Silver Thaw

by Catherine Anderson

  The attorney directed his gaze straight at Amanda. “Okay, so spill it. Why are you here, seeking help? What has your husband done to lose visitation with his daughter? I’ve gotten only the basic facts from my secretary. She made room for you in my busy schedule today because you claim the matter is urgent.”

  Without loosening her hold on Jeb, Amanda thrust her right hand into her parka pocket, grasped the SD card, and shoved it across the desk. Anger turned her blood hot, making it move as slowly through her veins as molten lava. “Have a look at these photos and decide if I have a case. Your decision may mean the difference between life and death for my little girl.” With a final push, Amanda put the SD card right in front of his bulging upper belly. “If you don’t feel I have a good reason to deny my husband visitation with her, I’ll be out of here in a nanosecond.”

  Jeb gave Amanda’s shaking hand a two-beat squeeze. She took that to mean that she’d faced the devil and won. She sat hunched forward and stiff as the attorney picked up the SD card and inserted it into his computer. The instant the photographs came up on his screen, he muttered an obscenity.

  Jeb bent his head and stared at the carpet, trying, she knew, to spare her some degree of humiliation. Amanda remained on the edge of her chair. When pictures of Chloe came onto the screen, tears filled her eyes. My fault, all my fault. The child never would have endured such pain if I hadn’t married Mark. Jeb’s hand tightened on hers. She held on to him as if her life depended on it. But in truth it wasn’t her life at stake. It was her precious baby’s.

  As if the attorney sensed Amanda’s embarrassment, he hit the “off” button on the monitor, making it go blank. Swiveling in his expensive chair, he folded his hands over his protruding paunch and said, “Those are some very disturbing photos. What prompted you to take them?”

  “When Mark—that’s my husband—started to speak and act with cruelty toward my daughter, Chloe, I knew it was only a matter of time before he would begin to abuse her physically. I needed to get her out of there, save money for a divorce, and make sure Mark never got unsupervised visitation with our child. I figured the pictures, showing the frequency of and the crazy reasons for his attacks on me, followed by photographic evidence of his attacks on Chloe, would be accepted as evidence in court and help a judge to understand how dangerous Mark is.”

  “Why didn’t you jump in the car and haul ass for help?”

  “I had no car.”

  “No car.” He quirked an eyebrow. “So why didn’t you call a family member to come get you?”

  “I had no phone.”

  “No phone? In this day and age, even kids have cell phones.”

  The tremors racking Amanda’s body became worse. This attorney would never understand what her situation with Mark had been like, and he clearly felt there were huge holes in her story. She needed a lawyer who believed what she told him, someone who would fight with everything he had to save her daughter.

  “I had no phone,” Amanda repeated. “If you don’t believe me, perhaps I need to seek other representation.”

  “I haven’t doubted a word you’ve said,” Johnson replied. “But to win this case—and it’s going to be one hell of a battle—I need to know everything, and why you allowed it to occur. I also need to see how you hold up under questioning. Believe me, I’m acting like a lamb compared to an opposing litigator. He’ll try his damnedest to tear your story apart, and if you lose your cool, the best lawyer in the world won’t be able to win this case and keep your daughter safe.”

  Shaking so violently that she couldn’t conceal it, Amanda asked, “Does that mean you’ll represent me?”

  “I think you need my help—I mean really need my help—so, yes, I’ll represent you. I require a ten-thousand-dollar retainer fee. A check or credit card is fine. Money matters are handled out front by my staff. As I work and log in hours, your fund may run low. In that event, you’ll be notified in time to replenish it.”

  Not allowing herself to consider her words, she said, “For you to get the full picture, Mr. Johnson, I’ll start at the beginning.”

  He nodded.

  Barely pausing to breathe, Amanda started talking. She told him about discovering that she was pregnant after her first intimate encounter with a boy whom she thought was the love of her life. How she’d reeled with morning sickness as she walked across the stage in Olympia, Washington, to receive her high school diploma. How Mark, acting like her savior, insisted on marrying her. How she foolishly believed he was wonderful.

