Courting Trouble (23 page)

“Your sister has come a long way since you got there,” Sylvia said.

“He’s good with Ash,” Tulsa said. “I’ve told Savannah that.” Tulsa turned her now-empty coffee cup in her hand. “I think eventually they could have a really solid father-daughter relationship.”

Her heart fluttered with her words. She hoped. She prayed. Tulsa, even with all her success, still felt the bottomless absence of a dad—a father in her life. A man who loved her and protected her. A man who thought she hung the stars and the moon. She wanted that for Ash. Tulsa wanted the security that came with knowing that there was always one man in the world that loved you no matter what.

“He must be doing a good job for you to say so,” Sylvia said.

“Anything new with…” Emma’s words drifted off. She left her question open-ended so that Tulsa might fill in the unspoken words about any topic she wanted.

A weariness drifted through Tulsa. A fatigue that weighted her limbs. Was this grief? Grief that she’d not allowed herself to feel because she’d been too busy slogging uphill, first through school and then in a career? She could let Emma’s open-ended question slide by. She could shut them out. She could, as she had done in the past, not tell her friends about her family and her personal life.

But their eyes were so alert, their faces so tuned in, all three of them. Their brows crinkled with concern, eyes intense with warmth and caring, mouths pursed with waiting words to be offered in support.

These three women, Sylvia, Emma, and Jo, waited to help—they waited, she knew, for her to let them. In the past, she now realized, she’d been too fearful to let them too close. Unwilling to make herself vulnerable to them and their potential judgment of her family, of her mother, of her. But these three sets of eyes weren’t filled with judgment. These three sets of eyes were filled with kindness, love, and concern. This time she would engage, this time she would reach out, this time she would open herself to these three women she trusted.

Tulsa pressed her palms flat onto the table. “I found the only known witness to my mother’s death.” The words rushed out from her like water breaching a levee.

“You found Wilkes Stevenson.” Jo’s words skipped out fast.

Jo was a former ADA, a brilliant prosecutor, and a protective friend. By now Jo probably knew Connie’s case forward and backward. Jo’s restraint, evidenced by the fact that she hadn’t called Tulsa and set forth a plan to go about investigating Connie’s case, was testament to Jo’s love and respect for Tulsa, because once Jo determined something that she was after she was like a hungry leopard looking for a kill. Unshakable.

“I found Wilkes’s daughter,” Tulsa said. “I still haven’t heard from Wilkes.”

“I could call the DA in Powder Springs,” Jo jetted out. “Would it be easier for you if I made that call?”

Easier?
Yes. But while Tulsa wanted to include her colleagues, her friends, she didn’t want them to take over her battle.

“I may.” Tulsa ran her tongue over her lips and looked at her whitened fingertips that still pressed against the wooden table, then looked back to her friends. “I mean, I
am
going by the DA’s office today.”

Once Tulsa saw Kyle Edwards, the Powder Springs DA, the reopening of Connie’s case became real—official.

“We’re here,” Emma said, “when you need us.”

Tulsa nodded. To need anyone, for Tulsa, was a dangerous thing.

*

Bobby and Savannah’s custody conference should have been easy. The conference should have gone smoothly. The conference should have been finished painlessly and with speed.

But that was before.

Before Bobby Hopkins showed up in Cade’s office early afternoon. Before Bobby told Cade about the changes in his life. Before this sick and sour feeling settled in the pit of Cade’s gut with the knowledge of what he had to do.

For a single second, Cade paused in the doorway of the conference room. Savannah sat beside Bradford. Her lips carried strain with the tight little lines that flared out from her mouth, but her eyes seemed softer, not filled with as much fury. Instead, a hint of resignation resided in her eyes. Bradford sat loose-limbed, pleased with the prospect of an agreed-upon settlement that saved Ash from testifying.

Yes, this conference should have been easy—but it wouldn’t be.

Cade slid into the room and reached across the table. He first shook Savannah’s and then Bradford’s hand.

“I had my office draw up the custody agreement,” Bradford began, “based on our discussions. “ He withdrew crisp white papers from his briefcase. “We’ll leave them with you; you can sign them and then we’ll get them filed.”

Savannah’s lips were no longer tight but her eyes held a resigned uncertainty.

