by MJ Rodgers
Marc shook his head as he opened the door to the lab for Remy to pass through. They both approached the guard station. A short, dark-haired man with dark sunglasses waited beside the guard.
“Dr. Remy Westbrook?” he asked.
“Yes. You have something for me?”
He pulled a folded document out from his jacket pocket and held it out to her.
The second Remy had taken it from him, he added, “Dr. Westbrook, you are officially served with this summons and complaint.”
“Served?” Remy repeated, perplexed.
The man didn’t respond to Remy’s question. He turned and quickly scurried toward his car in the parking lot. Remy drew out the document from the envelope and read it with growing anger as the car squealed away.
“Why, of all the—”
“What is it?” Marc said as he attempted to read over her shoulder.
“Heddy and Colin Demerchant have petitioned the court to have Nicholas removed from my care. They’re claiming that I’m not a fit mother!”
Marc snatched the document from her hands. Remy watched as he scanned the contents and then crushed the summons in his fist.
“So now we know why they hired Neville Smith to follow you and why they caused that trouble with Mrs. Barker. They want to discredit you in order to gain custody of Nicholas.”
Remy sucked in a frightened breath. She was shocked, both by the threat and by how seriously Marc Truesdale was taking it. The cold anger in his voice as he looked into an unseen distance matched the chilling glaze in his eyes.
She grabbed his sleeve, trying to bring him back, needing to bring him back in order to answer questions she wished like hell she didn’t have to ask.
“Marc, you said they didn’t even want to rear their own son. Why would they want Nicholas?”
Marc’s eyes moved to her face. They still held that chilling glaze. His answer poured pure ice down her spine.
“Because they don’t really want Nicholas, Remy. What they want is the million dollars David’s estate would award them each year if Nicholas were in their custody.”
“They want...money? But they have money!”
Marc shook his head. “Louie Demerchant gives them the half million he promised them every year, but they’re always complaining it’s not enough. It’s clear they plan to use Nicholas to get more.”
Remy shook her head in horror, all color draining from her face as she stepped back from him and his words. Her baby? She could really lose her baby? “No! They can’t take Nicholas from me!”
Marc reached out to take her hands, halting her retreat. “Remy, I won’t let them take Nicholas. I give you my word.”
His grasp was very strong. She could feel that strength coursing through her. She raised her eyes to his and was surprised to find their cobalt blue cores as solid as steel.
She had seen what a determined and potent adversary he could be. Could he be as determined and potent a supporter? Dare she trust him?
Chapter Seven
“Tell me, Mr. Demerchant, have you had anything to do with Colin and Heddy’s attempt to get custody of Nicholas?”
“What do you mean, Truesdale?” Louie Demerchant’s voice asked over the phone, trying to sound innocent—and failing.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Marc shouted into his mouthpiece. “You agreed to back off and let me handle this. Now, I want some straight answers. How deeply are you involved?”
“All right. Maybe I mentioned the possibility of filing for visiting rights. But I didn’t say custody, and I never thought they’d do something even before you proved he was a Demerchant.”
“Get them to withdraw this suit, Mr. Demerchant.”
“I only have a half million to threaten them with. If they get Nicholas, they know a million comes with him.”
“And you’re also reluctant to interfere because if they do get Nicholas, you know they’ll turn him over to you to raise, just like they did with David.”
“I won’t let them exclude his mother. Dr. Westbrook can come live here. She’ll still be the boy’s primary caretaker.”
Marc’s anger sizzled. “Got it all worked out, haven’t you.”
Louie’s gruff voice barked back. “I didn’t plan this, Truesdale. But I didn’t get to where I am by overlooking opportunities that come my way, either. I’ll neither support Colin and Heddy in this, nor will I oppose them.”
* * *
MARC RAPPED ON the outside of Octavia Osborne’s distinctive black-lacquer office door at the law offices of Justice Inc.
