What Laurel Sees: a love story (A Redeeming Romance Mystery) (10 page)

“What about the copy you promised me?”

Joe sailed by her. “You can print what’s on my screen.”

He made his way through the common area to the elevator bay. At least going to Laurel’s hearing would get him out of the office. He pressed the down button.

What was it about Laurel, anyway?  Everything about the woman set him off balance. She didn’t seem to want to have that effect on him, but then again, maybe she did. Laurel came in a decidedly more attractive package than Tom Zoring had, but maybe she was just as big a fraud as he’d been as a priest.

Then, there was the thing with her knowing about Clay. Sure, it had seemed like she pulled Clay’s name out of thin air, but that was hardly proof of this supposed gift she claimed. There had to be a rational explanation. She could have read about Clay in the paper, in connection with Zoring’s parole. A quick search on the Net would have yielded that much.

And that last thing she’d said before they’d parted—implying that God told her to choose him over the other papers—that had stuck in his craw all night. She had to know he could fact check those better offers she mentioned. Why would she lie about something so easy to confirm? Well, she hadn’t. One call to his old buddy at the
Times
backed up her story. Joe’s offer had paled by comparison.

And given that she didn’t lie about having better offers, then why would she have chosen him, at a time when she so desperately needed the money? Only one explanation seemed plausible. It must have been just like she said. She must have truly believed God told her to choose him. That was her psychosis. If he could chalk up her gifts to psychosis at all. Problem was, the ramblings of psychotics didn’t make sense.

Their visions didn’t come true.

It was all so hard to fathom. He’d studied psychology. He’d interviewed quite a few delusional sorts in his day. Laurel wasn’t a whit like any of them. Except for claiming to chat it up with God, she struck him as incredibly sane.

He massaged the bridge of his nose. If Laurel were in her right mind, that only left two possibilities. One, she was a con artist. Or Two—not that he could even start to wrap his head around it but—Two, Laurel actually had a hotline to God. That would be the God he didn’t believe in anymore.

The elevator doors slid open. Joe boarded. At least he had the car to himself. Hopefully, no one else would get on the thing.

Laurel’s face flooded back into his mind. In a way, he couldn’t help feeling for her. If this weren’t a delusion, if this weren’t a con, she’d been dealt a horrendous hand.

Then again, the whole damsel in distress bit, it could be a strategic part of her con. Not so tough for a natural beauty like Laurel to play on a man’s sympathies.

Only, Laurel didn’t seem like a con.

Actually, if she weren’t so religious, he would have thought she was kind of his type. Maybe that was clouding his judgment. He shook it off. Why was he even letting himself go there?

There’d been no arrest yet, but with the way Detective McTier kept sniffing around, Laurel was obviously a prime person of interest. That certainly put her in a no-win situation. The harder she fought to get her daughter back, the more that would look like motive to murder her ex.

And maybe it was.

People had killed for far less.

nine

L
aurel sat alongside her counsel, Bennett Flynn, in the crowded family courtroom. A shiver ran up her arms. Why hadn’t she brought a sweater? The air in there was as cool as the tenor of the room.

She wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at the opposing side’s table. Shana sat straight in her chair, eyes forward. She was flanked by that formidable attorney of hers, Howard Berg.

Judge Simons propped his glasses atop his balding head as he skimmed through part of the case file. Already, it was clear that Berg was well acquainted with the judge, but Flynn had encouraged Laurel not to let their familiarity intimidate her. There was, after all, a distinct advantage to Berg’s pull with the court. Berg had been able to secure a spot on the docket much earlier than lesser knowns might have.

As for Grace, she was nowhere to be seen. All Laurel could guess was that Shana’s nanny, Helen Reed, was watching her, somewhere nearby on the grounds. As much as Laurel longed for any glimpse of Grace, at least she could take some comfort in knowing that her daughter would be spared any disturbing details of the proceeding. In discovering her father’s body, she had already suffered far too much.

Howard Berg rose from his seat. He buttoned his jacket and called Detective Gavin McTier to the stand. Something knotted in Laurel’s stomach. The fact that McTier’s testimony was being called for by Shana’s attorney couldn’t be good. Not for her.

She glanced back at the gallery as McTier made his way forward. So much press was crammed into that area. Soon, their private trauma would be all over the news.

Laurel warmed to spot a familiar face among the media. Joe Hardisty. Ever so subtly, Joe tipped his head to her as she caught his eye. She reminded herself that Joe had come because he was being paid. Still, his presence was oddly consoling. Maybe, just maybe, he would get the story right.

Howard Berg cleared his throat. “Detective McTier, tell me. Is Mrs. Shana Fischer a subject of investigation relative to the death of her husband?”

