“Did she?”
“Nope. She had her number changed, blocked my email and unfriended me, too.”
“Even though she communicated with you in secret for all those years?”
“Because Tanner didn’t know then. She wasn’t really crossing him until he knew and I’m sure he expressly forbade it. You have no idea how convincing my brother can be.”
“Is that when you found out she was a stripper?”
“No. Talia told me what she was doing. That’s why she couldn’t petition for custody and let me come live with her. Because child services would never have approved her for my guardian. She wanted me to know she wasn’t ditching me. That she loved me and would take me if she could.”
It seemed to Sedona that Tatum had tried to look at other avenues to make a good life for herself. To fix her problem.
Without success.
That was going to change.
Tanner Malone wasn’t just dealing with a fifteen-year-old girl anymore. He had Sedona Campbell to contend with now.
For better or worse.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TANNER WAS OUT in the furniture barn, looking under an old claw-foot couch that Tatum had wanted to move into the living room. She couldn’t possibly fit under it, but—because he was out of his mind with worry—he had to look everywhere. He hit his head when his cell phone rang. It was Detective Morris.
“The boyfriend repeated that she messaged him this morning. And as he told you, she said she loved him. He also admitted, when we told him we could trace deleted Facebook posts, that she told him she was leaving but wouldn’t tell him where she was going so he wouldn’t get in trouble.”
His heart sped up. And dropped. Tatum had left? Without taking any of her things? Where could she have been going? Harcourt had to have made some provisions for her, given her someplace to hang out....
“We know she got on a bus.” Morris’s voice was all business. And Tanner’s heart rate escalated again. “Heading toward Santa Raquel beach. We’ve spoken with the driver. He told us where she got off.” The detective named an intersection he could place, but wasn’t all that familiar with. It was easily twenty miles from the vineyard that was situated halfway between Santa Raquel and Santa Barbara. “Do you have any idea why she’d get off there? Is there someone she knows in the area? Someplace you used to go?”
“No. I... We’ve never been there. I have no idea....”
He tried to remember, forcing his throbbing head to work overtime. Had Tatum attended a birthday party in Santa Raquel, maybe?
“She loves to go to the beach,” he said, for lack of any better ideas.
And there were a handful of them a hell of a lot closer than Santa Raquel. Besides, Tatum knew better than to go to the beach alone.
“We’ve got officers canvassing the area,” Morris told him. “Someone has to have seen her.”
He was beginning to think more clearly. He headed to the truck, about to get to know that unfamiliar neighborhood really well. “Was she alone?”
“As far as we can tell. The driver said she was the only person to board the bus about a mile from your place.”
He knew the stop. Little more than a bench on a country corner. How in the hell had Tatum gotten there?
Harcourt. He had to have taken her. Had to know where she was.
“He said there was an older woman who got off when she did, but they didn’t seem to know each other and went in opposite directions. She didn’t fit the description of a druggie or a homeless person and he didn’t recognize her from the picture you had of your mother.”
Tatum didn’t know any other older women that he was aware of. “Harcourt’s got to be meeting her later tonight. When he can get away without anyone noticing.”
“We’ve spoken with his parents. He won’t be getting out of their sight tonight.”
“So if she’s waiting for him someplace, she’s going to be alone in the dark.” He wasn’t sure which was worse, Tatum alone with Harcourt all night or out by herself.
Or with Tammy.
He feared that the lesser of two evils was the young man he’d banned her from seeing.
In his truck, driving toward the main road, Tanner said, “Can we call them and have them give him his freedom? Just in case. He could lead us to her.”
“I’ll give them a call,” Morris said, not sounding happy about the prospect. “But if they don’t want their son used as bait, I can’t blame them.”
Tanner could, though. If not for their corrupt son, Tatum and Tanner would still be okay, sitting at home, ignoring each other.
Ringing off, he pushed the pedal to the floor, determined to make twenty miles in fewer minutes than that.
* * *
“WE’RE GOING TO have to let the police know where you are.” Sedona needed a lot more answers. And had no more time. “They’re wasting valuable dollars searching for you.”
The eyes that looked over at her were filled with fear. And resignation, as well. It was a look far too mature for a fifteen-year-old girl to be wearing. “They’re going to send me home with Tanner,” she said, without a hint of a whine. “This will all be for nothing.”
“If Tanner’s hitting you I can ask for an emergency order to have you kept away from him, at least until the state has time to investigate your allegations.”
“I told you, I’m not going to report him to the police.”
A response that wasn’t all that unusual in domestic situations where the abused also loved their abusers.
“You’re a minor, Tatum. And you told me about it. I’m legally obligated to report it.”
“I’ll just deny having told you. Or I’ll say I lied. I thought this was a safe place. Where I could come and just tell someone here and have a place to stay until I can get settled on my own.”
“You’re fifteen. You not only have to finish high school, but you’re under your brother’s guardianship. He’s legally responsible for you.”