Octavia raised her head, pushed back a tumble of flame red hair and smiled. “Come on in, Marc, but don’t make yourself comfortable. I have to leave for a deposition soon.”
Marc stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I need your help.”
An inquisitive, sagacious eyebrow rose into Octavia’s smooth forehead. She leaned back in her chair. “A closed-door conference? Well, you’ve certainly piqued my interest. What’s up?”
Marc moved directly in front of his partner’s black-lacquer desk with bright red tulips painted on it. The carpet was black with a silver sheen, the drapes red. The walls were covered with theatrical masks, all smiling. It was an upbeat, eye-catching and unconventional lawyer’s office, much like the lady who occupied it.
“Octavia, you handled a few custody battle cases before you came to Justice Inc., didn’t you?”
“Far more than a few. Seemed like every divorce I got involved in resulted in an emotional bloodletting over who got the kids.”
“Word is that you were very successful with them.”
She smiled. “Too successful. The firm I used to work for insisted I specialize in them. That’s why I left that firm. Custody battles are pure agony, Marc. They tear up the parents, the kids and, yes, even the lawyers.”
“I need you to second seat me on one.”
Octavia leaned forward in her chair, her previous smile gone in a flash. “Marc, as a partner here, I exercise my right to take only those cases I want. And I never want another child custody battle, first or second seat. What’s more, you’re crazy to be handling a divorce. You don’t know the first thing about them.”
“This doesn’t involve a divorce. Remy Westbrook is being taken to court by Colin and Heddy Demerchant because they’re trying to get custody of her son. They’re after the money that goes with him.”
Octavia leaned back in her chair. She tapped her red fingernails on the top of one of the matching painted tulips on her desk. “Well, the only grounds a family court judge would even consider for a custody request from grandparents would be if the mother were unfit. From what you’ve told us, A.J.’s investigation has shown this Remy Westbrook to be a good mother. What are you worried about?”
“Colin and Heddy Demerchant are claiming that Remy is putting Nicholas in physical danger while he learns sign language alongside a ‘wild’ chimpanzee.”
“It’s not true?”
“No, but a P.I. has been hanging around, and I have an uncomfortable feeling he’s gotten hold of something incriminating.”
“Hmm. That’s sticky. If the court has any doubt about a child’s safety, they have a tendency to err on the conservative side. When was Dr. Westbrook served the summons?”
“Early this afternoon.”
“When must she appear?”
“Tomorrow at eleven.”
“Tomorrow? For a judge to schedule an appearance that quick is not a good sign, Marc. If a family law judge holds any suspicion that a child’s environment might not be safe, he has a knee-jerk tendency to remove him from that environment until he is sure—even before all the facts can be presented in court.”
“Are you saying that some social worker could take Nicholas from his mother tomorrow morning if the judge even thinks there is the slightest possibility of truth to the Demerchants’ allegation?”
“Yes. Or if the grandparents have a sharp enough lawyer, they could be going for interim custo
dy themselves. Who is representing them?”
“Eleanor Geyser.”
“Uh-oh. Old Faithful.”
“Old Faithful?”
“That’s what they call Eleanor Geyser in family court. Marc, I hate to tell you this, but you are in trouble. Geyser’s a staunch advocate of grandparents’ rights, and she knows her family law. She must have something incriminating against Dr. Westbrook.”
Marc exhaled and leaned his palms on Octavia’s desk. “I’ve never even been in family court, and I don’t have the time to learn the ins and outs by tomorrow morning. I have just two weeks to prepare for the trial challenging Nicholas’s claim as David Demerchant’s child and beneficiary to his estate.”
Octavia waved her arms at the thick brief sitting in the center of her desk. “I’d like to help you out, but I have depositions scheduled nearly back-to-back all week. Maybe Adam or Kay can assist you.”
Marc leaned his weight off the desk. “Adam and Kay aren’t experts in family law.”
“Don’t you look at me that way, Marc Truesdale. You’ll just have to give this custody case to another firm.”
