The next page was written in 1987.
$10 million in TGU’s coffers! A generous gift from the Willards in memory of Helen’s daughter and grandson. I can put the money they got from the malpractice suit to much better use than her sons. They must be such a disappointment to her.
Such callous boasting. Reading her father’s journal made her feel dirty and guilty, and she almost shoved it aside but made herself turn to the next page dated a month after her birth.
My private burdens make it difficult to accomplish the great works set before me. Marie blows hot and cold between depression and condescension. She insists on thinking the worst of me and locks me out of the bedroom. It’s hardly my fault that women can’t keep their hands off me.
She barely speaks to me since Savannah was born, and I caught her with a bottle of pills yesterday. She saw me watching her and dumped them down the kitchen sink. She had the nerve to say shecouldn’t leave our daughter in my care. Like she’s any kind of a decent mother. All she does is cry and watch me with accusing eyes.
Besides, I’ve heard rumors she’s been dallying with Michael Willard, so she has no moral high ground. She denied it when I confronted her, but I’m not so sure. It would be just like Michael to use Marie to get back at me. He’s full of hate after the misunderstanding about his sister’s settlement. He’d like nothing more than to humiliate me by shaming me with my wife. She’s a beautiful, fragile flower, and she could be crushed by—
The door opened behind Savannah, and Hez burst into the room. Her gut clenched at the sight of his agitated expression. She rose to face him. “What’s wrong?”
“Michael filed his own adoption petition—and Erik has agreed to it.”
She pressed her hand against her heart where it hammered against her chest wall. “We can still fight it.”
“We can try, but I don’t think we can win, Savannah. I’ll talk to Scott, but...” He gave a helpless shrug.
The anguish in Hez’s face hammered home the truth. They were going to lose Simon.
“What are our odds?” Still warm after a run with Hope, Hez tugged on the collar of his shirt.
Scott frowned and drummed long, bony fingers on his walnut desk. “Of getting your petition granted without Andersen’s consent? Probably zero now that he provided a DNA test confirming he’s Simon’s father. You might be able to defeat the Willard petition, but that will depend on the evidence we can present.”
Hez’s ears perked up. “What kind of evidence would that take?”
Scott shrugged thin shoulders. “Proof that letting Michael Willard adopt Simon wouldn’t be in his best interests. The judge is supposed to consider anything relevant to Simon’s best interests, so we can put on basically whatever evidence we want as long as it’s arguably tied to Simon’s well-being. Also, the court will appoint a guardian ad litem for Simon, so we’ll want to persuade both the guardian and the judge.”
Hez chewed that over for a moment. “Several drivers for Michael’s trucking company got caught smuggling artifacts a few months ago, and law enforcement raided the company. Michael and the company weren’t indicted, but maybe they were just more careful than the others. Plus, I’ve heard rumors that Michael has other criminal ties.”
Scott shifted, drawing a creak from his leather chair. “I’ve heard the same rumors—but rumors won’t do us any good in court, of course.”
“Of course. If we can get admissible evidence to back up those rumors, would that be enough?”
Scott stared into the middle distance for a moment, rocking his chair as he thought. “Probably. It would depend on how good the evidence is, but it should be easy to persuadethe judge that Simon’s best interests aren’t served by letting a career criminal adopt him.”
Hez’s spirits lifted. Building a criminal case was his strong suit. Maybe he’d even find enough evidence to get Michael arrested. He got up, eager to get started. “Great, I’ll start digging.”
Scott rose and walked him to the door. “You know you’ll be digging in a minefield, right?”
“Because Michael is a dangerous guy?” Hez shrugged. “I’m used to dealing with those.”
Scott’s gaze went to the left side of Hez’s head, where a craniotomy scar peeked out of his hairline. “And you almost died not too long ago, right?”
Hez’s stomach muscles tensed at the memory. “I’ll be careful.”
Scott gave him a grave final stare. “Good. Let me know how it goes.”
Hez walked out into the warm spring sunshine. A gentle sea breeze blew down the street from Bon Secour Bay, carrying the mingled scents of salt and coffee from the French Quarter cafés. Smooth melodies floated down from a second-story apartment where a skilled jazz pianist practiced. It was a nice day.
Hez had been about to go back to campus and put in a few hours of work before spending the evening investigating Michael Willard. But maybe a coffee and a walk on the beach would be better—especially if Savannah could join him. They had a lot to talk about.
A silver Mercedes E 350 pulled to the curb beside him. The passenger window slid down and Pierre Legare smiled at Hez from the driver’s seat. His perfect teeth and white polocontrasted with his tan. Aviator sunglasses hid his brown eyes. “Can I give you a ride back to campus?”
Hez didn’t really want to talk to anyone except Savannah, least of all her father. “No, thanks. I was about to grab a cup of coffee and head for the beach.”
“Great, I’ll join you.” The window slid up before Hez could respond, and Pierre turned off the engine.
