Three Seconds To Rush (Piper Anderson Legacy Mystery Book 1) Page 9

  “As it stands,” Reid growled, “it is. And this defense was your idea, Willow. And a damn good idea at that. Why back out now?”

  “I have ears, I can hear her. She’s saying she is not willing to say she tried to commit suicide even though we are telling her it would help her case,” Willow said adamantly. “We can walk through the steps of that night and piece together what happened. If they aren’t going to thoroughly investigate, then we will.”

  “You have three more days here before you head home,” Reid scoffed. “And are you honestly considering the fact that an investigation will go in our favor? If anything, we’re lucky the prosecution isn’t digging any deeper.” His blood was boiling now, frustrated by the logic being used. There was this pesky thing called reality that they both seemed ready to ignore.

  “How many times do you need to call me a liar, Reid?” Tara asked, her narrowed eyes fixed on him. “Willow doesn’t even know me, and she’s at least willing to help me find out what happened. Can’t you do the same?”

  “What else could have possibly happened?” he barked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe someone did this to me. Maybe I was attacked.”

  Reid didn’t bother answering, he just plowed forward with what he had planned. “This petition from the Oldens for you to relinquish your legal rights to Wylie isn’t going away. I’ve reached out to their attorney, and he was adamant that they will continue to pursue permanent legal custody of Wylie. He told me a hearing date will be set soon, and we could expect to be in front of a judge by the end of the month. I’ve set a meeting with a colleague of mine. She works in the family court and has agreed to review the case. She’s supposed to have an assessment when she gets here in fifteen minutes. But I don’t know that any of that matters if we don’t address this first.”

  “Willow,” Tara said, ignoring Reid’s explanation. “How do you investigate something like this? Where do you start?”

  “I’ve seen the footage from inside the grocery store where you were that night. But there was no footage in the parking lot where Wylie was found. None immediately around the area where you were found either. But there are only so many routes you could have taken from the parking lot. There is bound to be some ATM or other surveillance videos we could try to get our hands on. Then I’d go down to the area where you were found and look for more witnesses besides the few who found you. The 911 call was anonymous. I’d track that person down too. There’s still a lot we can do to piece the night together.”

  “She’s already been back to that area,” Reid snipped. “The very next day.”

  “I went back to try to jog my memory, to try to understand what happened. I wasn’t there for drugs.”

  “You’re wasting time we don’t have,” Reid cautioned. “We could be building a strong legal case for your psychological state and how it impacted your actions. Just hear Kay out and then consider it.”

  “Fine,” Tara shrugged. “Then hear Willow out and consider investigating further.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he just drew in a deep breath and rolled his eyes.

  “You two are worse than my kids,” Willow scolded. “Keep this up and I’ll separate you. I’m getting out of here. I need to follow up on a few things. Please try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

  Chapter 16

  “Thanks for coming,” Reid said, greeting Kay warmly and gesturing for her to take a seat. “I know you’re busy so I appreciate the work you’ve done on this.” He glanced over at Tara and she got the hint.

  “Yes, thank you very much.” She knew she sounded stiff, but it was getting unbearable to show gratitude in her situation. She just wanted it to be over. If Willow was here, at least she’d feel like she had someone in the room who understood the ache in her heart. Right now Wylie’s drooling face should be glued to her chest as she rocked him to sleep for his afternoon nap.

  “No problem,” she replied cheerfully, her soft-edged jaw and long dangling earrings all Tara could see from the corner of her eye. She could tell Kay was beautiful without even giving her a full on look. A woman of power. Well put together. Smelling like expensive perfume. “I just wish I had better news for you. The Oldens mean business.”

  “Doesn’t everyone attempting to gain custody from a biological parent mean business?” Reid asked, and Tara took notice of how much gentler his voice was in the company of Kay. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful he was comfortable enough to yell at her or insulted that he saved all his respect for a woman like Kay.

  “Actually, no,” Kay corrected as she crossed her long legs and smoothed her bright red skirt. “Most people act on sheer emotion and in turn underestimate the process. But the Oldens are very familiar with the system and more importantly the system is familiar with them. They’ve been foster parents for almost two years now. They are prominent members of their church and seemingly ideal parents.”

  “They aren’t his parents,” Tara barked but then shook her head apologetically as she gathered herself. “I just mean that I’m his mother, and they can’t take him because they have money and can buy him better things.”

  “You’re right about that,” Kay said, turning toward Tara and touching her shoulder gently. “In custody cases it’s not a matter of who the child would have a better life with. They need to prove not only that they can provide and care for the boy, but that you cannot. There is precedence that the best interests of the child as a legal standard in determining custody is erroneous when applied to a dispute between a biological parent and a third party because it does not appropriately recognize the weight of your rights.”

  “Um,” Tara said, squinting her eyes as she tried to understand.

  “That basically means being a biological parent gives you more right to him than anyone else. If you are fit to care for him.”

