.” Trent went to open the door. He held it for Jo.
She heard the lock turn behind her as she walked to her car. She unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. But the minute she turned the key in the ignition, her legs turned to rubber. She drove slowly out of the parking lot so Trent wouldn’t worry about her. But her hands were trembling so violently, she turned off on a side street and parked at the curb for a few minutes until she felt safe to drive.
CHAPTER 3
ARE YOU SERIOUS? SHE SCRATCHED his face?” Britt’s eyes were as round as the eggs she was frying. “I bet that went over well.”
“Well, I didn’t actually witness that part. Trent was already bleeding like a stuck pig when I got there.” An exaggeration, admittedly, but it wasn’t often Joanna had both her sisters’ rapt attention the way she did now, and she was going to milk her story for all it was worth.
“Aren’t you a little nervous to go back to work?” Phylicia’s brow wrinkled.
“A little, I guess. Especially if they let this woman go free.”
“Do you think the Pritcherts will press charges?” Britt popped half a bagel in the toaster. “Anybody want the other half?”
Phee declined.
Jo shook her head too. “I’ve kind of lost my appetite just thinking about last night. I was shaking so hard, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to drive home.” Her sisters had both been out when she’d returned to the cottage last night, and after calling Ginger, her closest friend and former roommate, to tell her what had happened, she’d collapsed into bed and slept till an hour ago. So, her sisters were only now hearing about her ordeal.
“You should have called me!” Phee scooted Jo aside with one hip and tossed her yogurt cup in the trash can under the sink.
Jo growled good-naturedly. “This kitchen was not made for three women!”
“Hey, it’s all yours.” Phee held up her hands. “I’m out of here. I’ll probably work late tonight. Mary wants to get some stuff up on social media in time for Mother’s Day flower orders, and I told her I’d help her set up an Instagram account. Then I’m having dinner with Quinn.”
“Oh, big surprise.” Jo rolled her eyes, then looked through the dining room to the mantel. “Did you get your May basket?”
Phee glowed. “Wasn’t that the sweetest?”
“It was pretty sweet,” Jo admitted. She glanced at the clock and gave a little gasp. “I’m already late!”
“What else is new? But hey, you be careful, okay?” Phee gave her a stern look.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Well, excuse me for caring about you.”
“Just kidding.”
“Bye, Britt,” they chimed in unison, gathering their jackets and bags.
“I’ll be working in the cabin today.” Britt trailed after them. “I’m going to wash windows so we can hang curtains this weekend.”
“Take Melvin with you.” Jo shot her little sister an impish look. “In case … you know …”
Phee barely held in her laughter. They’d seen a mouse in that cabin the first time they looked at the property, and Britt had freaked out. Well, they all had, much to Quinn’s amusement.
“Don’t you worry. Melvin’s coming with me. But if there’s still a mouse in that cabin after all the sawing and hammering and painting that’s been going on over there for the last couple of weeks, then he deserves to live out his days right there.”
“Wow, you’ve sure changed your tune.” Still laughing, Phee headed out the door for her car.
Jo laughed, too, but Britt was right. The cabin had a new roof, and the interior had been transformed into a clean white slate. They’d even given the ceilings a coat of fresh white paint, making the place look twice as big as it had when they first toured the three houses on the property. The two bedrooms had new carpet, and the floors in the main part of the cabin had been sanded and stained.
They would start on the second cabin once they replenished their renovation fund. Of course, everything had cost more than they expected, but they hadn’t gone in debt … at least not yet.
Jo had no regrets for buying the property with her sisters. She didn’t think Phylicia or Britt regretted it either. And once the cabins were both finished, they’d have better potential income from renting them out through Airbnb. Jo grabbed her keys from the hook near the front door. “I’d better get a move on. See you tonight.”
“Seriously, Jo. Be careful. I don’t like the sound of that woman.”
Jo glanced back to meet her little sister’s gaze, touched by her concern. “I don’t think she intended to hurt anyone. She was just desperate.”
“Well, you know what they say: Desperate people do desperate things.”
“I’ll be careful.” But as Jo drove into town, she couldn’t get the phrase out of her head.
The office looked like it did on any normal day. No indication that last night’s disturbance had ever happened. Jo put her purse in the desk drawer, smoothed the skirt of her dress, and slipped on her headset, ready to answer the phones and respond to email.
Trent and Cinda were across the hall in his office with some guy. Younger than Pritchert & Pritchert’s usual client—and good looking as all get out, at least what she could see of him from the reception room. Dark curly hair like Trent’s, a strong jaw that already wore a five o’clock shadow—and wore it well—and broad shoulders beneath a button-down shirt. For a minute she wondered if he might be one of Trent’s brothers, but though Jo couldn’t make out the conversation, their voices carried the low businesslike tones of a typical client conference. It didn’t seem like Trent or Cinda knew the man, and Jo had never seen him in the office before.
She didn’t know how long he’d been here, and there was no appointment on the calendar. Her boss sometimes scheduled last minute meetings without adding them to the calendar Jo had access to, but she thought he would have said something last night if he’d known he had an early consultation. Probably just forgot in all the excitement of last night. Or maybe this was about last night.
By the time the man emerged from the office twenty minutes later, two other clients were waiting in the reception room. Jo hated when the schedule got backed up this early. It threw the whole day off.
The man caught her eye and gave a polite smile. “I need to make another appointment. Mr. Pritchert said I should talk to Joanna.”
“Yes, that’s me. How soon do you need to come back in?”
“As soon as possible.”
Joanna scrolled through the appointment calendar, frowning. “He could see you two weeks from Friday. May 19. Right after lunch … say, one p.m. Will that work?”
“I’m sorry, no. I can put you on a waiting list, in case we have a cancellation.”
“Yes, please do. It’s Lukas Blaine. Lukas with a k. Middle initial P … if that matters.” He spelled his surname for her.
Jo took down his information. Blaine. Apparently not Trent’s brother. What business did he have with Pritchert & Pritchert? Probably handling paperwork for an aging parent, or more likely grandparent. She guessed him to be about her age, early thirties at most.
“So, were you here for the … whole police thing last night?”
She looked up at him, trying not to show her surprise. “How did you … know about that?” She probably shouldn’t have asked. Trent and Cinda were both extremely cautious about confidentiality and security, and there hadn’t been anyone else in the office last night. She was pretty sure even the janitor had left for the night by the time the police arrived.
“I … I’m a friend of Maria’s. Maria Castillo?”
“Oh. I see. I’m sorry.” Was that why he was here? His conversation with Trent and Cinda had seemed too calm to have been about last night.
“Sorry? Why?”
“Oh … Just for what happened. That she’s ill.”
“So, you were here when she came in to talk to Trent?”
“I was, but … I’m really not at liberty to discuss it.”
That made him smile. “I understand. I’m sorry I said anything. I hope you didn’t get … hurt.”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.”
“Okay. Good.” He took a step toward the elevator, then turned back to her desk. “Do you have a card? An appointment card, I mean. I’m afraid I’ll forget.”
“Sure. Let me get you one.” She opened a drawer and pulled a card from the stack. She printed his appointment date on it in careful block letters, then slid it across the desk to him.
“Thank you.” He tucked the card in his shirt pocket and gave her that smile again. “I appreciate it. You’ll call me if there’s an opening before the nineteenth?”
Chasing Dreams Page 2