  “He hit me on our wedding night,” she told the attorney. “He didn’t like the lingerie I’d chosen. I was four months along, starting to show, and didn’t want to wear anything see-through. So I picked something more concealing. He hit me so hard that he knocked me across the bed and onto the floor. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized all of my upper left molars were loose and that my jaw was fractured. My husband refused to take me to a dentist or a doctor.”

  The attorney stiffened and shifted his weight on his fancy chair. “But you stayed to let him do it again.”

  “Not by choice. He hovered over me. If I went near the motel room phone, he dug his fingernails into my arm and said he’d kill me if I called my folks.” Amanda swallowed to steady her voice. “It was supposed to be a one-night honeymoon, but my face was such a mess, Mark called his boss and asked for two weeks off for a real honeymoon. He lied and said we were going to Tahiti. The boss was a good guy and gave him a leave of absence.

  “Mark checked us out of the fancy hotel and walked me through the lobby with the black side of my face pressed against his chest. He told me to make it look romantic or I’d wish I’d never been born.” She passed a hand over her eyes, not realizing until then that tears were streaming down her cheeks. “We went house-hunting. He watched me every second. He finally found an old dump clear across town from where my parents lived.”

  “And it was then that you began living together?”

  An overwhelming urge to run washed over Amanda again, but the grip of Jeb’s hand on hers gave her the courage to remain seated. “Yes. And during the remainder of our so-called honeymoon, he used me as a punching bag, placing his blows so the bruises wouldn’t show. He used filthy words I’d never heard and didn’t understand. He said I ruined his life by getting pregnant. Instead of going to college, he was stuck with a wife he didn’t want and a kid on the way. He told me his father had forced him to marry me—to do right by me.

  “The house was a long way from my folks. Mark refused to get home phone service. He bought a laptop and paid for Internet, but he took the computer with him to work and kept it locked in the car trunk at night. Sometimes he’d bring it inside to play stupid games, but I was never allowed near it.”

  Johnson inclined his head, indicating for her to go on.

  “One day when I walked across town to see my mother—and that wasn’t easy, being so pregnant—he found out and beat me again. After that first night, he was careful not to bruise me where it would show. I’m sorry. I think I told you that.” Amanda gulped and forced herself to go back in time. “I think my mom knew something wasn’t right, but she wasn’t sure what. Dad was getting on in years. I knew he’d kill Mark—or at least try—if he learned what my husband was doing. But I was only eighteen. I didn’t want my dad to get hurt. I knew Mark could lay my mother flat with one blow. I was afraid to tell on him.”

  Johnson shifted again, but now he held his body even more stiffly. “Go on.”

  Go on? He wanted her to go on? Jeb tightened his fingers over hers. Do it, he seemed to be saying. Amanda didn’t know if she had the strength.

  “If my mother drove over to see me while I was pregnant and Mark found out, he beat me. When I walked to a pay phone and called the cops, he charmed his way out of an arrest by telling them I was emotional and having erratic mood swings because of my advanced pregnancy. After the police
left, Mark grew so violent that I feared I might lose the baby.

  “Toward the end of my pregnancy, he stopped beating me. I stupidly thought he had turned over a new leaf. In retrospect, I know that he didn’t want the doctor or nurses to see bruises all over my body when I went into labor.”

  “How could they possibly have missed them during your prenatal exams?”

  “Mark didn’t allow me to have prenatal care. And he started beating me again the day I brought Chloe home from the hospital. He said no one would believe me and if I reported it, he would take Chloe and I’d never see her again.”

  “Why didn’t you seek help while you were at the hospital?”

  “I was scared to. When I called the cops on him, he almost killed me. And while I was in the hospital, I had no bruises as proof.”

  “X-rays would have been evidence enough.”

