“Good morning,” she greeted us, smiling. “Now, the both of you look so handsome. Tylar, that suit was such a good choice, honey. I’m glad you selected that one instead of the grey one. I just think the grey one hid too much of your youthful build.”
Trey chuckled, gazing at my legs appreciatively and the outline of my butt beneath the black skirt. It was Chanel, but I appeased myself with the fact that it was a basic black suit with classic lines that could be worn for a few years.
“Thank you, Susan. I’m glad you talked me into this one, as well. Has Preston had a bottle yet?”
“She was up with the chickens this morning. Grandma fed her around 6:30. She has plenty of bottles left for the day if you’re worried,” she said. Susan placed Trey’s breakfast plate in front of him. I reached over, taking the baby from him so that he could eat.
“I’m going to nurse her for just a few minutes, Susan, why don’t you go ahead and sit down and eat with Trey?”
“Okay, honey,” she said. “I’ll keep your plate warm.”
I took Preston into the living room, unbuttoning my jacket and pulling the silk camisole down to allow her access. She dropped the rubber rattle to the floor. I positioned her comfortably in the crook of my arm so I could watch her while she nursed. She locked her blue eyes on my face and watched me intently. I smiled down at her as I traced a finger along her soft cheek getting a smile from her.
“Mommy's going to miss you today, sweet girl,” I said softly to her. “Grandma will take very good care of you, okay? Daddy and Mommy will be home later and we'll all play together before bedtime. Just like last night, okay sweet baby? Mommy loves you more than anything, Preston.”
She grinned up at me then returned to her gentle sucking. I loved her so much. She'd be five months old in less than a week. Susan had been with us for nearly six weeks. That must've been difficult for both her and Clive. I'd hate to be apart from Trey that long.
A lot of changes had taken place in the past six weeks. I'd put further counseling sessions on hold with Karla since I was starting back to work. All in all, Karla was pleased with our sessions and the marked improvement in my emotional health.
Trey joined us a few minutes later, reaching down to take the baby so that I could eat breakfast. I kissed her cheek and buttoned myself back up. Trey distracted her from fussing about the interruption by getting some of her other toys from the playpen and having her reach for them while she sat on his lap.
Susan was cleaning up their breakfast dishes and updated me on two candidates that were coming by for an interview today. We'd seen three candidates the previous week from the agency that, for one reason or another, hadn't panned out. The agency was sending more candidates this week and we were hopeful they'd have more applicable skill sets.
The first candidate was scheduled for 10:30 a.m. and the second one was scheduled for 3:00 p.m. this afternoon. We'd decided that since I was returning to work this week, Susan would do the initial interview screening at two a day for a total of eight candidates. She'd then narrow it down to three candidates for Trey and I to interview on Saturday. She was leaving Sunday to return to Bristol.
“Do you want me to call you on your lunch hour to let you know about the first interview this morning, Tylar?”
“That'd be great, Susan.”
“The first interview is with a young girl named Julie who came recommended by the family in the apartment on the second floor. I met her when I was getting the mail.”
“Yes, I remember you saying that,” I replied. “Who's the second applicant?"
“That’s the retired nurse. Let’s see, I have her resume here on the counter somewhere. Her name is Sheila Bradley. Listen to this—she worked more than twenty years as a nurse in obstetrics for North Bay hospital. She's retired and misses working around babies…that sounds promising.”
I recalled reading through the resumes and seeing the one for Sheila Bradley. It struck me odd that she would have retired if she now missed working around babies enough to want a job as a babysitter. Nurses could always go back on the circuit, I would have thought.
“Anyway, I have the list of questions that you and Trey put together along with some of my own,” Susan continued. “We'll make this a very thorough process, I guarantee you.”
“I’m still going to miss you, Mom,” I replied, looking up at her.