  “I can care for him. I’ve been caring for him every day since he was born.” Tara’s eyes filled with tears, and she wanted to slap the cherry red lipstick off this woman’s face. Though she knew the anger was misplaced, it still showed clearly in her expression. Kay, however, must have been a professional at being the punching bag, because she never skipped a beat.

  “It’s normally the preference of the court that reunification stay in play for as long as possible. That will work in your favor. But custody cases are highly discretionary and at times there is a blatant abuse of that discretion. You have to prepare for that.”

  “So some judge could like them better and I could lose him?” she asked, stunned by the holes in the process.

  Kay made a face that tried to be comforting, but it didn’t work. “Now, the Supreme Court has stated in previous cases that the child's best interest will be served by living in a parent's home. However, if circumstances compel a contrary conclusion, the interests of the child should outweigh the natural parent’s rights.” Kay pulled a notebook from her small bag and flipped through her notes. Tara was certain the legal phrases weren’t necessary but maybe just a show of Kay’s intelligence.

  “But are they trying to prove there are circumstances here that would cancel out my rights?” Tara asked through a choked voice, trying to boil it down to its simplest form.

  “You can argue that the biological parent has a fundamental right in the care, custody, and management of her child, which is protected by the due process clause of the fourteenth amendment. However, the Oldens have compiled a strong case. They intend to bring in a substantial list of witnesses. They aren’t limiting their points to the criminal charges against you right now. They’re saying there is a persistent neglect of parental duties that are drastically affecting the welfare of the child.”

  “What are they citing?” Reid asked, and Tara took comfort in his growing anger. At least he could see how crazy all of this was. She could hear the sudden change in his tone of voice.

  Kay bobbed her head back and forth as though she were giving it all ample consideration. “In my opinion they are likely overreaching. But some
times if they dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s it won’t matter. They’ve had Wylie meet with a psychologist, a new pediatrician, and an early intervention specialist,” Kay said, glancing at her notes. “They’ve pulled out all the stops, and they intend to create a rock solid picture of what Wylie’s life would be like with them. They’ve even enrolled him in a local preschool that focuses on early literacy and social competence.”

  “Can I see him?” Tara asked desperately, pained to think of Wylie being dropped off at some school and left with strangers. More strangers. “Can’t I get even a few minutes to hold him and know he’s all right?”

  “He is all right,” Kay assured her. “There are social workers involved with the case, and they are making sure he’s settling in to his grandparents’ home. But unfortunately the terms of your bail state you cannot see him. Reaching out to the Oldens would be a mistake, considering how adamantly they are pursuing custody. Any communication could be twisted and used against you.”

  “So are you saying I’m going to lose my child to them just because they’ve spent some money to get some professionals to say whatever they want?” Tara sprang to her feet and paced toward the window, her anger growing too large for this small office.

  “If I’m being honest,” Kay started and looked at Reid for support, “it’ll come down to the judge. Some have been burned too many times when it comes to addicts, especially heroin. It’s an epidemic right now, and the odds of getting clean for a sustainable amount of time are low. If you get a judge who is jaded and hears the compelling evidence from the Oldens, there’s a chance they could act swiftly and terminate your parental rights. But the precedence is to give you the opportunity to correct or amend the issues raised in the Oldens accusations and be reunited with your child.” She placed her notebook back in her bag and stood. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time today to go over this. My recommendation is you create a comprehensive action plan that includes a better support system for you and Wylie. Focus on the criminal charges and getting that resolved or settled. You should know the Oldens are citing the fact that you refused treatment as a testament to your unwillingness to get clean. I’m not sure if getting drug treatment is still something you would consider.”

  “What if the charges were reduced down to misdemeanor child endangerment?” Reid asked, and Tara wanted to cut in, more than she wanted to know the answer.

  “Is that on the table?” Kay asked, looking surprised.

  “It might be,” Reid answered, shooting a glance over at Tara, making sure she was paying attention.

  “That would certainly be easier to argue in family court than being convicted of felony charges. If it’s a viable option, I’d pursue it. I don’t have time to take the case myself, but please call me if you want any input. I’d be happy to give my opinion.”

  She was halfway out the door, glancing at her watch before Reid rounded his desk to follow her out.

  “I’ll walk you down,” he offered, his hand planted gently on the small of her back as they left. Tara got the feeling Reid and Kay were more than business associates, and that unsettled her. A woman like Kay was all wrong for Reid. He didn’t need that kind of perfect.

  Nagging fear flooded her; she fished her phone out of her pocket and dialed. “Willow, where are you? Can you come back and pick me up at Reid’s office? I want to help with the case. I want to go back to where it happened and see if I can remember anything. The only way I’m ever going to get Wylie back is if I get these charges thrown out. I know it’s impossibly hard to believe me, but if anyone will, it’ll be you.”

  Chapter 17

  The memories did not come rushing back to Tara the way she’d hoped. The walk from the parking lot of the grocery store to the alley in which she was found felt completely unfamiliar. They took every possible route between the two destinations as Willow took note of any surveillance options that could be utilized.

  “You wait out here, I’m going to go talk to this consignment shop owner and see if these are dummy cams. If not, the footage could potentially be solid, considering it has at least a partial angle on the alley.”