“I’m not reporting him.” Tatum crossed her arms, her face set.
“Why not? If he’s hurting you, he needs help, Tatum.”
Her gaze darting around the subtly lit garden, Tatum straightened, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder. “It’ll be my word against his,” she said. “I don’t have any proof. It’s not like I took pictures. Or even told anyone. They’re going to think I’m just a fifteen-year-old kid who’s mad at him because he won’t let me be with my boyfriend.”
Sedona couldn’t deny the possibility. She’d already thought of it and had to be straight with her client. Even though, technically, Tatum couldn’t be her client without her brother’s, or the court’s, approval.
“Is that what’s happening here?”
“No!” Tatum’s eyes widened and she faced Sedona squarely. “I’m pissed at him about Del, yes, but I’m not just a spoiled kid who can’t take no for an answer. I’m here to find answers.”
“What kind of answers?”
Tatum sat back. “You know, about what someone does when they’re a victim of domestic violence.”
Tatum could be playing them. She could just be saying the right words. And if she was, she’d be caught out. If she wasn’t, and they sent her home...
Sedona couldn’t take a chance on sending this young girl back to get beat up on again. Statistics showed that domestic violence issues in the home escalated from incident to incident. The next time Tatum might not just get off with a few bruises.
“I have another suggestion,” she said, believing that, under the circumstances, it was the best option for the moment.
“What?”
“I can try to talk your brother, to let him know that you aren’t missing and haven’t run away so that he can alert the police to drop their search. And then as
k him if he’d be willing to let you stay here—even if it’s just for a day or two, until we get this settled.”
“It’ll take a lot more than a day or two for anything to get settled with Tanner. More like a lifetime.”
“Either way, we’re out of time,” Sedona said, aware that Lila would be pacing her office, looking at the clock.
They could only pretend not to see the news bulletins for so long.
“What’ll happen to me tonight if I tell the cops that Tanner hit me? Which I’m not going to do. I already told you that. But what would happen to me if I did?”
“I can’t say for sure. I can probably arrange to have you spend the night here tonight. But they might come for you in the morning. And then it will be largely up to the court. They’ll assign a caseworker to you. And investigate the situation.”
They could send her home as early as that night, too. Or the next day. Based on the lack of evidence or witnesses—and if no domestic violence reports had ever been filed for Tanner Malone, and there were no medical records of abuse and no problems reported by Tatum’s school, and if Tatum said she lied, they probably would send her home. And just keep an eye on things.
Which, as Sedona knew all too well, so often meant wait until the abuse happened again....
She could contact Talia. See if she could get testimony out of the older sister regarding previous abuse. But again, with no corroborating evidence, and considering Talia’s current situation and previous history with her brother, her testimony wouldn’t be all that credible. The court could go either way. Unless reports had been filed in the past.
“Even if I talk to Tanner, whether he lets you stay here or insists on taking you home, I’m going to have to report the abuse to the police, whether you want to do so or not.”
A caseworker would be assigned. Tatum would most likely still be sent home because, as the teenager said, she could just be a truculent child lashing out for having her boyfriend privileges removed.
There would almost surely have to be another abusive incident before anything more could be done.
“What’s your choice?” she asked Tatum, standing up in the dimly lit garden. “The police have to be notified that you’re safe, Tatum, one way or the other. Do you want me to call your brother or not?”
It felt cruel, to be putting such a choice to a child who’d turned to them for help. But it was the best she could do. Short of putting the girl in her car and running with her.
Standing, her chin low and shoulders sagging, Tatum gave Sedona Tanner Malone’s cell phone number.
* * *
“WHERE’S MY SISTER?” Tanner approached the woman with the thick blond hair sitting at the corner table in an upscale sandwich shop not far from the corner where Detective Morris had told him Tatum had exited the bus.
Sedona Campbell, she’d said her name was. And that she’d be wearing navy pants and a jacket with a cream-colored blouse.
“She’s fine,” the thirtyish woman said. “She’s with a couple of friends of mine,” she said. “Female friends.”
“Who are you?”
Reaching into her pocket the woman pulled out a business card and placed it on the table.
Sedona Campbell, Attorney at Law
He read the name of her firm, but didn’t take it in. His heart racing, Tanner stood there, trying to slow his mind, to calm the panic.
He was thirty-three, not twenty. He owned a home, a business.
And he was losing control of his baby sister. Cold sweats swept over him. Through him.
“What does she want?” If their mother thought she was going to ride back into their lives and sweep her baby away, she was wrong.
No matter how vulnerable a girl Tatum’s age might be to her mother’s false promises of newfound sobriety. Tanner, Talia and Thomas had heard them all too many times. But Tatum...she’d only been five when she’d last heard from Tammy.
“Have a seat, Mr. Malone.”
Because he was feeling a bit sick, Tanner did as she asked. He’d be fine. He knew the signs of post-stress-induced anxiety. And knew how to overcome them, as well.
