- -
- 100%
- +
But in the past hour he’d started to worry. What if she’d been injured more seriously than he thought? You could never tell with trauma to the head. Since Lara was out for the night, Sally could end up lying on the floor until morning.
But as he turned onto her street, he saw that she wasn’t alone. There was an SUV he didn’t recognize parked in her driveway. What the hell was going on? He glanced at his dash. It was almost three in the morning. The lights were out in the house, so Sally wasn’t entertaining late.
Unless this was a party for two.
Neil pulled up next to the SUV. He got out of his car and touched the hood of the other vehicle. Stone cold.
He turned to the house, went to the window and peered inside. Couldn’t see anything except a faint light from the hall that led to the bedrooms.
Was Sally scared to sleep in the dark?
Or maybe she wasn’t sleeping.
He didn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit.
He considered sneaking inside—he’d made a copy of Lara’s house key shortly after they’d moved into the new place and Lara had told him the security code, too. But there was the dog to contend with. Before they’d bought that miserable animal, he’d indulged in the occasional late-night foray. Those days were over now. He couldn’t take the chance that the dog would bark.
Neil shoved his hands into his pockets, frustrated.
He was a family man. This house should be theirs not hers and he should be in bed with her right now, their three kids sleeping down the hall.
Instead, Sally lived on her own and he only saw his daughter on alternate weekends and every Wednesday.
Neil’s fingers closed around the key in his pocket. He rubbed it as if it was a charm, wishing he could somehow transport himself inside without the dog noticing. He was desperate to find out if Sally was sleeping with the guy who belonged to this SUV.
If she was, it was a big deal. Sally didn’t hook up with many men. He’d made it his business to keep tabs on her life, especially her love life. It was not only his right, as the only man who had ever been married to her, it was his responsibility. They had a daughter after all.
Lara. She was the proof that he and Sally belonged together. How could they not, when the combination of their genes had created someone so wonderful, so perfect.
Neil never stopped marveling over her. Their child was beautiful, smart and kind, and on top of all that, a talented athlete. With Olympic potential. Olympic.
You’d think Sally would count her blessings to have a daughter like that. But no, she continued to work—had done so since Lara was eight months old. And not only had she spurned her traditional role as a mother, she’d washed her hands of being a wife, too.
She’d tried to marginalize him. Him, the father of her child. It was a crime. And the bigger sin was this country’s liberal legal system that made it possible for women to get away with behavior like that.
Neil cast one more fruitless glance into the house, then finally gave up and headed for his car. Whatever was going on, at least he knew she wasn’t unconscious on the kitchen floor. Though now he almost wished she were.
“STILL TIRED after your sleepover?” Sally asked her daughter on Monday morning.
Lara said, “Not really,” and then she yawned, which made both of them laugh. “Maybe a little,” she conceded.
The weekend, like all of her daughter’s weekends, had been busy. After the sleepover, Lara spent Saturday afternoon training with her ski team. On Sunday Sally had driven Lara and her friend Jessica to the ski hill at Sunshine for what would probably be their last ski outing of the season.
Sally had sipped hot chocolate in the lodge while the girls skied like mad all morning. By mid-afternoon the snow turned slushy. They’d left early, dropped Jess at home then had cheese fondue for dinner, followed by a hot bath and bed.
Now, as Lara ate her breakfast, Sally slathered cream cheese on bagels for both of their lunches and cut up fruit.
She worked awkwardly, favoring her left hand. The bandages were off, the exposed skin puckered and tender. But at least the stitches on her head were healing nicely and the headache had cleared. She felt almost normal again, and in the sunlight, with her daughter slouched on a stool at the kitchen counter, and the prospect of a regular workweek ahead of her, it was tempting to chalk up her experience with Neil on Friday as a very bizarre, frightening anomaly.
Neil hadn’t meant to hurt her. That wasn’t his style. It wouldn’t happen again.
But Sally, who specialized in family law, and had volunteered for many years with the Women’s Emergency Shelter, had worked around abused women too long to let herself get away with such easy rationalizations.
