“They’ll show you unbecoming, you sicko.”
“Annabel, I don’t care for your tone.”
“You won’t care for anything when my mother gets her hands on you. Now let me out of here!”
He looked down at her with genuine sadness. “That, I am afraid, I cannot do. My plans for you are not complete. But when they are, you will be released.”
“And I’ll be free to go?”
He hesitated only a moment. “You’ll be free.”
“What are these plans?”
“You’ll see.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“Nothing improper, I assure you.”
“Then why did you take my clothes off?”
“Did you think I had no legitimate purpose? That I did all this for my personal delectation?” He touched her sternum experimentally with his finger, then drew a long, slow line down her breast bone. He used his most mellifluous voice, hoping to calm her. “You can’t appreciate what I’m doing, but it is for your own benefit, to help you fulfill your destiny, to complete your spiritual efflorescence. It was necessary.”
“Necessary for what? For you to get your rocks off?”
He twitched. “You know, my dear, my plan does not require me to advance to the next step until tomorrow. But under the circumstances, I think mayhap it’s best that we proceed immediately.”
“What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
He set down the brown bag he had brought in with him. “Allow me to prepare my tools. Then all will be made clear.”
“What’s that? What is it?” Panic set in. Her voice quavered. She was no longer shouting, no longer demanding. She was scared.
He opened the bag wide and held it before her so she could see the scalpel, clamp, wedge, prong, and drill. “These are my dentistry tools.”
“W-W-What are you going to do with those?”
“I’m afraid you are due for an oral examination, darling.”
Her eyes grew wide and watery. “Are you-are you going to hurt me very much?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I am. I can’t deaden this pain-not without making you unconscious. And you need to be awake as long as possible. So you can appreciate what is happening to you.”
Her face caved, as the horror of her situation became clear. “P-P-Please don’t do this. I’m going to be married. I’m going to have a baby.”
“I don’t think so.” He leaned forward, the metal clamp and wedge reflecting light into her eyes. “Open wide.”
5
The lawyer sat on the other side of his desk, wearing a three-piece suit with a watch chain dangling from his vest pocket. His expression was so earnest it made me want to barf.
“You must understand, Susan. There are many competing factors involved here.”
“What’s so complicated? I’m her only living relative.”
“Granted. But there are complications.”
“I’ve been raising Rachel for three years without any problems.”
His head swayed. “Well…”
“Certainly nothing major. And then I get sick for a week and they steal her away and stick her in a foster home.”
He took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “I don’t want to make you angry, Susan. But if we’re going to get anywhere, we have to be realistic. You did not get sick. You were committed to a detox clinic. Because you are an alcoholic.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“That’s the position of the state, at any rate. And NDHS is not going to allow an alcoholic to retain sole custody or guardianship of a minor without a fight.”
“NDHS needs to mind its own business.”
“This is its business.”
Jerk. Of course, like any good cop, I’d been trained to despise lawyers, so having to go to one for help was excruciating. I’d used this guy, Quentin Delacourt, a few times after David died, for wills and estates stuff that I never really understood. But he didn’t know me. And I didn’t much care for having him make these blanket proclamations about who and what I was.
“I’m not going to sit here defending myself to my own attorney,” I said. “Will you take the case or not?”
“That depends on what you mean.”
“I mean getting my niece back.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He leaned back in his burgundy leather chair, adopting what he undoubtedly thought was a deep, contemplative pose. “There’s no rush. Maybe you should give yourself some time.”
“I gave myself a week. Look what happened.”
“Give yourself a month. Just to relax. No stress, no work. And no alcohol, of course. Give your body a chance to recover. I don’t think you’ve taken any time to get your head together since-”
“I’m not wealthy, Mr. Delacourt. I don’t have the luxury of indulging myself in some spiritual walkabout. I want my niece back-now. I want you to file a motion or whatever it takes to get her yanked out of that hideous foster home.”
He opened a file on his desk and thumbed through it. “From what I can see, the Shepherds’ home is far from hideous. Apparently they have taken in many minors from-um-difficult situations.”
“Rachel was perfectly happy with me. And she hates it where she is.”
“That’s to be expected, at least at first.”
“So will you bring the motion or not? I want a hearing.”
He gave me the contemplative look again, this time even steepling his fingers for added effect. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, then I’m honor-bound to get it for you. But I can’t say that I’m optimistic about your chances. NDHS wouldn’t have intervened unless they thought they had due cause. They’ve really papered this file.”
He was starting to piss me off, big time. “How much mileage can they get out of one stupid mistake?”
“It goes way beyond that.” He continued thumbing through the file, not making eye contact with me. “You’re currently unemployed.”
“I’m going to fix that.”
“I won’t lie to you, Susan. As long as you’re unemployed, there’s no way you’re going to get custody.”
“I told you, I’m going to fix that.”