  Amanda felt her temper rising again. “I was only eighteen. I’d just delivered a baby. I thought maybe Mark had turned over a new leaf. I was terrified of him! If you don’t understand that, you’re not the lawyer I need.” She looked at Jeb. “I need a woman, not this cranky man who questions me at every turn.”

  Mr. Johnson leaned forward and curled a heavy hand over Amanda’s wrist. “I’m not questioning you to be cruel, Ms. Banning. I need all this information. You’ve abandoned your husband. You’ve taken his daughter and not notified him of her whereabouts. You want a judge to deny him any visitation that isn’t supervised. It’ll be a tough fight, and I can’t go into court without every bit of ammunition you can give me.”

  “Then you believe me?”

  “How could I not after seeing those pictures? But pictures alone, though powerful, aren’t enough.”

  So, dredging deep for strength, Amanda finished her story. The words poured from her like water from a spout. The room around her blurred. When she stopped talking, she couldn’t remember if she’d told the attorney everything. She had no recollection of what she’d said.

  Johnson sat back in his chair, tapping his chin with a pen. “So he moved you two states away from your folks, rented a house far from town with few neighbors along the rural road. You had no car, no phone, no Internet, and he allowed you to have no money, not even change. The only time you did get your hands on cash was when he took you grocery shopping, and then he demanded the receipt and insisted that you give him back every penny you hadn’t spent.” His gray eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “Acquiring heaps of credit cards under both your name and his, with pin numbers for each one, and drawing all the cash you could from them by walking into town every day for a month to ATM locations—well, that was nothing short of brilliant.” A slow smile curved his lips. “You got out of there before the statements started rolling in.” A deep from-the-belly laugh erupted from him. “You had enough money to start over somewhere. But my favorite part is that you screwed him over good by leaving him with all the bills to pay, and, trust me, the interest rate on credit card cash withdrawals is high. My hat is off to you.”

  Until then, Jeb had remained mostly silent. “Give it to me straight, Johnson. Can you win this case? If you have any doubt, I need to know right now. No matter what it takes, I won’t allow that son of a bitch to get his hands on that little girl again.”

  Johnson shook his head. “Don’t even go there. Hiding the child would be a serious criminal offense, and it won’t be necessary. I don’t know what your relationship with Ms. Banning is, but I get where you’re coming from. I won’t allow harm to come to this child.”

  “Do you think Amanda can hold her own under questioning? She got extremely upset while talking with you.”

  Johnson grinned. “I want her upset. I want the judge to hear her voice quaking. If she breaks down and cries, even better. The one thing she cannot do is lose her temper.” He directed his gaze at Amanda. “Do you understand, Ms. Banning? You can get upset. You can sob. But if you get pissed, the judge may lose sympathy for you.”

  Amanda nodded.

  * * *

  While hearing Amanda’s story, Jeb had grown increasingly horrified. After seeing the photos, he’d known she’d been to hell and back, but he still hadn’t understood just how nightmarish it had been for her. That she’d found the courage and the means to rescue her daughter was—well, to Jeb it was incredible. He’d never researched domestic abuse, but over the years he’d read enough here and there to know that most severely abused women became so browbeaten and lacking in self-confidence that they were afraid to leave, convinced they couldn’t make it on their own.

  Now that he’d heard her story, he better understood her stubbornness about accepting help. To her, needing help proved that Mark had been right. She was too stupid to be independent. It wasn’t stubborn pride that drove Amanda; it was terror and an awful sense of inadequacy.

  To Johnson, Jeb said, “I’ve got a few concerns, which I believe are legitimate. Essentially Amanda abandoned her husband and took his child. Isn’t it possible that Mark has already filed for divorce, and possibly been granted one, along with full custody of his daughter once he finds her?”