Neil had crossed a line on Friday night. It was certainly possible he would do it again if the right opportunity presented itself.
She would have to make sure that opportunity never occurred. She wasn’t naive or unempowered like so many of her clients. She could handle this situation. She could handle Neil. Later she would phone a handyman service to get the kitchen door fixed so it would be easier to keep locked. She’d make better use of her alarm system, too.
Those were both good, concrete steps to take, but Sally was afraid they wouldn’t be enough. The real problem here was that Neil was Lara’s father, and as such, Sally couldn’t barricade him from her house or her life as thoroughly as she wanted.
Had she made a mistake not reporting his assault to the police?
She knew what her answer would have been for a client in a similar situation. Definitely, she should have contacted the police, if only to have a record of her complaint.
She knew it, but she still couldn’t make herself take such a drastic step. Accusing Neil would set an unavoidable sequence of events into motion. For sure Neil would deny the charges. The ensuing battle would be horrible for Lara. Friends and associates would find themselves choosing sides. Many, she feared, would refuse to believe that Neil was capable of such behavior.
The scandal would probably wreck her chances of becoming a judge, at least this time around. And who knew when the next opportunity would arise?
Sally packed Lara’s bagel and fruit into a bag, along with a yogurt and a couple of cookies. “I guess we’d better get moving. You can finish your toast in the car.”
Lara slid to the floor. Her tight jeans and T-shirt revealed the subtle new curves to her lean, athletic body.
My baby, Sally thought, sadly. Why did she have to grow up so fast?
“I have to go to Jessica’s to work on our social studies project after school,” Lara reminded her, as she shifted her backpack onto her shoulders. “Can you pick me up at six?”
“No problem.” Sally tossed her own lunch into her briefcase then slipped on her blazer and made sure her cell phone was clipped at her waist. She let Armani inside and put him in the laundry room with his toys and water. She’d hired a pet-sitting service to come into the house around noon to take him for a walk. Still, she piled newspapers in the corner of the room in case he had an accident.
Lara stopped to give him a hug on her way out the door. “I love you, Armani.”
Following their morning routine, Sally dropped her daughter off at school, then headed for her downtown office. During this part of the drive she usually turned off the radio station her daughter liked to listen to and focused on the day ahead of her.
But today she couldn’t concentrate on her morning appointments.
Colin Foster. She’d done her best not to think of him since he’d left her house on Saturday morning, about half an hour before Lara was scheduled to come home. She didn’t want to remember how unexpectedly kind and gentle he’d been with her.
Oh, she’d seen him that way with Beth, especially in the later stages of the cancer. But Sally had never expected to experience such treatment herself.
Or to enjoy it so much.
Poor Colin must have had very little sleep on Friday night. He’d checked on her several times, and once she’d woken to see him sprawled out in the chair in her room. Their glances had connected across the quiet bedroom, then she’d pretended to fall back asleep again.
In the morning he’d made her breakfast. Boiled eggs and coffee and lightly browned toast. They’d shared the weekend paper, reading out snippets of interesting facts to each other.
He’d fussed over her a little, but not too much. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of her that way. Probably her Mom when Sally had the chicken pox in grade six.
Don’t be so nice to me, she’d longed to say to him. Colin Foster was easy to handle when he was acting arrogant and overconfident. This other side of him put her off balance.
Determinedly, Sally blocked the mental image of Colin at her breakfast table from her mind. Her life was complicated enough without her searching for more things to worry about.
With a sigh, she turned the radio back on, and was accosted by a mechanical beat and repetitive rap lyrics. Heavens, why did Lara like this stuff?
SALLY’S FIRST APPOINTMENT of the day was with Pamela Moore, a woman in her early thirties who was having problems with her ex-husband, Rick. According to the terms of their divorce settlement, Rick was supposed to pay just over eight hundred dollars a month in child support. He hadn’t done so for the past four months.
As she sipped her first coffee of the day, Sally thumbed through the Moore’s thick file. Ninety-nine percent of her clients were just that—people she was hired to represent. But Pam was different.
