Red (Hell’s Jury MC #5)

27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

Stella

In the hall, Meredith, Lachlan and I discuss next steps. “You have to surrender, Sorcha, Lachlan. Otherwise, you’ll be arrested. You absolutely do not want to go to prison over this.”

I lean into Lachlan, holding his arm to steady him. He’s shaking. “This is so fucked up,” he says. “Sorcha’s not gonna understand.”

“Maybe we can get her released into your parents’ custody,” Meredith says to me.

Trula walks out of the courtroom and we all glare at her. “Sorry, Meredith. You win some, you lose some.”

“This is not a fucking competition, Trula,” Meredith replies. “A child’s future is at stake.”

Trula scurries away, but I easily catch up to her. There are advantages to being tall with long strides.

“I’d like to talk to you before you leave,” I tell her softly as I outpace her, then turn to face her, essentially blocking her path.

She tilts her face up. “You’re threatening me. I will not hesitate to report you.”

“Is it because I’m so tall that you feel threatened? If I were your height, would you be making that accusation?”

“Say your piece and get out of my way.”

“Thank you.” I keep my voice mild despite seething inside. I’m also on the verge of tears again. “I’m disappointed in you more than anything else. You’re a woman in a man’s world and you’re as misogynist as so many men. Suggesting that I would be unable to look after Sorcha because of my career. That’s ridiculous and you know it.”

“Where’s your engagement ring?”

I look at my finger. “I don’t wear rings during the season. They could cause injuries to other players.” I show her my nails. “Most basketball players keep them short too, out of respect for their colleagues.”

“You do understand that has nothing to do with what happened today?”

“You do understand that what happened today has nothing to do with me wearing rings and yet you asked me. Are you digging for more ammunition to undermine Lachlan?”

She narrows her eyes. “Lachlan is a known felon, runs with a dangerous gang and I’ll do anything to make sure Sorcha’s safe from him.”

Lachlan comes up behind Trula. “Let’s go, Stella. Life is too short to give this woman airtime.”

I nod because he’s right.

As we head toward the car, Lachlan’s phone rings. He picks up the call then walks away.

As I’m waiting, my phone rings too. It’s my dad. “Stella, you and Lachlan come over please.”

“Do you think that’s wise? With Sorcha there?”

“It doesn’t matter if Lachlan comes over since he has until Monday to surrender her.” His dispassionate delivery makes me flinch.

“Okay. We’ll see you soon.”

Lachlan is tucking his phone away as he returns to me. “That was the coroner. They’re releasing mom’s body.” He crosses his arms as he leans against the Mustang. “I don’t know what to do next.”

I snuggle into him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Mom and dad will know. They want us to come over.”

He brushes his hands over my hair. “Yeah. I miss Sorcha. I gotta spend every minute with her that I can.”

We’re lost in our thoughts driving to mom and dad’s. My heart is breaking, my stomach hurts. The world beyond our little piece of it doesn’t matter. I think about Trula and Meredith and their rivalry. Is Meredith working in the best interests of Lachlan, Sorcha and Gabby, or is she just trying to win? I guess, as long as she’s on our side, it doesn’t matter.

Then I think about my Dad. The most honest guy in the world. I’ve heard mom accuse him of wearing rose-colored glasses because he has a deep-seated respect for a corrupted system. He agrees with mom’s assessment but says he works within it to keep the world safe, one criminal at a time. I’m proud of him; I want to be like him.

When we get to the house, I squeeze Lachlan’s hand. “Don’t get upset when you talk to Sorcha. Try to make it seem like a good thing.”

“It’s not a good thing and she’ll know.”

“Yeah.”

The house is quiet when we walk inside. No Sorcha running to greet us. No mom fussing over me and Lachlan. “Hello?”

“In the study,” dad calls.

“Hi,” I say as we walk in. I get my height from my dad, so between him, me, and Lachlan, it’s like we’re meeting in a coffin.

Dad doesn’t seem to notice.

“Sit down.” His voice is so neutral, I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

Lachlan is looking at him warily. “Where’s Sorcha?”

“I asked Sherri to take her out for ice cream, so we can talk. They’ll be back in an hour.”

Lachlan thins his lips but doesn’t reply.

Dad takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “First of all, we are not going to surrender Sorcha on Monday.”

My eyes sting at dad’s use of ‘we’. I love him more than I have ever loved him. And mom too, because he wouldn’t have made this decision without her.

“What?” Lachlan says. He’s eyeing dad like he’s gone mad.

Dad takes a breath as he picks up a file. Lachlan’s file. “I read through this and as a prosecutor, I’m appalled. Juvie record that was sealed. No other priors. A shit car. Victimless crime. As a prosecutor, at most I would have insisted on parole and community service. You were barely a man. You had a family to support.”

