Home to Me

by Bybee, Catherine

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out.”

  She glanced at her phone for the time, 8:50. “Ugh.”

  “We have dinner at my parents’ at five thirty. Grace answered last night’s text this morning, said she’d be there.”

  He was making small talk.

  “What should I bring?”

  Matt’s eyes lit up. “Brownies.”

  “You’re going to turn into one of those at this rate.”

  He placed a hand to his chest. “I’m already too sweet, I should probably share.”

  As she started to laugh, her phone rang. They both looked at the phone while she answered. “Hello, Renee.”

  “Hi. How are you?”

  “Good.”

  “Did you like that watermelon cooler I told you about?”

  “Yes, I did. It was wonderful.”

  Matt glanced at her. “What is up with that?”

  “I take it your firefighter is still there,” Renee said.

  “I am.”

  “Good. I have a lot of news.”

  Matt reached out and grasped her hand in his. “We’re listening,” she said.

  “I spoke with Desmond’s attorney last night and again this morning. Last night he assured me Desmond was in Greece and went on to say that he is threatening legal action if you go forward with another unfounded restraining order.”

  “Someone tampered with my car.”

  “I might have suggested that Desmond might need to seek a criminal defense attorney that handles domestic violence and attempted murder.” Renee chuckled. “That shut him up.”

  “Only we don’t have proof it was Desmond.”

  “Right, but his counsel doesn’t know that. And I only tell him what he needs to know. Then this morning I received word that Schwarz filed a motion to withdraw from the case.”

  “What does that mean?” Erin asked.

  “It means Desmond’s attorney no longer wants to represent your husband in this divorce.”

  “Can he do that?” Matt asked.

  “He can try, but a judge has to sign off on it,” Renee explained. “Our clients can fire us without any fuss, but it’s a lot harder for us to fire our clients. Schwarz has to have grounds.”

  “Did he tell you what they were?”

  “What he quoted boils down to he and his client don’t agree on how to proceed with the divorce.”

  “Irreconcilable differences?” Matt asked.

  “Basically. I call bullshit. I think Schwarz suspects Desmond is up to something and he’s cutting his ties so he can’t be held accountable.”

  Erin’s head started to spin. “How can Schwarz be held accountable?”

  “Okay . . . let’s say you were accused of murder and you hired me to defend you. Then you told me, under attorney-client privilege, that you did in fact murder the son of a bitch and stuffed his own balls down his throat . . .”

  “Wow, Renee.”

  “Sorry. A girl can have her fantasies. Anyway. As your attorney I’m legally obligated to defend your innocence so long as that is your wish. I need to do everything in my power to represent you and have you acquitted of your crimes. But . . . if during a conversation you tell me you were going to cut off Desmond’s balls and feed them to him—”

  “You become an accessory to the crime,” Matt finished for her.

  “Exactly. So Schwarz motions to be removed from the case at the same time we’re threatening another protection order. You see where I’m headed here?”

  “Schwarz knows Desmond isn’t in Greece.” Erin looked at Matt. They had already concluded that. “We still don’t have proof he’s here. We showed his picture to the family last night. No one recognized him.”

  “I have more people to share his picture with today,” Matt told Renee. “My father’s a retired sheriff. We know a lot of people in the community.”

  “Perfect. I’ll start the process.”

  “Thank you.”

  Erin thought they were through, but Renee kept going. “And another new development.”

  “What?”

  “Your father called my office this morning.”

  “What?” Shock came in the form of a shout.

  “Yup. My assistant spoke with him. He said he knew I was your attorney and that he was flying to Seattle to meet with me.”

  Erin glanced at Matt and shook her head. “Why? When?”

  “Not sure why. When is in the morning. I don’t have to speak with him if you don’t want me to.”

  A swarm of emotions she couldn’t name washed over her. “He must want something. Desmond probably convinced him I’m sick or something. What was his latest . . . munch-something?”

  “Munchausen. And maybe. Or your father may have come to his senses. I’ve had many clients’ family members contact me once they adopt a new identity. Remorse, regret . . . lots of reasons. A dying family member. He’s flying in from Chicago instead of sending an e-mail. Which tells me he doesn’t want a paper trail for whatever he has to say. I suggest I take the meeting and report back to you. It can’t hurt.”

  “Okay. You’re the expert here.”

  “In the meantime, keep your head up. It sounds like you have a pretty good support system there. You didn’t have that the last time. Use it. I might have news by the end of the business day. If not, same time tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Renee.”

  When Erin hung up, she realized her focus was on one of the giant oak trees in the middle of the lawn. There was a steady hum in her veins without her heart beating a rapid tune in her chest.

  “You okay?” Matt asked.

  “My father always sided with Desmond. I’m sure he’s meeting Renee in person to try and threaten her with some kind of legal action or something.”

  “Don’t spend your time worrying about Renee. She seems like a smart woman. I particularly liked how she wants to feed your ex his balls.”

  Matt always made her laugh.

  “I’m pretty fond of that myself,” Erin added.

  “But I’m fairly certain they house male and female inmates in separate prisons . . . so let’s hand him his balls figuratively.”

