“I don’t like it either.” She studied her name in block letters. “I’m going to open it.”
The envelope wasn’t sealed, just closed with the metal clasp. She straightened the flattened clasp and lifted the flap to draw out the contents. “There are two pages.” She studied the top one. “The first is a prisoner record for an inmate in Louisiana. Francois Dubois.” She turned the paper around to face the camera on her computer so Hez could see. “Could he be related to Martine?”
He frowned and leaned closer, then shrugged. “It’s possible. What’s the other document?”
“It’s a handwritten note in a foreign language—French, I think. I can’t pronounce it.” She held it up to the camera.
He squinted and leaned close to the screen.“‘Papa, je te protégerai. Je ferai ce qu’ils veulent.’My French isn’t great, but I think it means ‘Papa, I’ll protect you. I’ll do whatever they want.’”
“Papa! I’ll bet Francois is Martine’s dad. Can you find out? Maybe Hope could tell you.”
“It would make sense. Maybe Martine set me up to save her father. Snap a picture of the documents and email them to me. I’ll send them to Hope. The big question is, who dropped them at your door?”
She took in the block letters on the manila envelope. “I—I think maybe it was Nora. She promised to help me find Martine.”
“But Nora’s in jail.”
“She still has friends in the police department.” Savannah leaned forward and stared into the camera, willing Hez to see how much this meant to her. If they were together in person, she knew she could convince him. “She should get bail on Monday, right?”
“Probably. She’s charged with a felony, so it won’t be low.”
“She hardly has any money. It’s not fair that she’ll be stuck in jail just because she’s poor.”
The furrow on his brow deepened. “Babe, I see where your thoughts are going. Bailing her out won’t be cheap. We’ve dropped most of our savings on the down payment for the house and even more on renovations. I’m estimating bail might be as much as fifteen grand.”
She winced, but the cost didn’t sway her. “We’ve got that much in our wedding fund. We’ll get it back at trial, right?”
“If she shows up.”
“She will.” Her fingers touched the bracelet on her wrist. “I’m sure she sent this information. I can’t stand by and let her rot in jail for something I don’t think she would do.”
He sighed. “I won’t fight you on this. We can get a home-equity loan for the wedding if we have to.”
She made a kissing sound in the air. “I wish you were here so I could thank you properly.”
The tension left his face when he smiled and touched the screen as if he were touching her lips. “Me too, babe, me too. It’s going to be a long weekend without you.”
Chapter 29
Hez leaned back and groaned. Birds sang outside the Justice Chamber’s open trefoil window, and late-May sunshine cast warm golden bars across the floor and touched the edge of the much-used plywood desk. The scent of sun-warmed grass wafted in on a gentle breeze. It was a beautiful day, but the bad news on the monitor in front of him cast a pall over it all.
Hez reread Scott Foster’s email. As expected, the probate judge had appointed a guardian ad litem for Simon in advance of the upcoming custody hearing. The guardian was a veteran social worker and attorney named Janet Henderson. She had already visited Michael Willard’s home to meet Simon and observe his interactions with the family—without notifying Scott in advance. When Scott complained, Henderson explained that it was “just an informal visit” because she was stopping by anyway to see Helen Willard, a friend from church.
Scott planned to ask the judge to appoint a new guardian, but he didn’t have high hopes. Henderson was qualified, and the judge wasn’t likely to replace her just because she had an undisclosed preliminary interaction with Simon and was friends with a relative of someone connected to the adoption. Nova Cambridge and Pelican Harbor weren’t big places—theodds of finding a qualified guardian candidate who had no contacts at all with a large local family weren’t great.
Hez stood and paced the small room, drawing creaks from the old floorboards under the thin carpet. The guardian issue was aggravating, but it wouldn’t matter. Not once Michael was behind bars for extortion, smuggling, and possibly more. Henderson couldn’t recommend that Michael get custody under those circumstances. Hez and Savannah just needed to make sure she felt comfortable recommending them. So they needed to be nice and cooperative—despite her actions so far. Just like they needed to be nice and cooperative with Erik Andersen and find a way to cajole him into consenting to the adoption without giving him Simon’s trust fund. Hez grimaced at the thought, but he’d find a way to do it for Simon.
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. Hope. His heart rate ticked up. Was she about to tell him Michael had just been arrested?
He accepted the call. “Hey. What’s up?”
“When was the last time you had any contact with Erik Andersen?”
Hez thought for a moment. “Right before I told you about him.”
“Have you seen him since then?”
He didn’t like the direction of her questions. “No. Why?”