  “It’s possible,” Johnson replied. “I’ll check into it.” He looked at the wall clock and then at Amanda. “I want you back in my office in one hour—by four fifteen. While you’re gone, I’ll get the divorce papers drawn up so you can sign them, and I’ll file before five. If Mark has already filed, the filing here, with several different charges leveled against him—including spousal abuse, child abuse, child endangerment, mental anguish, to name only a few—will put a hitch in his get-along.” He jotted a few notes and passed the paper to Amanda. “Do you have another copy of the SD card?”

  “Yes. Jeb made copies.”

  “Good. You played it very smart by taking those pictures. They’re dated. They’ll stand good as evidence.” He tapped the paper with his finger. “While I’m drawing up the dissolution papers, I want you to go to the state police and file all these charges against your husband. I know several judges in California, including one in Eureka. I’m going to call her and then e-mail her the picture file. She’ll also receive a list of the charges you’ve made, which will be handled in California, the state of jurisdiction. Trust me—when she sees those photos, she’ll be so furious that she’ll want Mark Banning’s head. His only possible defense will be to deny that he committed the abuse.”

  “And what if he does?” Amanda asked.

  Johnson shrugged. “I’ll take great pleasure in tearing apart his story when the case goes to trial. I’m licensed to practice in California, which is where he will be tried.” Turning to Jeb, he asked, “Do you have a good security system installed in your home?”

  “No. I have a mastiff. I always figured he was all the security I needed.”

  “Not anymore. If you can afford it, get one, ASAP. The instant I file this appeal for divorce, Amanda and Chloe’s presence in Mystic Creek will be revealed. It’s a small town. I’ll use her rental address to throw him off track, but if he’s clever, he may discover where they’re staying.” He turned to Amanda. “The cops will be expecting you at the police station. Once you file those charges, the Eureka authorities will try to arrest your husband.”

  “Try?” Jeb interjected.

  Johnson shrugged again. “They may not be able to find him.” To Amanda, he added, “While you’re gone, I’ll call in a favor from a judge I know to get a restraining order issued against him today.”

  Jeb saw Amanda’s shoulders go limp with relief. Apparently Johnson noticed as well. “The problem with restraining orders is that men like Mark Banning often ignore them. Does he own any weapons?”

  “Yes, one rifle and a couple of handguns,” she said. “Possibly more by now.”

  “Until the man is behind bars, you and your child may not be safe.” He leveled a look at Jeb. “Are you by any chance a hunter?”

  “If you’re asking if I have weapon
s, yes. I keep them locked in a gun safe out in my garage.”

  “Get them out. Load them to the hilt. Keep a gun within your easy reach in every room of the house, if you have enough weapons to do that.”

  “I have a six-year-old girl in my house.”

  “Make sure she can’t get to them. Men like Banning can be obsessed and dangerous. I also recommend that you show Amanda how to handle all the weapons and let her do target practice with several of them.” He paused. “To be safe, however, you should not leave her and the child alone. It’ll also be risky for Chloe to attend public school. The child’s father may try to take her. In situations like this, teachers are normally more than happy to allow the child to remain at home and receive assignments online or let someone pick up the lessons.”

  Jeb leaned slightly forward. “The man would have to be crazy to come after them when he’s got criminal charges lodged against him, plus a restraining order.”

  “You saw the pictures. How sane do you think this guy is?”

  “I see your point.” Jeb glanced at Amanda. “It’s just that this has been really hard for Amanda, and I don’t want to make it worse by scaring her half to death.”

  “Better scared than dead,” Johnson retorted.

  Chapter Eleven

  On the way to the police station, Jeb called his father and cut across the older man’s greeting. “Dad, earlier I didn’t share a lot of details about Amanda’s past, and I don’t have time now. I’m calling to give you a heads-up. Chloe may be in serious danger. Knock off work for the day, go inside, lock all the doors, get out your guns, and don’t leave Chloe’s side.”

  Not for the first time, Jeb thanked God his dad didn’t need his i’s dotted and his t’s crossed. Jeremiah asked no questions, except, “Who the hell wants to hurt Chloe?”