“I can’t turn this over to another firm, Octavia. The only ones I know well enough to trust don’t know anything about family law. I gave Remy Westbrook my word that I would not let the Demerchants take her son. My word, Octavia.”
Octavia sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “You know what your problem is, Marc? You get too personally involved in your cases.”
He looked her straight in the eye. “So do you. Your personal involvement is what gets your clients the big settlements and prevents most of them from even having to go to trial.”
“My cases are different.”
“Octavia, all of our cases are different. Yours. Mine. Kay’s. Adam’s. We’ve all caught the involvement bug. And I don’t think there’s a doctor around who can cure us.”
Octavia looked at Marc silently for a moment, then laughed—that exuberant, full-throated explosion that set the room to vibrating. When she finally stopped, her generous mouth had circled into a smile.
“Oh, what the hell. Sit down. I’ll get my secretary to squeeze this afternoon’s deposition into tomorrow somehow. Now, you tell me everything A.J. has found out about Dr. Westbrook and this research lab where the chimp and the boy have interacted. Don’t leave anything out.”
* * *
“HOW ARE YOU FEELING?” Marc asked as soon as Remy entered the courtroom the next morning.
“Fine,” she lied in her mellowest tone, taking the seat next to him at the defense table and trying not to look at Colin and Heddy Demerchant already seated at the plaintiff’s table.
Marc moved closer and put his hand on her arm. His voice was a gentle promise in her ear. “It’s okay, Remy. We’re going to beat them.”
His eyes held the same assurance as his words. His body, his touch, felt so warm, so strong. For a moment, she felt herself relaxing into the warmth and strength he offered.
She stopped herself. She couldn’t afford to relax. She couldn’t afford to rely on him. She had learned that lesson as a child, and now the welfare of her own child depended on it.
“Remy, it’s going to be all right.”
As much as she fought it, the compassion and concern in his voice and touch made her throat thicken. She swallowed, but the feeling was still there, like a sore lump.
She looked away. The attorney at the plaintiff’s table caught her eye, smiled, got up and came over.
She was somewhere in her late sixties, a short, white-haired, round little lady who wore a grandmother’s smile—the kind that welcomed you from the cold outdoors into the warmth and congeniality of her home.
“Hi, I’m Eleanor Geyser,” she said, offering her hand.
“Remy Westbrook,” Remy responded automatically as she rose to take the woman’s hand. She got a warm, determined shake. Geyser next offered her hand to Marc.
“I hear you kill ‘em on cross-examinations, Truesdale.”
He took her hand. “And I hear your arguments just gush with passion, Geyser.”
The attorney laughed in short, tinkling spouts as she released his hand.
As she walked back to the plaintiff’s table, Remy turned to Marc. “She seems far nicer than I expected.”
“Don’t be fooled. She’ll be out for blood, Remy.”
Remy understood Marc’s warning when the judge entered the courtroom moments later and Eleanor Geyser got up to speak.
“Your Honor, this is a simple motion I bring to you this morning, but a very important one. I am trying to safeguard a child before it is too late. His name is Nicholas and he is only eighteen months old. Nicholas is in the sole care of his unwed mother, who takes him to her work in an animal research lab five days a week and leaves him to play with a wild chimpanzee.”
Eleanor Geyser marched forward to the bench. “I submit this photograph taken of this wild animal and Nicholas last week at this so-called ‘play’ to show that, indeed, Nicholas is not only being harmed, but he is in danger of being killed by this uncontrollable beast. Look, Your Honor. See for yourself.”
Remy watched the judge frown as he looked at the picture. Marc immediately walked up to the bench. After a moment, the judge handed him the picture. Marc looked at it without expression before handing it back to the judge. He said not a word, just retraced his steps to the defense table and sat down.
Remy’s stomach churned; her hands began to shake. What was in that picture that had made the judge frown? Why didn’t Marc protest its admission into evidence?