She’d first become aware of Pam’s difficult situation when she’d been volunteering her legal services at the Women’s Emergency Shelter. Pam had shown up with bruises distorting her facial features, but it didn’t take long for the two women to realize they knew each other.
They’d both grown up in Medicine Hat, a medium-size city about three hours southeast of Calgary. Pam’s family had been regulars at Sally’s parents’ café. On a couple of occasions, Sally had babysat for Pam and her two younger brothers.
So Pam wasn’t just a client, and while Sally fought hard for all her clients, for Pam she pulled out all the stops. She wanted the younger woman and her two children to have a future far better than what they’d experienced so far.
But Pam’s ex-husband seemed equally determined not to let that happen. He’d battled Pam on every step of her attempt to leave him and regain control of her life. Most inexcusable to Sally, throughout the entire struggle, he’d shown little interest in their children. And even less interest in contributing toward their financial support.
Rick’s main goal was winning Pam back. Twice he’d convinced her to try a reconciliation. On both occasions, Pam had ended up at the shelter with a few more bruises and an even more battered self-esteem.
Sally asked her why she kept giving him more chances.
“He’s the father of my children. And you don’t know the pressure he’s under. He runs his own business. He has to work so hard.”
Sometimes Sally was tempted to say, “I’m a businesswoman, too. I’m under a lot of pressure. But it would never occur to me to beat someone up because of it.” Of course, she never actually said this. Pam was smart enough to understand it wasn’t so much Sally, as herself, that she was trying to convince.
Eventually a late-night visit to Emergency to treat her broken arm had convinced Pamela to leave Rick for good. The divorce had been ugly. Despite a restraining order against him, Rick still found ways to inject misery into Pamela’s life.
Sally had just reviewed the last of the documentation in the file, when Evelyn at the front desk gave her a buzz.
“Pamela Moore to see you, Ms. Stowe.”
“Thanks. Tell her I’ll be right there.”
Though one of the younger partners at the firm, Sally had a coveted outer office with a mountain view. Early in her career she’d caught the attention of senior partner Gerald Thornton. “I like the way you think,” he’d told her. “More than that, I like the way you never give up.”
Gerald’s opinions carried a lot of weight, not only in the firm, but also in the legal community at large. It was through his connections that she’d wound up president of the Law Society of Alberta, a position that had enabled her to meet many of the province’s most influential high fliers.
Gerald was also behind the current push to get her into the Court of Queen’s Bench. As she passed by his big corner office, Sally remembered he was out of town on business this week. He’d asked her to cover in court for him later this afternoon.
In the reception area she found Pam perched on the edge of a chair, flipping through People. She tossed the magazine to the table and jumped to her feet when she saw Sally.
“I’m on a break,” she said. “I only have fifteen minutes.”
Sally had pulled strings to get Pam an office job at the courthouse, which unfortunately didn’t pay that much, but it was a start. Since black jeans were the dressiest item in Pam’s closet, she’d also given the young mother some suits she rarely wore and money for tailoring. Pam was wearing the green linen today.
“You look good, Pam.”
“I feel good. If only Rick—”
“I know. Come on, let’s talk.” Sally put a hand on her arm and ushered Pam to her office. When Pam was seated and the door closed, she quickly turned to business.
“What is Rick up to this time?” The fact that Rick owned his own business had made collecting child support a challenge from the beginning. They couldn’t request that his employer deduct the money straight from his salary, because he had no employer. Then he’d tried some accounting tricks—officially reducing his salary to a nominal amount while allowing funds to accumulate in the business.
Pam had gone to Maintenance Enforcement for help and they’d put a hold on his driving privileges in order to force him to meet his responsibilities to his children.
And now—
“The bastard sold his business. Just to spite me, I’m sure.”
“But how is he supporting himself?” Rick rented a posh condo in trendy downtown Eau Claire. And he had an extravagant lifestyle to go with it.
“He let the apartment go and moved in with his mother.”
“You’re kidding!”
“He says there’s no sense working when half his money goes to taxes and the rest to me.”
“As if. What is wrong with the man? He’s cramping his own lifestyle as well as yours.”