Her eyes teared up a bit as she came over and put her hands on my shoulders patting them. “I know, sweet girl, I'll miss you, too. It won’t be for long, though. We expect you, Trey and the baby for Thanksgiving. Clive will be totally mended by then.”
Thanksgiving was only eight weeks away. It was hard to believe all that had happened since last Thanksgiving. I was only working for the next six weeks, so I'd have a couple of weeks as a breather before we started preparations for the holidays. It'd be Preston’s first Christmas. Trey and I were excited about that. I knew Trey was worried about his dad. We'd assured Susan that we'd fly to Bristol if she needed us there. She was adamant that everything would be fine.
My first work day back at the firm was spent getting updated on everything that Leah had going over in Mr. Harmon’s area. We reviewed the current caseload, statuses, court calendar, deposition schedule and meeting notices. By lunchtime, it seemed as if I hadn’t been gone for any length of time at all.
I was eating lunch in the break room when my cell phone vibrated. It was Susan. She told me that everything had gone quite well with Julie’s interview. She'd taken detailed notes of Julie’s answers to the questions. Susan said she'd also made sure to observe the interaction between Julie and the baby. She'd been impressed with Julie and definitely felt like she'd make a finalist for this position.
We talked for a little bit longer. I asked how Preston was doing and Susan said she was napping now but due to wake up soon. Susan wanted to make sure she was awake when Nurse Bradley got there for her interview this afternoon. I told her Trey and I would try and make it home by five-thirty.
The afternoon sped by as Leah and I continued to put together an activity calendar covering important dates on Harmon’s cases to ensure nothing slipped through the cracks. I was entering the data into the database calendar which would also tie into whatever filings needed to be filed by statutory guidelines. I came across a Motion for Oral Argument that was coded as ‘MDL-JPML.’ It was scheduled in a few weeks at the 5th Circuit Court in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
“What does this mean, Leah?” I asked, showing her the printout.
“MDL,” she said, looking over my shoulder. “That’s multidistrict litigation. That’s actually one of Harmon’s and Sinclair’s class action cases under mass torts. You remember that case that was going on when you had the baby?”
I nodded remembering Gina going on about it on the phone with Ian while I was in labor at the hospital. Who could forget the bizarre questions of fact on that one?
“Well, it was only at the preliminary hearing stage back then. Apparently the case is complex and has morphed into a mass tort situation involving plaintiffs in different federal court districts. So the firm filed a Motion to centralize the case under one federal court to expedite the process. Harmon or Sinclair will give an oral argument in Baton Rouge on that date in front of the Judicial Panel on Multidistrict Litigation to see if they'll rule to grant the motion.”
I nodded as if I understood everything she'd explained, but I really didn’t. I'd ask Trey more about it later. Leah was continuing to explain in more detail about the JPML and the federal judges that comprised the panel when I stopped entering the data into my computer. I was struck by the name of one of the panel members on the JPML—it was listed as Judge Preston James Tylar. I scanned his Curriculum Vitae.
He was a federal judge appointed by the president to the 5th Circuit Court back in 1990, the same year I'd been born. I wasn’t sure of the significance of that, but in conjunction with the similarity of our names, it'd given me pause for a moment. Preston James Tylar. Tylar Jamie Pr
eston. Weird.
“Are you okay, Tylar?” Leah was watching me from her desk, a look of concern on her face.
“Oh, yeah – sorry, Leah,” I said smiling over at her. “It’s nothing. I just got a little caught up with one of the judge’s names."
Thankfully, my cell phone beeped indicating I had a text message so I didn’t have to explain anything further to Leah. It was Trey.
How's your day going? I haven’t had the pleasure of even seeing you in passing! Tell Leah you need a break—meet me in Conference Room 3E
I flushed and smiled. He could be so wicked…
“Leah,” I said, “I have to run to the restroom and then over to Central Filing for a few minutes."
“Okay; I've got you covered."