“We’re pleased Ash won’t have to testify,” Bradford said, “and Judge Wilder will be pleased as well. No one wants a teenaged girl to have to pick a parent.”

Cade bit down on the inside of his right cheek and the tiny muscle in his jaw flinched. Yes, no one wanted a teenaged girl to make such a choice—to carry such a heavy burden as to choose one parent over the other. Cade too had been happy when it seemed Savannah and Bobby had an agreement.

“Things have…” Cade held the agreement in his left hand and glanced down at the white pages and then back up into Savannah’s eyes. “Things have substantially changed for my client.”

The smile on Bradford’s face, the smile indicating a happiness over the closure of this case, the smile that echoed his client’s confidence that they were doing what was in the best interest of Ash—that effervescent smile evaporated from Bradford’s face.

“How so?” Bradford asked.

“Mr. Hopkins has found a job,” Cade said. “In Alaska. A job that he’s accepted. “

Hope sprang into Savannah’s eyes. She didn’t see the kicker—at least not yet. Savannah thought Bobby would be gone, that life would return to how it had been before Bobby had come home to Powder Springs—that she and Ash and even Tulsa could return to the normalcy of their lives, but Bradford knew. Bradford lifted his brow. The hint of a smirk decorated the right side of his mouth. He knew what was coming—he’d read the tells—and steadied himself against the gut punch on its way to being landed.

“And my client,” Cade continued, “wants to take his daughter with him.”

The moment of silence after Cade’s statement felt all at once infinite and fleeting. Savannah’s face shifted. First her eyes and brows rose with her head cocked. Then a sense of confusion rolled off her. Slowly, as Cade’s statement registered, her mouth opened and with a quick gasp of breath her fingers clamped down on the tabletop as if she grappled for something to hold.

Savannah looked at Bradford, who had molded his face back to the steely, impenetrable, emotionless look of an attorney. Gone was the joviality of the moment where he thought that the best interest of both his client and her daughter would be served. When Savannah witnessed Bradford’s look—that this was no joke but a shift in reality that infringed on her and her daughter’s future—her face hardened and the surprise dropped from her eyes. Her confusion was replaced by the deeply etched hardness of McGrath will and the undercurrent of McGrath temper.

“That is completely unacceptable,” Bradford said. His tone held no edge, just a stark, simple hardness that conveyed a fact. “But you know that. There is no way my client will agree to allowing her fourteen-year-old daughter to move to Alaska with a man Ash has known for a matter of weeks.”

Cade nodded and took a breath. He did know.

Bradford closed his briefcase. There was no anger—he was too much of a pro to be angry—but there was disappointment, on both sides. What had seemed to be a quick and easy settlement conference had, with the wishes of Cade’s client, once again become a highly contested custody battle.

“I’ll let the court know we’ve failed to reach an agreement.” Bradford stood and Savannah did, as well. Her gaze was steely, but she wobbled a tiny bit as though still dazed by Bobby’s blow. “You’ll make your client aware of the disruptive nature of this request with regards to Ash and her life here?” Bradford’s eyes flicked from Cade’s face to Bobby’s.

“Mr. Hopkins has spoken to his daughter.” Cade looked at Savannah. He knew the next words would wound—and for that very reason wished he didn’t have to say them. “It would seem this is something that Ash wants, too.”

The gasp of air from Savannah confirmed Cade’s suspicion.

“We’ll speak to my client’s daughter and be prepared for the hearing next week.”

Cade nodded. He didn’t move to open the door. Savannah wouldn’t meet his gaze. He simply stood and watched them walk away.

*

Tulsa didn’t expect the Powder Springs district attorney to welcome her. When she showed up at Kyle Edwards’s office in the middle of the day, without an appointment, she anticipated that Kyle’s assistant would unceremoniously toss her out on her ass and refuse her entry until she made a proper appointment.

Kyle surprised her.

He now sat across from her at his desk. He was a short man and in high school, an even shorter boy. He hadn’t received the perks reserved for Powder Springs athletes: no easy summer jobs, no beautiful teenaged girls to complete his homework, no back-slapping congratulations. Instead, Kyle worked hard for everything he wanted. He worked his way straight through college and all the way to a law degree. Then he returned to Powder Springs and worked his way through a campaign for district attorney that everyone told him he couldn’t win. Instead of believing the naysayers, he proved them wrong and won the election. Twice. Kyle had been the Powder Springs DA for the last seven years. So at least Kyle had a bit of pluck. An underdog who’d made good. Tulsa hoped she’d find an ally in Kyle Edwards.