“When it comes to hurting me, Rick has always been willing to go that extra mile.”
“Surely he won’t keep this up for long. A man like Rick can’t be happy living with his mother. Not working.”
“He’s taking computer classes at SAIT. Claims he wants to open a new computer service business when he’s done. I can’t afford to wait him out, Sally. I’m behind on my own rent now. I could barely scrape together the money for Tabby’s antibiotics when she got an ear infection last week. I’ve asked my parents for help—again—but I can’t keep putting them in this situation.”
“I hear you, Pam.” But if Rick wasn’t working, he had no income. “What did he do with the proceeds of his business?”
“He wouldn’t tell me, but a mutual friend says he bought some land down by Pincher Creek. He isn’t renting it or anything, so there’s no income from that source, either.”
Land. Sally smiled. “We can register a support order against his property to create a lien.”
“What does that mean?”
“You need to contact Maintenance Enforcement again. They’ll file a writ against the land on your behalf. Unfortunately, that won’t put any cash in your pocket right now, but when he goes to sell—which he’ll undoubtedly want to do soon—he’ll have to pay you arrears plus interest.”
“Sally, I need money now. Or the kids and I are going to have to go back to the shelter.”
“Phone Maintenance Enforcement today. Hopefully just the threat of action will get Rick to pay. Besides, how much longer do you think he’ll be able to stand living with his mother?” Pam had told her before how the woman drove both her and Rick crazy with her nosy interference.
“I guess it’s worth a try.” Pamela glanced at her watch. “I should be getting back to work. The last thing I need right now is to lose my job.”
“Okay. Try not to worry. Rick’s not going to get away with this.” As Sally walked Pam to the elevators, she asked about the kids. Samuel was now five, Tabby three. Like most mothers, Pam’s face lit up as she talked about her children. She was smiling when they parted.
Back in her office, Sally found it more difficult to keep up her own good spirits. She was so tired of dealing with men like Rick. Didn’t he see that by lashing out at his former spouse he was hurting his own children?
If only he could be in the position of holding a crying child at night and not having the money to buy the medicine to make her better.
Or would he even care?
Weary already, though it was only ten o’clock, Sally picked up her pen and began to jot notes for the file. The phone rang before she was through the first sentence.
“Sally Stowe speaking.”
“Hi, Sal. Hard at work already, are you?”
It was Neil. Sally dropped her pen and ran her hand through her hair until she’d found the neat line of stitches at the side of her head. She traced the line back and forth with her index finger and contemplated hanging up without another word.
“How’s Lara?” he asked.
No mention of what had happened Friday night. She’d been half expecting an apology but wasn’t surprised he chose not to bring up the incident at all. Maybe he was embarrassed. She hoped so. “Lara’s fine. Gearing up for the big race next weekend.”
“I’ll be taking her to that,” he said.
It was Neil’s weekend with Lara coming up. “I know.” If she and Neil were able to get along better, she would have loved to watch the races, too. But Lara became anxious whenever she and Neil were in close proximity.
“Lara needs to be in top condition for the weekend,” Neil warned. “Feed her lots of meat—a good steak dinner or a roast beef. Not just those god-awful tofu stir-fries you like to eat.”
“I’ll make sure Lara has plenty of protein.” Sally rolled her eyes, though in truth she was comfortable with this, the negotiating of care for their daughter. She didn’t really mind Neil checking up on her this way, even though his concern was totally unnecessary. She was thankful that Neil was a good father. She could put up with his crap as long as he treated Lara right.
“And don’t let her stay up too late at night. She needs to be rested.”
“Of course.” Lord, Neil could be so overbearing.
Suddenly his voice switched from a lecturing tone to something soft and intimate. “Oh, and Sal?”
On guard, she said cautiously, “Yes?”
“How’s the new boyfriend?”
“What?” He’d caught her completely by surprise with this one.
“Don’t play innocent. I saw the SUV in your driveway on Saturday morning. It was still there until just before Lara got home.”
Neil had seen Colin’s vehicle? Sally felt suddenly ill to her stomach. How long had he been watching her house? Was this something he did often?