  She dropped her head on his shoulder.

  “You can’t fucking quit. I will sue you. Have you disbarred.”

  “It’s a divorce case, Brandt. One where your soon-to-be ex-wife isn’t asking for half a house, alimony, or even pain and suffering. Which we both know she rightly deserves. My resigning as your counsel will hardly cause you any financial pain.”

  Desmond did not see this coming. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  “Of course not. I don’t foresee any reason for the court to not grant me leave of this case. So between now and trial I suggest you seek a new attorney. You’re going to need one.”

  He ran a hand over his beard. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Your wife’s attorney is moving forward with the protective order. I’m obligated to tell you that. Now that I have, I’m done. My final bill will be sent at the end of the week.”

  “Fuck you. Sue me for it.”

  “Okay.”

  Schwarz hung up and Desmond lost it. His phone went flying across the hotel room. It died a quick death and left him wanting something bigger to punch. The dive he’d checked into after Grace walked away was in the San Fernando Valley. The entire place was a pit. But he didn’t risk staying in Santa Clarita where the sheriff’s department had a close relationship with the Hudson family. That would have been a nice tidbit to know before he approached Grace in the first place.

  He realized now that had been a mistake.

  But he had this. A couple more days was all he needed.

  And new clothes.

  Wearing a suit in this town was attracting attention.

  He had all the doctors in place back home and an institution ready for his sick wife when they got there.

  Only now there was a need for some desperate measures.

  Yes . . .
sometimes you needed to take matters into your own hands to help the ones you love.

  Matt didn’t bother knocking on his parents’ front door. It was never expected and, frankly, frowned upon when he did.

  Erin had taken a few extra steps to look her best when they left her house. He knew that only because she put on three different outfits before settling on the very first one she had picked out. They stopped by his place, where he packed a bag with a few changes of clothes and some essentials for an extended stay. And since the Santa Ana winds were forecast over the next few days, he brought a uniform with him as well. He may have managed to switch one of his shifts, but if a wildfire got going, he’d be forced to report. Besides, after speaking with his parents, and especially his father, they’d have to come up with a better game plan than Matt sticking by Erin’s side one hundred percent of the time.

  Erin straightened the edges of the summer dress she picked out and ran a hand over her hair as they walked in the door.

  “You look like a breath of sunshine,” he told her.

  With the batch of brownies she’d cooked up in one hand, and her hand in the other, Matt walked them down the short hall to the open family room and kitchen in the back. “Hello?” he called out.

  “We’re out here,” his mother yelled from beyond the sliding glass doors leading to the back yard.

  Outside, his dad stood in front of the barbeque, and his mother and Grace were sitting under the shade of an umbrella covering the patio furniture.

  Grace bounced up and hugged Erin before moving to him. “Sorry I couldn’t make it last night,” she said with a grunt.

  “How was your date?” Erin asked.

  “A complete disaster.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “It started out fine. We had a great dinner, decent conversation. As it was ending he informed me that he’s married.”

  “Isn’t that a question you ask before the date?” their dad asked from his perch.

  “We covered the subject and, news flash . . . he lied to me. Story of my life.”

  Erin draped an arm around her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  Matt moved to the barbeque beside his father and looked down at the grill. “Don’t get too excited. It’s only chicken. Doctor says my cholesterol is high and your mother put me on a diet.”

  “It isn’t like you miss many meals, Dad.”

  “Wait until you’re my age and not running around chasing fires. You’ll have a dad belly, too.” Emmitt patted his stomach. “This is your future, hotshot.”

  Matt looked over his shoulder and saw Erin laughing at something his sister was saying. “If my future involves a woman who loves me enough to make me diet so she can keep me around for a few more years, surrounded by my family . . . I’ll take the spare tire that goes with it.”

  His dad lowered his voice. “I like this one, Matt. She’s good for you.”

  “I’m falling pretty fast.”

  “The feeling mutual?”

  Matt nodded. “But it’s a little complicated.”

  “How so?”

  “That’s why we’re here. There’s something we need to talk to you guys about. Get some advice.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  Matt nodded. “It is.”

  Twenty minutes later the chicken was off the grill and a summer salad with corn on the cob was dished up.

  Halfway through the meal, Matt noticed Erin stop eating. He knew the pending conversation was weighing on her and she wanted it behind them. So instead of waiting for Erin to broach the subject, Matt took a shot at covering the details.

  “You’re probably wondering why we asked for an unplanned family gathering,” Matt said.

  “I never need an excuse to spend time with my children,” Nora said.

  “I know, Mom. But we could use some advice, and more importantly, we want you to be aware of a situation that has come up.”

  For the next ten minutes Matt regurgitated the conversation he’d had a few times in the last couple of days. First when learning of Erin’s past. Then when speaking with her attorney as things unfolded, and then again the night before when they’d talked to Colin, Parker, and her family.

  One by one, each of his family members stopped eating and sat back in their chairs to take it all in.

  On his father’s jaw, a nerve started to shoot against the right corner of his lip. Matt always thought of it as a warning light to his father’s anger level. It would twitch, like a tic that someone can’t control, until it finally blew.