Geyser continued to address the court. “Your Honor, the full custody hearing on this case isn’t scheduled until six weeks from today. This child doesn’t have six weeks. Caged with that horrible beast, he may not even have six hours! We need your immediate ruling for his protection. On behalf of my clients, on behalf of this child, I petition this court to grant full and immediate temporary custody of their grandson to Colin and Heddy Demerchant. Please.”
Geyser’s voice had risen and broken on that final plea. She had sounded so sincerely moved, her argument so reasonable. Remy was horrified to realize that if she were the judge in this case, presented with this argument and ignorant of the real facts of the matter, she would have easily been persuaded.
Her heart sank to her knees, leaving her chest with a devastating hollowness. How could such wrong be made to sound so right?
Marc stood. Contrary to the emotional delivery of Geyser’s plea, his voice was even and composed.
“Your Honor, Dr. Remy Westbrook is a respected scientist involved in important research on the differences between how chimpanzees and humans acquire language. Her son has been part of closely supervised sign-language sessions with a tame chimpanzee. At no time has he ever been left alone with this chimpanzee.”
Marc paused and approached the bench with a document in his hand. “I submit to this court the sworn medical statement of pediatrician Dr. Gail Enders, who gave Nicholas Westbrook a complete physical late yesterday. As you can see, Dr. Enders found absolutely no signs of any physical abuse. On the contrary, as she states in her report, the boy doesn’t even have a bruise.
“I also submit to this court the sworn statement of psychologist Dr. Damian Steele, who gave Nicholas Westbrook a psychological examination yesterday. As you can see, Dr. Steele found Nicholas to be a happy, well-adjusted boy with absolutely no signs of fear for chimpanzees, but rather a distinct and discernible affection.”
“A moment,” the judge said as he looked over the medical reports.
“Your Honor, may I see those reports?” Geyser asked.
The judge nodded and the attorney approached. She glanced at them only briefly before she said, “There were no X rays done. Without X rays, how can previous fractures or broken bones be detected?”
“Mr. Truesdale?” the judge asked.
“Since there were absolutely no signs of physical trauma, the pediatrician believed X rays would only subject the c
hild to unnecessary radiation exposure, so she elected not to have them taken. It’s all in her report.”
The judge read where Marc pointed, then nodded after a moment for Marc to go on.
“I also submit to this court the sworn statement of Dr. Feeson from the University of Washington, where Dr. Westbrook has been teaching one class a week, and where her lab facilities are located for carrying on her sign-language research.”
Marc paused as the judge took the paper from his hands.
“As you can see in his statement,” Marc continued, “Dr. Feeson has accepted the resignation of Dr. Remy Westbrook as instructor at the university as of four o’clock yesterday afternoon. He further states that he took possession of her key to the lab and her identification card, and he advised all security personnel of her nonemployee status.”
After the judge had read this document and again satisfied himself, he nodded toward Marc to continue.
Marc stepped away from the bench and came to stand behind Remy. He lightly rested his hands on her shoulders.
“Dr. Westbrook fought for five long years to obtain the grant that funded her research. That grant was forfeited the moment she resigned her position at the university. She gave up her job and her grant to remove her son from any contact with the chimp, even though she knows the chimp never posed any danger to Nicholas. She did it to reassure you. This mother has sacrificed her work to keep her son by her side.”
Marc looked over at the plaintiff’s table and frowned. “Those two people say they are Nicholas’s grandparents. The truth is, Your Honor, they have never met him and we don’t even know if they are related to Nicholas. That is another matter yet to be resolved by another court.”
Marc looked up at the judge. “But we do know that Remy Westbrook is Nicholas’s mother. We have all the physical proofs. And more important, you are holding in your hands the most important proof of all—the evidence of her sacrifice for her son. Nicholas belongs with her.”
As Marc’s hands slipped off Remy’s shoulders, she felt a small chill. He had presented their side so reasonably, so competently. But would it be enough?