“This is none of your business, Neil.”
“Maybe not. Still, you ought to be careful. A judge has to be circumspect about the men she’s keeping company with. Especially a judge who hasn’t yet been officially appointed.”
The bastard was trying to threaten her. She remembered the last words he’d uttered on Friday night before he’d left her half-unconscious on the kitchen floor. He’d said he would make sure she was never appointed to the bench. He’d promised to see her disbarred instead.
Sally hung up the phone firmly. She wouldn’t let her ex play these mind games with her. He might be a very successful criminal lawyer with political connections of his own, but he couldn’t touch her. She’d done nothing wrong.
Even as she had that thought, she pictured Colin Foster reclined on the chair in her bedroom, watching her with a light in his eyes that she recognized all too well.
Had he realized how much she’d wanted to invite him into her bed with her?
Oh, Lord. How could she feel this way about the man who had been her best friend’s husband?
CHAPTER FOUR
SINCE BETH’S DEATH, Colin had started getting to work late. This was a direct corollary to his sleeping pattern, which involved tossing restlessly in bed until about four or five in the morning, at which time he would finally drop off, only to be awoken by his alarm a few hours later.
Inevitably, he hit the snooze button. Once, twice, a third time.
There was no warm body beside him to kick his shin. No cranky voice to say, “If you hit that thing one more time…”
As a teacher, Beth’s workday had started an hour later than his. A good thing, since she’d never been a morning person, while Colin loved the peace and quiet of dawn, the opportunity to savor the beginning of a day filled with possibilities. In an ideal world, he was the first to arrive at the office. He’d turn on the photocopier, start a pot of coffee, then sequester himself in his office to review the list of cases he would be prosecuting that day.
This Monday morning, however, was turning out far from ideal. After too many jabs of the snooze button, he rushed into the office only thirty minutes before he needed to be in court. Aware that his jacket was improperly buttoned and his jaw still bled from a rush job of shaving, he tried to hurry into the sanctuary of his office.
“Good morning, Mr. Foster.” The front-desk receptionist eyed him with an indulgent, if slightly worried, smile.
He ducked his head and aimed for the main corridor where he almost bowled over a prosecutor he’d worked with for years.
“Hi, Colin. Any chance you can make lunch tomorrow?”
“I’ll get back to you on that.” He nodded and picked up his pace. Only a couple more steps and he would be—
The articling student he’d hired last summer materialized in front of him. “I have a question about that file you left on my desk yesterday.”
He held up a hand, in a gesture that meant later, and finally slipped gratefully into his office. He closed the door, sighed then turned around.
Only to see one of the junior prosecutors waiting by the window. Judith Daigle had entered the law profession late, after a messy divorce at age thirty-three. She was now thirty-eight, a member of the bar and, since Beth’s death, unremittingly attentive.
“Good morning, Colin. Did you have a good weekend? I hope you enjoyed the casserole.”
Colin didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth—that he’d tossed it, and the aluminum pan it came in, straight into the garbage. Once, when he’d stopped by Judith’s house to drop off a writ, he’d seen a fat orange tabby—one of several of Judith’s cats—parading on her kitchen table. With that picture in his mind, he couldn’t bring himself to eat any of the meals she so thoughtfully prepared for him.
He wished he could think of some polite way to make her stop cooking for him.
“How was your weekend, Judith?” He slid behind his desk, aligned the buttons on his jacket, then tapped on his keyboard. Sixty-five unread messages in his e-mail in-box. God only knows how many he’d find in voice mail.
“My weekend was quiet.” Judith always gave the same answer when he asked that question.
Colin suspected she was looking to him to change the situation. As with the casseroles, he wished he could think of some polite way to make her stop.
“I thought you might want to review the Mueller case. As you suspected, he does have a record of similar offenses.”
“Is the record in his file?” Colin opened the top one in a pile on his desk.
“Yes, I—”
“That should be all I need, then.” He slipped on the reading glasses he had only just begun to need and focused on the papers in front of him, barely registering the moment when Judith left the room.