  Tara nodded and looked up and down the street, knowing she should stay put. But the night after her arrest she’d tried to come back here. She was sure something would make sense upon seeing it. But she never made it into the alley. Something had spooked her, a hobbled mass shuffling down behind the trash cans.

  Now in the light of day nothing was moving. With an urgency driven by nerves, she crossed the street and headed between the two large brick apartment buildings. The police tape had been torn down, but fragments of it still clung to the dirty metal loops on the dumpster. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying to engage any of her senses. But to no avail. Nothing about this was familiar.

  “No cats,” a gravelly voice echoed down the alley, sending Tara jumping backward and cracking her elbow against one of the walls.

  “Ow,” she whined, clutching her throbbing arm. “Who’s there?” She scanned the piles of debris and looked for any sign of life. There was a rattling movement under a large blue tarp a few feet from her. She edged back from it slowly, her breath catching in her throat.

  “No cats,” the voice repeated as the tarp yanked back and a clump of matted gray hair sprung out.

  “I’m not a cat,” Tara forced out, shivering with fear.

  The woman’s face was now out in the light, her eyes squinting against the sharp rays of the midday sun. “Alive?” she asked, shuffling toward Tara, her blue tarp tucked below her arm. Three clicks and a whooping noise escaped the woman’s wrinkled lips as her head twitched to the side violently. It looked like a demonic possession, and the hair on Tara’s neck was standing straight up.

  “Are you all right?” Tara asked, reaching a hand out and pulling it back quickly, unsure of how a touch might trigger the woman to be more upset.

  “Alive? The dumpster didn’t eat you?” She pointed a curled finger in the direction of the dumpster Tara had been found under.

  “You were here?” she asked, looking at the pile of garbage the woman had crawled out of. “Have you talked to the police already? Has anyone else come by to talk to you about what you saw?”

  “No cats,” she replied, another twitch sending her knotted hair jumping. “No talking. No one talks to me.”

  “I’ll talk to you,” Tara said, trying to strip away the unease in her voice. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?”

  “Feed the cats,” she said, touching her stomach and smiling. “Hungry.”

  Tara yanked her bag off her shoulder and dug through it quickly. Since she’d become a mother she was rarely without snacks. Pulling out a squished granola bar, she unwrapped it and handed it over. “My name is Tara, what’s your name?”

  “Tara,” the woman replied.

  “Your name is Tara?” she asked, trying not to be affected by the woman’s manic toothless smile as she shoved the granola bar in her mouth.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding adamantly, then clicked and whooped some more.

  “What’s going on?” Willow’s voice cut in and sent the jumpy woman springing backward, pulling the tarp quickly over her head. Standing like a statue she attempted to hide in plain sight.

  “This woman saw what happened that night. I don’t think anyone else has interviewed her yet. She was right there behind that garbage and stuff. I think she lives there. We have to talk to her.”

  “Tara,” Willow said quietly, “are you saying the woman with the tarp on her head who is apparently clucking like a chicken is a witness you’d like me to interview?”

  “Yes,” Tara replied directly. “She saw me under the dumpster.”

  “Miss,” Willow started, looking skeptically at the heap in front of her. “May I ask you some questions?” She was met with only silence as the blue tarp shuffled backward.

  “No cats,” Tara said quickly. “No cats allowed.”

  The tarp stopped abruptly and peeled
back, exposing the watery blue eyes and red cheeks. “No cats,” she parroted back. “Dumpster ate you.”

  Willow opened her mouth but snapped it shut abruptly, trying to take in the being in front of her.

  “But it didn’t eat me,” Tara assured the woman. “See I’m right here. Do you remember what happened that night? How did I get under the dumpster?”

  “He fed you to it,” she said as though the answer should have been apparent. She whooped and croaked a few times, rolling her neck awkwardly.

  “Who did?” Willow asked, finding her voice again. “There was a man here?”

  “What was I doing?” Tara asked, stepping out in front of Willow. “Was I awake? Did he carry me here?”

  “We need a description of the man,” Willow whispered harshly. “Nothing else matters.”

  “Sleepwalking cat,” she said, slumping her shoulders and head and moving like a zombie for a few beats. “Sleepwalking cat eaten by the dumpster.”

  “The man,” Willow asked quickly. “What did he look like?”

  “Vampire,” the woman shrugged casually, “vampire.”

  “How tall was he?” Willow asked, holding a hand up at different points to try to get the woman’s input but she batted the hand down.

  “No cats,” she muttered as she moved past them down into the street.

  “Wait,” Tara pleaded but the shuffle only grew faster as she moved away.

  “No cats,” she shrieked loud enough to freeze Tara and Willow in their tracks. There was no stopping the woman who was in the closest thing to a run she could manage.

  “Let her go,” Willow said, catching Tara’s elbow. “It’s not like we could put her on the stand. She’s not stable or sane.”

  “Hey,” a gruff voice rattled behind them. “You looking to score?” he asked just above a whisper now. “I’ve got anything you want.”