Flynn raised a hand. “Relevance to family court?”

Jauntily, Berg rotated toward Judge Simons. “We acknowledge that we are here seeking a ruling on custody arrangements for the child, Grace Fischer, given her custodial parent’s demise. But surely it is of keen interest to this court to know if my client—as the deceased’s lawful widow—has been officially cleared.”

Judge Simons seemed to ponder the ruling for a moment. “All right.” The judge set his specs back down on his nose. “But careful, Counselor.”

Obviously pleased, Howard turned to McTier. “Detective, is Mrs. Shana Fischer a suspect?”

McTier leaned closer to the microphone. “No.  Same as Laurel Fischer, Shana Fischer claims she was alone in bed at the time of his death.”

Berg gestured back toward his client. “But am I correct to understand that you’ve been able to clear Shana Fischer?”

“That’s right.”

Laurel swallowed hard. In solely establishing Shana’s innocence, Berg had effectively cast doubt on Laurel’s. Definitely not a point in her favor. Any possibility of her involvement could completely sink her attempt to regain custody, even as Grace’s only surviving natural parent.

McTier pointed toward Shana. “See, Shana Fischer has a live-in, Helen Reed, who corroborates her story,” he said. “Ms. Reed swears that the estate’s security system could not possibly have been circumvented to exit without waking her. It lets off a piercing beep whenever it’s armed or disarmed. It also keeps an off-site computerized log of all entries and exits. I’ve checked the log myself. It was fully armed, and there were no entries or exits anywhere near the time-frame in question.”

Berg turned. He flipped his wrist in Laurel’s direction. “You mentioned Laurel Fischer, the deceased’s ex-wife.  Does she remain a suspect?”

In an instant, Flynn was on his feet. “Objection.  This is not a criminal proceeding.”

Judge Simons raised his brows. “Sustained.”

“Thank you.” Flynn said. “Further, we request that the record stipulate that Laurel Fischer has not been named as a suspect and, as such, does not and cannot ‘remain’ one.”

Laurel filled her chest. Belle was right about Flynn. He was doing a good job.

Judge Simons nodded. “So noted.”

Berg bowed deferentially. “Your honor, I was merely trying to establish whether or not there should be concern for the child’s safety in the care of either one of these women.”

With a knowing glance, the judge drummed his fingers. “I think I get the picture here, Mr. Berg. Let’s wrap it up.”

“Nothing further.” Berg headed to his table.

Flynn rose. Laurel felt her racing heart calm. Finally, someone was defending her.

“Detective,” Flynn started, “At the scene, did you hear Shana Fischer express any concerns for Grace’s safety when she released her into her mother’s care?”

Berg shot to his feet. “Object to the term ‘mother’ since making that determination is the function of this hearing.”

“Really, Mr. Berg.” The judge turned to McTier. “You may answer.”

The detective cleared his throat. “I did hear Shana Fischer say that she would’ve preferred for the girl to go with the administrative assistant.”

Flynn approached the stand. “That assistant, Rene Cox. Like Shana and Laurel Fischer, she’s also been questioned, correct?”

Berg raised a hand. “Objection. Relevance?”

Flynn turned to the judge. “Since doubt is being cast on my client over having been questioned, it goes to establish Shana Fischer’s willingness to entrust Grace’s care to yet another woman who has been questioned in this investigation.”

Judge Simons sat back. “Briefly, Counselor.”

“Thank you.” Flynn turned to McTier. “This administrative assistant, Rene Cox. Has she been cleared?”

McTier nodded. “Not completely, but her husband backs her alibi.”

“So, Kevin Cox has also been questioned?”

Judge Simons waved at Flynn. “Move on.”

Flynn compliantly tipped his head. “Going back to my original question, did Shana Fischer voice any specific safety concerns in allowing Grace to leave with her mother?”

“Well, no. Nothing about safety, but—”

“That’ll be all, Detective.” Flynn headed back toward his seat.

Laurel dropped her gaze. Flynn had done well. Suddenly, she became aware that the judge was studying her.

“Mr. Flynn,” the judge said. “This being the less formal venue of family court, I wonder if I might speak directly with your client.”

Flynn whispered an encouragement into her ear.  Laurel took a breath. “Yes, I’d be happy to speak with you, Your Honor.”

Judge Simons leaned in her direction. “Ms. Fischer. That’s Ms. Laurel Fischer, for the record. I’ve been going over the transcripts of the prior custody hearing’s findings, and it makes me wonder. Can you tell me—have you sought any sort of psychological care or counseling since the last custody decision?”