“You need to reopen the Connie McGrath case,” Tulsa said.

Kyle’s mouth dropped open for a millisecond before he hid the surprise on his face. He leaned back in his chair and pressed together his fingertips.

“You have new evidence?”

“A witness.”

His eyes flickered with interest and his lips twisted the tiniest bit before he spoke. “This case happened way before my tenure as a DA, but it’s one of those cases that still bothers me. I read the file when I got elected, and Tulsa, I gotta say there wasn’t much to go on. There was Connie brought into the hospital where she…” His eyes jumped to hers and a sudden knowledge made him pause. He caught himself as though he suddenly remembered that he was speaking not just about any other victim, but in fact he was speaking about Tulsa’s mother. Kyle cleared his throat and his gaze flickered away from Tulsa’s face. When his eyes again met Tulsa’s, they were softer and his tone held a hint of reverence. “Where she never regained consciousness.”

Tulsa swallowed around the tightly clamped ball in her throat.

“Then there were the rumors,” Kyle continued. His voice got lower, almost as though someone might eavesdrop and hear his words. “About Hudd and also Wilkes Stevenson.”

Kyle moved forward in his chair. He placed his forearms on his desk and leaned over the calendar ink blotter where he’d scribbled illegible notes on the different days. “But Hudd?” Kyle nearly whispered. He tilted his jaw down and raised both brows so that the lines that formed on his forehead were like dunes in the sand. “Hudd had an airtight alibi. Wilkes? He up and disappeared before the sheriff could question him.”

“Wilkes is on the edge of Yampa National Forest.”

“Excuse me?”

“Wilkes and his family have lived in the same house for the last fifteen years.” Tulsa held her tone even but felt the tiniest tension in her lips. “I can think of only one reason why he wasn’t questioned.” She hardened her gaze as if daring Kyle to ask.

“And that is?”

“To protect Hudd Montgomery.”

Kyle peered at Tulsa, his face flat and without emotion. His other features were dwarfed by his hawkish nose.

“You sure you want to do this?” He tilted his head and threw both hands upward. They reached toward Tulsa. “Have you seen Hudd lately? The man barely knows his name.”

“I don’t care if the man can’t say his ABCs,” Tulsa replied, her emotion loosening her even tone and making her voice wobbly. “I want to know what happened to my…” She took a quick breath and forced her heart to slow. “We need to know what happened to our mother.”

Kyle’s mouth softened and the tension in his face disappeared. His eyes held an understanding, a communal knowledge of what it meant in this town—in any small town—to be on the outside of anything, looking in.

Kyle’s voice was now softer, kinder. “Tulsa, you don’t live here anymore.” He shook his head with a gentle warning. “You stir up this muck and then hot trot back to Los Angeles—what happens to Savannah and Ash once you leave? Having to deal with hearings and a grand jury and potentially front-page news all the way to Denver?”

“Are you saying a murder case shouldn’t be reopened because it might be difficult for my family?”

“Tulsa,” Kyle said, his voice still calm and patient. “This isn’t a murder case and never was. It’s a hit and run with no evidence and no witnesses.”

“Until now,” Tulsa said.

“Until now.”

Kyle rested back in his chair. His eyes went from Tulsa to his desk. He squinted as though rolling the fact of the long-ago unsolved case through his mind. A case that predated his tenure as DA and Wayne’s tenure as sheriff by more than a decade. Finally, he nodded twice and looked across the desk to Tulsa.

Her fingertips tingled and a damp sweat clung to her palms. She was invested—physically—emotionally. She’d hidden the need for the truth by running away. She’d drugged her need for the truth by working. But this desire would not go away. Even if Savannah didn’t want the truth, even if Cade didn’t want the truth—even if it was painful and hard and damned inconvenient to find the truth, no matter the hurt, no matter the cost—she’d withstand every bit of pain to know exactly what had happened to her mother.

“Even if Hudd did hit Connie on the road that night, the man has lost his mind and I don’t think I can prosecute him, even with a witness.”