He throws the file on his desk in disgust but has more to say. “Your defense lawyer, Alan Lunguist. He’s with a big firm. This would have been pro bono - on the side of his desk while he dealt with paying clients. He clearly wasn’t interested in your case. I will be speaking with him and the partners. But despite that, and even if prosecution asked for a maximum sentence, Judge Harris handed down the sentence. It doesn’t matter what the prosecutor wants, the judge makes the final decision.”

Dad sits back and waits, maybe for one of us to speak.

Lachlan shifts in his chair. “I never denied what I did.”

“Which is another reason to slap your wrist.”

“That’s good to know,” I say. “But how does that help us?”

He waves his hand at the files and papers on his desk, then says to Lachlan, “I’ve been reviewing precedents in cases like yours. What happened to you was bullshit.” He shakes his head. “I can’t figure out how Trula Hyack can declare you a dangerous criminal even with your association with Hell’s Jury. And as misguided as she is, Renault should not have sided with her.”

“Why didn’t Meredith pursue this?” I ask, going back to my previous thoughts about Meredith’s motives.

“Because Meredith is an advocate for parents trying to get access to their children. Her caseload is staggering.”

“So’s yours,” I reply, not mollified by his reply.

“I have a special interest in this situation.” He looks at Lachlan. “Or am I reading it wrong?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Are you and my daughter engaged?”

“Not yet.”

I brace myself for the dad lecture about lying, but it doesn’t come. Instead he says, “Monday morning, I’ll be filing an injunction, preventing Trula from seizing Sorcha on the basis that both she and the judge have labelled you a dangerous offender. Your record doesn’t support that supposition. I’ll also add that the 18-month sentence handed to you for the theft of the car was unjust. That in both instances you were being penalized for your size.” He looks Lachlan over. “Then I’m going to get your conviction overturned.”

For the first time today, Lachlan looks hopeful. “You’re confident it can be done?”

Dad smiles at Lachlan and my heart lurches. “I’d do anything for Stella.”

Lachlan takes my hand. “So would I.”

“Make sure you do,” dad replies tersely. “I need to work. But know this. Given the time you’ve served, I’m going to insist the courts expunge your record. I have a good friend who is also an excellent attorney, and if we don’t get what we want, we’ll file a lawsuit.”

“Thank you, dad,” I say.

“Thank you,” Lachlan says. He’s on the verge of tears.

Dad waves us off. “I’ve talked to Meredith already about your daughter, Gabby. I let her know what I was doing. I told her to give me a week, then she’ll have the ammunition to get you unsupervised visiting rights.”

Lachlan runs a hand his over his face, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know how to ever repay you for this.”

“Don’t fuck with my daughter. That’s how you can repay me.”

The front door slams catching our attention.

“Grampa! Look what the gramma got me,” Sorcha yells as she thunders down the hall. She turns into his office, sees Lachlan and drops the stuffy she’s holding. “Lachlan!” she squeals, jumping on his lap. “Where’ve you been?”

Lachlan hugs her to him. “Dealing with some stuff. Work and all.”

“Are you gonna stay now?” She squeezes his face then plants a kiss on his lips.

“For a while, then I gotta go.”

Her face reddens. “No.’

I run my hand down her hair. “He’ll be back more often. He has work and he needs to get your home ready for you to move in.”

“No,” Sorcha says, then after a moment of thought, adds, “Let’s all stay here with the gramma and grampa.” She turns to mom as she walks in the office. “Can we all stay here, gramma?”

Mom wrinkles her nose. “It smells like gym socks and sweat in here. Let’s take this conversation to the living room.”

Sorcha pops off Lachlan’s lap as she grabs mom’s hand. “Can we all stay here, gramma. Please?”

“There’s not enough room,” mom murmurs.

Lachlan and I follow as she leads Sorcha to the living room and points out the window. “You see that house across the street? That’ll be your new home soon.”

Sorcha looks at it doubtfully. “It’s not as nice as your house.”

Lachlan kneels beside her. “That’s why I gotta fix it up before you move in.”

Her eyes shine with delight. “Then I can just cross the street and visit the gramma and grampa when I want to?”

“As long as you look both ways for cars coming,” mom says.

That’s my mom. Either a caution or a lesson. Of course she’s right.

Lachlan stands and takes Sorcha’s hand. “Let’s go across and look inside. I’ll show you where your bedroom’s gonna be.”

“Yay!” Sorcha says as she pumps her fist in the air. She scrambles to the hall and shoves her shoes on the wrong feet, glares at them when she takes a step, then sits down and corrects her error.

Mom glances at her watch. “Come back for lunch. I’ll make some soup and sandwiches.”

Lachlan scratches his ear as he looks bemused. I don’t think he knows what to do with all this domesticity. “Will do,” he says as he picks up Sorcha.

“Are you coming too?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “I’m gonna help the gramma make sandwiches. That way you and your brother can spend some you-time together.”

“Let’s go, Lachlan,” Sorcha sings as they leave the house. “So we can spend some you-time together.”

Mom turns to me as the voices fade. “Quit calling me the gramma. There is no article in front of gramma.”

“Well, there should be,” I reply.