As the taxi drove her from the hotel to the law firm where she’d rented a conference room for the day, Emilie glanced out the window toward the beach. She’d spent her time since arriving in Virginia Beach yesterday going through her notes and preparing for today’s deposition and tomorrow’s hearing back home. It felt right to be back at it, actively engaged in helping clients. She felt the clarion call in her soul to walk the sandy shore, but she resolutely stayed in place. There was something about the power of the waves and the tenacity of the sand that spoke to her. It whispered hope that she could withstand the waves crashing over her. God was bigger than the pressures she faced.
The entire image of the empty beach with crashing waves and soaring seagulls reinforced the image. The gospel of Matthew was clear that God cared about the detailed needs of those birds; but if that were true, why did it so often feel like He overlooked the needs of her clients? With one breath, He could fix everything that was wrong in their lives, but He didn’t. She wasn’t sure she could ever reconcile that with the image of a grace-filled God.
She shook her head. She needed to clear her scattered thoughts and focus on this deposition.
It hadn’t been her choice to hold it so far from DC. It had been necessary to protect her client. Sandra’s ex had made it clear he would do anything and everything to find her and bring her back. Taylor had created an elaborate plan to misdirect him from their client’s actual location, and that misdirection had Sandra flying north from North Carolina while Emilie flew south.
Emilie prayed it worked, because if something were to happen to Sandra, it would crush her.
Sandra had worked too hard to break away from Garth.
The moment Emilie stepped from the cab, her phone rang.
“Can I come in now?” Sandra’s voice was quiet, but there was a core strength that hadn’t been present when she’d first met with Emilie to discuss her legal options.
Emilie looked around as the taxi pulled from the curb. “I don’t see him.”
“Have you checked the lobby?”
“Not yet.” She waited for the doorman to open the door and then did another slow turn. “He’s not here. I think you’re safe.”
Not a minute later a red Mustang convertible pulled to the curb. A curvy brunette slipped from the passenger side and headed toward the door. One would have to look close to see the blonde roots that hinted at a former appearance. Sandra hurried inside and offered Emilie a tentative hug before following her across the lobby.
The ride up the elevator to the sixth floor was silent as Sandra played with the strap of her designer purse. Right before the doors opened, Emilie put a hand on hers to still the movement. “It will be okay. This firm knows to be alert for trouble.”
Sandra took a deep breath, held it a moment, and then nodded as the doors slid open. “I’ll be fine.”
As Emilie studied Sandra, she believed her. Sandra would make it. She would be fine.
The two stopped briefly at the receptionist’s desk in the middle of a large lobby. A minute later a paralegal escorted them down a hallway lined with beautifully framed seascapes. Floor-to-ceiling glass sat on either side of a closed door, and sunlight poured from the room through the glass into the hallway. They stepped inside, and Emilie admired how light and open it felt even with a large table anchoring the room.
“You can help yourself to water or a soda.” The young woman pointed toward a counter above the mini fridge. “There are notepads and pens there if you need them. If you need anything else, I’m at the desk around the corner.”
“Thanks, I think you’ve provided everything.”
The woman left, and Sandra sank onto a chair, then pushed a hand against her stomach. “I think I’m ready.”
“You are.” Emilie’s gaze strayed to the hand that covered the spot where her client’s child grew. “This will be over soon.”
“It has to be. At this rate I won’t be able to squeeze into Spanx much longer.” She smiled briefly, then her face grew serious.
“I know.” That knowledge weighed on Emilie. She had to force this to an end as quickly as humanly possible. The challenge was managing opposing counsel and the ex, who could never know the child was his. His abuse had already caused two miscarriages.
Twenty minutes later, when opposing counsel entered the reserved conference room, Emilie wanted to scream. Sandra’s ex sauntered in as well, looking debonair and angry. “He’s not supposed to be here.”
Attorney Arnold Switzer sank onto a leather chair and set his briefcase on the stained mahogany table. “He has a right to hear everything she says, and I need him to assist with questioning.”
Emilie turned to Sandra, expecting to see her client cowering in the chair. Unfortunately, if they called the judge, Switzer would likely win. Sandra sat with perfect posture, chin slightly tipped, gaze focused straight ahead.