Laurel’s heart raced. All she could answer was the truth. “No. I haven’t. I live on a budget and I honestly don’t believe I need it, since I’m of completely sound mind.”

Flynn patted his hand on her arm. “Your honor, if I might interject for the benefit of those less familiar with the record. During the previous proceeding, my client’s mental health evaluation was made by a single psychiatrist, paid by the opposing petitioner, an avowed atheist who is predisposed against people of faith.”

Quietly in her heart, Laurel thanked God for Flynn. Even as little as she’d been able to pay him, he was truly advocating for her.

“Ms. Fischer,” the judge said. “I’m curious. Do you still believe you see visions, and that you hear God’s voice, speaking to you?”

Laurel regarded the judge directly. Here was her chance to say what had been denied to her during the last hearing. A peace that passed understanding filled her being. “I’m just an ordinary woman, Judge. For the most part, I live an ordinary life. Yes, I interact with a God that most people in this country believe exists. The Bible so many swear on says that people of faith will see visions, and I do. It says His sheep will hear His voice, and I do. I don’t think that makes me crazy, let alone unfit as a mother.”

Laurel gazed over at Shana. In her peripheral vision, she could see Shana watching her, but the moment Laurel caught her eye, Shana abruptly averted her gaze. 

Judge Simons took a moment to mull the matter over, then picked up his gavel. “After a short recess, I believe I’d like to speak to the child in chambers. No press. Petitioners and counsel only, please.”

As discreetly as she could, Shana studied Laurel down the courthouse hallway. Laurel’s lawyer had come across well, much better than his off-the-rack suit might have indicated. So much for appearances.

Now, if the judge were on the fence at all, it seemed that it could come down to Grace, and whatever she would say.

Shana ran her fingers over her throat. She’d prepared the child as well as she knew how. She’d loved her with all her heart. She’d provided for her in every possible way. But the one thing she couldn’t ever bring herself to do was to speak a word against Laurel. Even at seven, Grace would never stand for that. More to the point, it just wouldn’t be right. 

Howard sidled up to Shana. “Helen is escorting Grace into chambers now, but don’t worry. They won’t start until we get there.”

“I don’t like this, Howard.” She felt her teeth clench.

Howard put a hand on her shoulder. “Relax. It’s going fine.” She told herself he meant well, but his consolations fell flat.

Shana cut her eyes toward Laurel. “I don’t know what Frank saw in her, but she must have been involved somehow, either with him or his murder.  Or both. How else do you explain the phone calls?”

“Don’t go there,” Howard said.

“Come on, Howard. Frank cheated on her with me, then he cheats on me with her.” Shana could feel her pulse rising.
Breathe
, she coached herself.

“Shana, listen to me. You don’t know that.”

Shana felt her eyes begin to moisten. “She had such a hold on him, even after the divorce. He always had this love/hate thing with her whole quasi-spiritual vibe.”

Howard glanced Laurel’s way. “It is kind of alluring.”

“Great, Howard.” She burned him with a look. “Just great. Thanks.”

His shoulders went up. “It is.”

Shana’s lips parted. This was unbelievable.

A knowing smirk curled on Howard’s lips. “It’s attractive to some people.” He leaned in close. “But I know this judge, all the way back from law school. And trust me, Shana. He isn’t so high on the type.”

Shana and Howard filed into Judge Simon’s chambers, just behind Laurel and her attorney. Shana longed for a glimpse of Grace’s expression—some affirmation of their connection—but Grace was already seated in front of them. As petite as Grace was, she was absolutely swallowed by the adult-sized leather chair.

Grace pressed on the arms of the chair and started to look behind her.

Immediately, Judge Simons leaned over her seat. “Remember, Grace. Everyone is behind you, so they can hear what you have to say. But let’s not turn around, right now. I’d like you to just look at me while we talk. Is that all right?”

Briefly, Shana caught Grace’s eye. Whether it was her position in the room or not, it felt good that Grace’s eye-line never reached as far around as where Laurel stood directly behind Grace. Shana sweetly smiled, encouraging Grace to face forward. Surely, the judge would appreciate her cooperation.

Grace turned back to face the judge. “Okay.”

The judge perched on the edge of his desk. “Grace, do you understand that you can tell me the truth no matter how hard it is?”

Grace nodded.

“Good, Grace. Now, I want you to think about it and tell me who you’d rather live with—your mother, Laurel, or your stepmother, Shana.”

Shana’s heart burned in her chest.

Grace sat back. “That’s not hard,” she said. “I want to live with my mom.”

Everything in Shana crumbled.

Wistfully, Grace pressed the leather cushion on the arm of the chair. “I know that’s how it’s going to turn out anyway.”

Howard grabbed Shana’s arm.