  “So this man is responsible for the accident,” Emmitt concluded once Matt finished the whole soap opera story.

  “That’s what we believe.”

  “When would he have cut the lines? While we were dress shopping?” Grace asked.

  “The garage was compact and dark, so . . . ,” Erin said.

  “Have you filed a police report yet?” Dad asked.

  “We have the accident report. The second Erin identifies Desmond as a possible suspect, he will be privy to her new name and location. So we’re waiting on her attorney or evidence that he has been anywhere in town. There are a couple of things boiling.”

  “Like?” Grace asked.

  Erin spoke up. “Desmond’s attorney quit. My attorney has filed a second emergency restraining order.”

  “Sounds like this man is losing his team,” Emmitt said.

  “He has money. He’ll hire a new one.”

  Matt watched as his father stood and started to pace. “What’s his motivation? He can always find another woman to hit. Men like him seem to attract the weak.” He looked up. “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Erin said with a brave face. But Matt knew his father’s observation clashed hard.

  “He’s delayed the divorce . . . why? Are you asking for a hefty check every month?” His dad kept firing off questions.

  “No. I walked away. I don’t want his money.”

  “What about him . . . is he asking something from you?”

  Erin sat forward shaking her head. “He hasn’t asked for anything. But according to my attorney, she recently found that in the discovery, the stock in Desmond’s business that my father gifted us is in both our names. She thinks Desmond is setting me up to have to give him my shares.”

  “What are we talking?” Grace asked.

  Matt looked at his sister. “It’s a billion dollar company.”

  “There you go!” Emmitt sat back down. “Money is a powerful motivator. Follow the money and you’ll find the criminal.”

  “So that’s a good thing?”

  Emmitt shook his head. “Not in my experience. Crimes of passion are something only you two would have to worry about. He’d come after you since you’re with Erin. And he’d come after Erin to keep her to himself. When money is the driving force, he’s going to do whatever he needs to make it good for him. Which is why the brakes on the car. He doesn’t care who he hurts to get to you,” Emmitt said, pointing at Erin. “If you own stock in his company and he’s afraid of losing it in the divorce, the only way to keep it is for him to inherit it upon your death . . . or somehow deem you psychologically unfit.”

  Matt exchanged glances with Erin. “Munchausen,” he muttered.

  “Excuse me?” Nora asked.

  Erin shook her head. “Why didn’t I see this before? He’s been building this up for years.”

  “Erin’s attorney explained that Desmond has argued Erin has Munchausen syndrome. Which is a disorder . . . or mental illness, that makes people pretend to have an illness or even hurt themselves for the attention someone gets when ill.” Matt grasped Erin’s hand and squeezed. “He will try and prove that you cut the brake lines.”

  “I don’t even know where they are,” Erin said.

  “This man sounds crazy,” Nora said.

  Emmitt patted his wife’s hand. “Crazy, but not stupid. All he has to do is convince one psychiatric doctor that Erin is a threat to herself, she says one th
ing in a way that can be spun to support the man, and she’s put on a seventy-two-hour hold. Then it’s all about proving you’re not. And the more you yell you’re not, the more they think you are.”

  “Or pay a doctor off,” Erin said.

  “Damn . . . and I thought I was having a hard week. I’m so sorry, Erin,” Grace offered.

  All that settled in, and everyone sat quietly. Finally Matt asked, “What do we do, Dad?”

  “The man cut the brakes . . . or hired someone to do it for him. He’s already crossed the line. We circulate his picture to my friends and yours. We let the family know to be on the lookout. I don’t care what your attorney says; you get down to the station and file a report. Offense and defense. Who has the power?”

  “The one punching first,” Matt said.

  His dad pointed at him. “Right.”

  Matt felt better knowing they had a direction and a plan. Much as he wanted to trust Renee, he trusted his father more.

  “So what does this asswipe look like?” Grace asked.

  Erin removed her phone from her purse and started scrolling.

  “Try not to worry, son. It clouds your head. We’ll get you both through this.” His dad reached over and patted him on the back.

  “Here he is.” Erin handed the phone to Grace.

  Grace expanded the image and made a choking sound in the back of her throat. Color drained from her face, and she jumped to her feet and ran inside.

  “Gracie?”

  Matt hurried behind her with the rest of the family on his heels.

  Grace ran straight to the nearest bathroom and lost her dinner.

  “I hope that wasn’t my chicken,” Emmitt said, turning away.

  Erin moved behind Grace and held her hair back while Nora turned on the faucet and dampened a washcloth.

  “Oh, God.”

  Matt was about to walk away.

  “Desmond was my date last night.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Growing up in a home where your mother disappeared before you reached a double-digit birthday, and your father tolerated your existence by hiring nannies and sending you to camp in the summer, Erin’s sense of family was grossly distorted. Now she sat in a conference room at the police station across from one detective and one uniformed officer that was a friend of Matt’s. Mr. and Mrs. Hudson sat by her side along with Matt and Grace. The sheer support and understanding from this family rendered her speechless. If this had been her family all these years, she wouldn’t have stuck around after the first hit. And chances were, Desmond eating his balls would have been a harsh reality.