book with her, she declined, asking him to hold on to them until she had a chance to talk with her husband and lawyer. The thought crossed her mind—and she couldn’t dismiss it, not when she knew what had really happened to her sister—that Alex would begin to harass her for the documents as soon as she left the lawyer’s office. No, they—and she—would be much safer if the will and bank book were someplace where Alex couldn’t get at them.
“Thank—thank you for your time,” Cindy said feebly.
She turned and started to leave, making a point of avoiding any eye contact with Alex, who she felt was glaring at her. At the door, she stopped and looked back at Krendall. “Mr. Krendall,” she said in a tight, trembling voice. “You used the phrase ‘the best interest of the children’.”
“Yes. That’s a legal phrase judges often use in custody situations.”
Cindy nodded and, in a voice that warbled nervously up and down the scale, echoed herself. “The best interest of the children…”
Krendall looked at her expectantly, but she turned and left the office, unable to finish what she had intended to say— The best interest of the children. Mr. Krendall, would be to get them the hell out of the house of the man who murdered their mother!
Chapter Three
Plotting
“G od damn it, I tell you, those kids are in danger,” Cindy told her husband. “I’ve been wanting to see them, to spend some time with them, but I … I just can’t. Not when their father’s around, anyway.”
The night was hot and pressing. The rattle of the air conditioner in the bedroom window was grating on her nerves. Harry sat propped up in the bed, reading a hardware trade magazine by the light of a small reading lamp above him while Cindy continuously paced back and forth across the hardwood floor.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting… I mean, just a little bit, honey?” Harry said, his pale eyes glancing up over the tops of his reading glasses.
Cindy heard more than a trace of exasperation in his voice; but after a full day working at the store and then the two hour meeting with their lawyer after supper, what else did she expect?
The meeting this afternoon with Roy Krendall had put a cold, sick worry in her stomach—and the meeting with William Holder earlier this evening hadn’t helped her to feel any better. Although Holder had assured her that, in his opinion, she had a better than fifty-fifty chance of getting the court to grant her custody, he told her what Krendall had already told her—if Alex decided to dig in his heels and fight this, it was going to be a long, involved, and expensive case.
As she paced, she licked her dry lips. Her breathing came in rapid, shallow sips, as if the air were water and she couldn’t quite quench her thirst.
“I don’t think so… I just don’t think so,” she muttered, shaking her head.
She had exploded at Harry earlier that day, cursing at him and crying because he hadn’t come to the lawyer’s office with her. She told herself that he was probably trying to remain calm and steady because he could see that she was falling apart. On the other hand Harry was acting so distant. Even if he didn’t believe that Alex had killed Debbie, the least he could do was acknowledge that Alex wasn’t the best person to raise Billy and Krissy. Her sister’s will had granted her custody of the kids, and— by Jesus! —whether Harry was going to help her out with this or not, she wanted them… now !
“Come on, Harry,” she pleaded, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. “Think back on how many times you told me how you could feel the bitterness and hostility between Alex and Debbie. Even when they weren’t yelling at each other, you have to admit there was always this undertone of hatred coming from him. Christ, just about every holiday or birthday we’d spend with them, you’d come away, vowing that you’d never go over to their house again. Why was
“Thank—thank you for your time,” Cindy said feebly.
She turned and started to leave, making a point of avoiding any eye contact with Alex, who she felt was glaring at her. At the door, she stopped and looked back at Krendall. “Mr. Krendall,” she said in a tight, trembling voice. “You used the phrase ‘the best interest of the children’.”
“Yes. That’s a legal phrase judges often use in custody situations.”
Cindy nodded and, in a voice that warbled nervously up and down the scale, echoed herself. “The best interest of the children…”
Krendall looked at her expectantly, but she turned and left the office, unable to finish what she had intended to say— The best interest of the children. Mr. Krendall, would be to get them the hell out of the house of the man who murdered their mother!
Chapter Three
Plotting
“G od damn it, I tell you, those kids are in danger,” Cindy told her husband. “I’ve been wanting to see them, to spend some time with them, but I … I just can’t. Not when their father’s around, anyway.”
The night was hot and pressing. The rattle of the air conditioner in the bedroom window was grating on her nerves. Harry sat propped up in the bed, reading a hardware trade magazine by the light of a small reading lamp above him while Cindy continuously paced back and forth across the hardwood floor.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting… I mean, just a little bit, honey?” Harry said, his pale eyes glancing up over the tops of his reading glasses.
Cindy heard more than a trace of exasperation in his voice; but after a full day working at the store and then the two hour meeting with their lawyer after supper, what else did she expect?
The meeting this afternoon with Roy Krendall had put a cold, sick worry in her stomach—and the meeting with William Holder earlier this evening hadn’t helped her to feel any better. Although Holder had assured her that, in his opinion, she had a better than fifty-fifty chance of getting the court to grant her custody, he told her what Krendall had already told her—if Alex decided to dig in his heels and fight this, it was going to be a long, involved, and expensive case.
As she paced, she licked her dry lips. Her breathing came in rapid, shallow sips, as if the air were water and she couldn’t quite quench her thirst.
“I don’t think so… I just don’t think so,” she muttered, shaking her head.
She had exploded at Harry earlier that day, cursing at him and crying because he hadn’t come to the lawyer’s office with her. She told herself that he was probably trying to remain calm and steady because he could see that she was falling apart. On the other hand Harry was acting so distant. Even if he didn’t believe that Alex had killed Debbie, the least he could do was acknowledge that Alex wasn’t the best person to raise Billy and Krissy. Her sister’s will had granted her custody of the kids, and— by Jesus! —whether Harry was going to help her out with this or not, she wanted them… now !
“Come on, Harry,” she pleaded, pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. “Think back on how many times you told me how you could feel the bitterness and hostility between Alex and Debbie. Even when they weren’t yelling at each other, you have to admit there was always this undertone of hatred coming from him. Christ, just about every holiday or birthday we’d spend with them, you’d come away, vowing that you’d never go over to their house again. Why was
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