The law was on his side. He had to remember that.
“Tell me how much she wants.”
The woman’s creamy white brow furrowed. Who had creamy white skin in California? “I’m sorry?”
“You’re a family lawyer,” he explained slowly. If this lawyer wanted to play games she’d soon find she’d come to the wrong man. He knew all his mother’s tricks. Eventually, he’d grown immune to every one of them.
“That’s right.”
“The only times my family has ever needed a lawyer have been when our mother deigns to make an appearance in our lives.” That was true even before she’d left them for good and given him custody. He’d had to quit school to protect the kids from her—and the court system. Not that anyone needed to know... “Tell me, what’s Tammy said or done to get to Tatum and how much does she want?”
“I don’t know your mother. Or anyone named Tammy.”
Leaning back in his chair Tanner feigned a nonchalance he didn’t feel. He’d learned early on that if he showed a woman weakness she’d use it to wipe her feet. Spreading his hands and then steepling his fingers, he said, “So whatever she’s calling herself this time, how much does she think it’s going to cost her to provide the life my sister needs?”
Because Tammy would never admit the money was for herself. To feed her habits. No, she’d blink those big blue eyes and swear that it was for her children.
She’d tried a few times over the past ten years to extort money from them—from him. Playing on his love for his siblings. But it had been a while since he’d heard from her. Three years. He’d looked it up as soon as Morris had left.The longest she’d ever gone.
Sedona Campbell flicked a strand of really long hair behind her shoulder. A move that accentuated her femininity. And worried him. “Let me get this clear,” she said. “You think someone has your sister?”
It was like a game of chess. He not only had to plan his moves a minimum of three in advance, he had to assess his opponent, to predict what she was thinking and, more important, to ascertain her next moves before making his own.
“Tatum’s a good girl,” he said. “A straight-A student who loves to read. She has an appreciation for antiques and nurtures hurt animals anytime she can sneak one in. She also has no problem speaking her mind. She is not the type of person who would just up and leave on her own.”
“Especially since you’ve made her a virtual prisoner out there on that vineyard of yours.”
“That’s what Tammy told you?”
Ms. Campbell looked at the table. Seeing a chessboard of her own? After a couple of seconds, she glanced back at him. “Let’s get one thing clear, sir. I’ve never met your mother, or anyone else who knows your sister. I am here on Tatum’s behalf. Period.”
A vise descended upon his chest. And he was sweating again. From the inside out. “You want me to believe that my little sister hired a lawyer?”
“Technically she can’t do that without your signature.”
Right. Okay. But... “She sought one out, though?”
“She came to us for help.”
His feet landed flat with a thud as he sat forward and put his arms on the table. “Who is us? Why does Tatum need a lawyer? Where is she?”
He was back to Del Harcourt. This was about that punk kid like he’d originally thought.
But he had the senior Harcourt in his corner. And he’d put his money on the mother standing by whatever Ken Harcourt dictated.
Not that that was necessarily a healthy thing, but it would serve his situation. And theirs was none of his business.
“Your sister is at a women’s shelter.”
Oh, God, no. “Is
she all right? Is she hurt?”
“Physically she’s fine. But women, and more particularly teenage girls, don’t turn up at shelters just for fun.”
“The bastard hit her again?”
“You’re saying you didn’t do it?”
Breathe, man. In and out. Relax your chest and breathe. “I didn’t do what?”
“Hit your sister.”
Everything inside Tanner stilled in that moment. His heart. His soul. “Is she saying I did?”
Tatum was pissed at him. But she wouldn’t turn on him. They were tight. More so than the other two. Since the day she was born she’d been his little girl. More daughter than sister. There had to be a misunderstanding. Someone at that shelter, this lawyer perhaps, had listened wrong.
“Are you denying that you hit your sister, Mr. Malone?”
“Hell, yes, I’m denying it!”
“But you knew she’d been hit?” The woman didn’t believe him. Her disdainful tone was enough to tell him that, but the cool look in her eyes was a dead giveaway, too.
“I didn’t know. I suspected. When I asked her about it, she adamantly denied it. She looked me in the eye.”
“And that means something?”
“Tatum has lied to me before, but never while looking me in the eye.”
People milled around them, talking over coffee drinks and eating freshly baked cookies. Scattered about at various tables. Some had computers. Tablets. It was a gathering place.
And it was like Tanner wasn’t even there. He had no sense of reality. No way to wake himself from the nightmare.
“But you saw signs that she’d been hurt? Bruises, perhaps, that she explained away?”
“I grabbed her arm out in the barn when she was trying to run after Harcourt. She flinched. I made her roll up her sleeve. The bruise was faded to yellow, but I was sure I saw the imprint of knuckles. She told me I was crazy. That I see the worst in everything. She said she ran into an antique dresser spindle in the barn.”
Once a Family Page 6