I gathered up a few file folders to make it look like I was about firm business and headed through the maze over to the other side of the building to the east conference room. It was located in a rarely used area of the building and this particular conference room was only used when there was an over-booking issue with the others.
I got to the doorway without being seen and slipped into the conference room. It was dark. Shit, he was probably just kidding. How stupid did I look? I turned to go back out into the deserted hallway when I felt his hands on me, pulling me back against him. His warm breath was on my neck as he whispered.
“Where do you think you're going?”
He moved in front of me quietly, closing the door to the conference room and locking it. He flicked on the track lighting, taking the folders I'd brought with me and tossing them onto the conference room table. He turned back to me pulling me against him as he lowered his head and his lips found mine. We kissed as if we hadn’t seen each other in weeks instead of just a few hours. His hands slid up under my skirt and his fingers moved my panties aside as they expertly plied the folds of my sex. I knew that I was wet already.
“What’s this?” he asked, inserting a finger inside of me, gently probing. “Is my baby wet for me already?”
“Is that bad?” I asked, my tongue playfully tracing his lips. I could feel his hardness against me. Before I knew what was happening, Trey had lifted me up and set me on top of the conference room table, spreading my legs apart so that he was braced inside of them.
“Trey,” I whispered, “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
I started to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arms were strong around me.
“I’m going to fuck you, Mrs. Sinclair. Right here, right now. I’m going to make you come as well. Do you have an issue with that?”
“Well, actually, Mr. Sinclair, there's one little problem. Do you think I wear my diaphragm 24-7?”
“Not a problem at all, baby.”
He reached into the pocket of his suit trousers and pulled out a foil-wrapped condom. I was surprised, but not shocked. I found his lips again with mine, tasting him and feeling his fingers bringing me to rapid pleasure. This was so naughty, but so damn hot! I heard the zipper of his fly go down. He backed away from me momentarily, tearing the condom packet open and rolling the condom down the length of his very erect shaft.
He was ready and so was I. He scooted me to the edge of the table, placing each of my legs around his hips. He'd pulled my skirt up around my waist. His hand guided his hard erection into my core gently. He teased me a bit going in and out very slowly, but not fully. I wanted the full length of him inside me. My hands clutched his butt pulling him in deeper. Finally, he buried himself fully into me. I moaned softly with the pleasure it gave me.
"Mmmm, that feels so good,” I said, rotating my hips in a circular rhythm.
“Do you like that?” he asked, rocking slowly back and forth inside of me.
“Ummm…yes,” I said, feeling the head of his erection massaging my sweet spot again and again. I was quickening and Trey knew it. He wanted to prolong our pleasure. He stopped his gentle thrusting and I whined in protest.
“Easy, baby,” he crooned softly to me. “We aren’t in any hurry here, are we?”
He started rolling his hips against me once again and resumed his gentle thrusting in and out of me. My hips gyrated as I leaned back against the table, moving my legs up to his shoulders. I knew he liked it.
“God, Tylar,” he rasped, his momentum now picking up as he buried himself into me deeply.
His in and out thrusting was becoming stronger and stronger. I felt the swell of my climax ready to peak. Trey was moaning now. He stopped suddenly and I felt the throb of his climax emptying inside of me. It was the tiny push I needed to give way to mine. My core contracted in response, squeezing him over and over again as I came with him. We both moaned softly with the sweet pleasure of our orgasms.
When I got back to my work area, the wall clock read 3:45 p.m. I'd only been gone for thirty minutes. Leah was on a call with someone so I finished up the data inputs in Mr. Harmon’s schedule then sorted the incoming mail, date-stamping it in and distributing it.
I wondered how Susan was doing with her afternoon interview with Sheila Bradley. Susan had referred to her as "Nurse Bradley.” She probably liked the idea of a registered nurse being Preston’s babysitter. Susan could fill Trey and I in on the details at dinner.