“It’s all right.” Sandra’s voice was quiet but firm, without a trace of a waver.
Emilie searched her eyes and then nodded. “All right. Let’s get started.”
Five hours later Emilie felt bruised but so proud of her client. The woman had gone round for round with Switzer, her gaze locked on Garth. Opposing counsel had been unable to get anything out of her that would harm her case. Instead, Emilie was confident the deposition recorded everything she needed to get the case fast-tracked to a resolution in Sandra’s favor. It hadn’t taken more than fifteen minutes for Garth’s true colors to show as he interrupted and expounded on each of Sandra’s answers. It would be a beautiful transcript to put in front of the judge.
Sandra was safely on her own flight, but Emilie’s flight back to Reagan National had been delayed. The deposition had gone well, but she was ready to get to her home, take a relaxing bath, and let the stress of the day evaporate.
She sat in her tiny seat, fingers curled around the armrests as turbulence bounced the plane across the sky. She forced her fingers to uncurl. Wesleys didn’t show fear. It was far too pedestrian an emotion. Her father had drilled the message into her with each scraped knee and nerves-inducing speech. She was expected to rise above all challenges.
But her mind had lost that memo, forgotten the speeches.
As the plane bounced through another change in air pressure, she twisted her grandmother’s ring and hoped her nervous stomach would calm. When that failed, she reached for the nearest barf bag. It felt like she’d hopped on the wildest roller coaster and the nearest exit was three hundred miles away.
She held the wax-coated bag in her lap, praying she wouldn’t need it. Was the opening big enough? She didn’t want to find out. She used trembling fingers to pull the opening as wide as it would stretch.
The plane stabilized, but her fears didn’t. Her mind went back to her car “accident” in April. The police had downplayed her fear. Hayden too. She’d assured Emilie that there was no way a random shot fired by an errant hunter near an expressway could have anything to do with her personally. It was easier to believe that, but while Emilie had pretended to go along, she couldn’t. The police and Hayden didn’t know about everything else that had happened.
Add in the note she’d found in her purse Friday, and she was ready to second-guess every assurance she’d received. Watching Sandra bravely tip her chin and answer each question as if it didn’t matter that the man who terrified her sat across from her dissecting each word had only reinforced Emilie’s fear.
Sandra knew who her stalker was. Emilie did not.
The person lurked in deep shadows, present but hidden.
Kaylene, the former Miss Iowa, could not have murdered one daughter and tried to kill the other. It didn’t matter that the police believed the facts were clear. It shouldn’t affect her that one grainy video made the public and media accept the evidence as infallible. Emilie knew it was wrong.
Just as she knew the accident in April hadn’t been an accident.
As the plane made its way back to Reagan, she felt paralyzed between what she knew and what the rest of the world believed.
Would anyone believe her this time?
She didn’t know, but she had to try to reach the police before the investigation into the shooting closed with a summary decision: murdering mom kills one girl and critically injures the other.
She had watched Kaylene tremble while telling her story of a love gone dreadfully wrong. She had coaxed Kaylene to believe more was possible. She had teased Kaylene into daring to dream. And then Kaylene had taken her girls and returned home. The woman had been absolutely convinced she could salvage her marriage, change her husband, pursue a real relationship. Instead, she’d gone dark.
She’d stopped returning phone calls.
Her e-mail account disappeared.
The photos on Facebook showed a woman crawling back into her shadows rather than striding into freedom.
And Emilie had sat in her office in Arlington, Virginia, helpless to do anything until Kaylene became firm in her decision.
Wesleys didn’t feel helpless, so when Kaylene had called begging for help, Emilie had leapt at the chance to get the protective order. She’d reminded Kaylene that they couldn’t get to court until Monday. Kaylene had called again on Sunday, hesitant but still committed. They’d made their appointment to meet at court at noon. If she’d planned to shoot her girls, why would she have gone to that effort? It didn’t make sense.
The plane reentered placid skies, but Emilie knew there was no calm in store for her. Not until she could get justice for her client. And not while she was convinced that someone was stalking her.