At five, Leah and I cleaned off our desktops and filed any remaining file folders away. She took off, telling me she'd see me in the morning. Her surgery was scheduled for Wednesday morning, so tomorrow would be our last day together until she came back after surgery. I called Trey’s phone and Tonya answered.
“He’s on a phone call, Tylar,” she said. Her voice sounded strange, somehow distracted. “I’ll take a note in to him that you called down here. Why don’t you sit tight until he comes by to get you, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, puzzled by her demeanor and her choice of words.
Why wouldn’t she have just said she'd have him call me as soon as he was off the phone?
I called the apartment realizing I hadn’t thought about the fact Susan had been busy with interviews and caring for Preston all day. I wanted to check and see if she wanted Trey and I to pick up something for dinner. Maybe she'd feel like going out to eat. That might be nice on our part to take her out for a nice dinner. The landline in our apartment rang and rang; finally the automated voicemail picked up. Maybe she was changing the baby’s diaper or something. The interview had to be over by this time.
Just then, Trey appeared in the office area. His face was ashen and his expression was as if it had been etched in stone. It reminded me a little bit of that dream that I had where Trey looked like a statue. This wasn’t a dream however.
“What is it?” I asked, a feeling of fear and panic slowly seeping in.
“We have to get to the hospital, now,” he stated firmly.
“What? Why? What happened? Oh my God,” I was starting to shriek. “Did something happen to Preston?”
“No—it’s Mom.”
Chapter 10
I didn’t recall the drive to the hospital. Trey hadn't said much at all, only that he'd received a called from the police indicating that his mother had been taken there by paramedics; her condition was underdetermined at that point. There'd be detectives there to interview us once we arrived, he'd said.
“Where's Preston?” I asked Trey.
“I’m sure she was either left with a neighbor or is at the hospital with Mom,” he responded calmly. “Someone at the hospital is likely looking after her until we get there.”
“What kind of accident or injury happened to your mom?”
“I’m not sure, but let’s please hope and pray for the best okay?”
“Okay,” I answered as Trey pulled into the Emergency Room parking lot at St. Matthews Hospital.
As we entered the lobby to the ER, several police officers immediately approached, and led us to a private waiting room off of the ER, which I could only guess was used for privacy when the news was bad. I felt my throat start to close up as Trey pulled me along side of him into the room. One of the officers
shut the door and instructed us to take our seats.
“Your mother will be fine,” he assured us right off the bat.
I breathed a sigh of relief and felt Trey relax beside me. Our relief was short-lived.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, when the paramedics brought your mother in a little while ago, she was unconscious due to a concussion. She started coming around just a few minutes ago and has been disoriented and extremely anxious. She's insisting that whoever bashed her over the head took your baby daughter. Do you have a baby daughter that would've been in the apartment with your mother when the fire alarm sounded?”
“Fire alarm?” Trey asked.
“It was just a false alarm; don’t worry your building is fine. If, in fact, your daughter's missing, it could've been an attempt to divert attention away from the alleged perpetrator.”
I hadn’t heard anything after Trey had questioned the police about the fire alarm. Oh my God, she did it! She fucking did it. I'd known that somehow and some way my mother would come back to hurt me. It was what I'd feared and dreamt about; it was the reason for the paranoia inside of me that the pills Dr. Addison had prescribed had magically tucked away from my subconscious.
Mom had my baby. I was as sure of that as I was of my love for Trey and Preston. The bitch was mine! That was the last conscious promise I made to myself before I was blessed with darkness as my body took over and I careened into oblivion.
I was awakened abruptly by a nurse waving smelling salts underneath my nose. Trey was right there; he'd lifted me back onto my chair. The nurse had a gurney there, but I refused. I knew that I'd be fine. I had to be fine because I was going to find my baby and kill that bitch.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said, pushing the nurse’s hand away with the disgusting smelling salts.
“Sweetie,” Trey pleaded, “I think you're in shock right now, as we all are, let them help you, baby.”
Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2) Page 8
