custody of the child. This temporary injunction could be requested by any interested party—parent, relatives, foster care, social workers, even the court itself. It granted the court time to determine whether the child was endangered in any way. In this case, the court would require the child to be returned from Germany and delivered into the court’s care, from which a custody ruling would be made.
“Sounds reasonable,” Judge Sears said. “Mr. Caisse?”
“We object in the strongest possible terms, your honor. Because of the seriousness of the situation that would face the child if returned to the father, we ask that you hear what my two witnesses have to say.”
She glanced at Marcus, waiting for an objection. But Marcus remained uncertain what path to take. Given enough room, he was certain Hamper Caisse would grant him the perfect out.
“Proceed, Mr. Caisse.”
“I call Bert Warner to the stand.”
The assistant chief of Wilmington’s fire department was a veteran of hundreds of courtroom battles. Yet his bland Southern drone could not remove the potent quality of that night. By the time he finished describing what he had found at the Steadman dwelling, the crammed courtroom held to a rare hushed state. “We searched the house and found no sign of anyone. Then we discovered Mr. Steadman passed out on his back lawn. We weren’t certain exactly what he was saying, but we gathered the child had been taken somewhere by the mother.The man was so drunk or drugged we had to wake him up four different times. Each time he just repeated himself, saying something about the child, then passed out again.”
Hamper Caisse found one word to be especially delicious. “Drugged.”
“We found no sign of illegal substances in the house. And the man smelled of alcohol. But he was so far gone …” The chief shrugged. “The fourth time we woke him up, he spent a while surveying the house, then asked us to help him back to his boat. He passed out again there.”
“You made this journey up from Wilmington on your own accord and at your own expense, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Could you tell the court why?”
“I have three daughters of my own. The youngest has just turned two.”
Hamper resumed his seat. “Your witness.”
Marcus’ natural curiosity overcame the desire to distance himself. “Sir, did you happen to find any evidence of the fire being deliberately set?”
“Nothing that first night. When we returned the next day, Mr. Steadman had already called in workers. Mr. Steadman said he would cover the cost of reconstruction himself, rather than wait for us and the insurance people to sign off on our investigation.” His tone expressed clearly what he thought of the whole process. “Said he wanted to have the place ready when his daughter returned. Which is why I decided to come and testify.”
“No further questions.”
“You may step down, Mr. Warner.”
“Your honor, I call Russell Dermont to the stand.”
Dermont was an oddly assembled man. He matched Marcus’ six-four frame, but draped it with an additional hundred and fifty pounds of pure lard. His chin was lost in the pouch that obliterated the knot of his tie. His silver hair formed a waxed wave over a very large dome. His palm-sized ears were so flat they looked webbed to his skull. Delicate lips appeared stolen from a smaller woman.
“You are chairman of Dermont Industries, is that not correct?”
“Yes.”
“You also served three terms as president of the Wilmington Chamber of Commerce.”
“That’s right.”
“We are indeed most grateful that you would take the time to join us today, sir.” Hamper rose and began pacing. Each foot was lifted with exaggerated care, his knobby knees bunching beneath the shimmering suit. “How long have you known Dale Steadman?”
“Ever since he was the star fullback at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington. Met him a few times, usually when he was invited to some city
“Sounds reasonable,” Judge Sears said. “Mr. Caisse?”
“We object in the strongest possible terms, your honor. Because of the seriousness of the situation that would face the child if returned to the father, we ask that you hear what my two witnesses have to say.”
She glanced at Marcus, waiting for an objection. But Marcus remained uncertain what path to take. Given enough room, he was certain Hamper Caisse would grant him the perfect out.
“Proceed, Mr. Caisse.”
“I call Bert Warner to the stand.”
The assistant chief of Wilmington’s fire department was a veteran of hundreds of courtroom battles. Yet his bland Southern drone could not remove the potent quality of that night. By the time he finished describing what he had found at the Steadman dwelling, the crammed courtroom held to a rare hushed state. “We searched the house and found no sign of anyone. Then we discovered Mr. Steadman passed out on his back lawn. We weren’t certain exactly what he was saying, but we gathered the child had been taken somewhere by the mother.The man was so drunk or drugged we had to wake him up four different times. Each time he just repeated himself, saying something about the child, then passed out again.”
Hamper Caisse found one word to be especially delicious. “Drugged.”
“We found no sign of illegal substances in the house. And the man smelled of alcohol. But he was so far gone …” The chief shrugged. “The fourth time we woke him up, he spent a while surveying the house, then asked us to help him back to his boat. He passed out again there.”
“You made this journey up from Wilmington on your own accord and at your own expense, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Could you tell the court why?”
“I have three daughters of my own. The youngest has just turned two.”
Hamper resumed his seat. “Your witness.”
Marcus’ natural curiosity overcame the desire to distance himself. “Sir, did you happen to find any evidence of the fire being deliberately set?”
“Nothing that first night. When we returned the next day, Mr. Steadman had already called in workers. Mr. Steadman said he would cover the cost of reconstruction himself, rather than wait for us and the insurance people to sign off on our investigation.” His tone expressed clearly what he thought of the whole process. “Said he wanted to have the place ready when his daughter returned. Which is why I decided to come and testify.”
“No further questions.”
“You may step down, Mr. Warner.”
“Your honor, I call Russell Dermont to the stand.”
Dermont was an oddly assembled man. He matched Marcus’ six-four frame, but draped it with an additional hundred and fifty pounds of pure lard. His chin was lost in the pouch that obliterated the knot of his tie. His silver hair formed a waxed wave over a very large dome. His palm-sized ears were so flat they looked webbed to his skull. Delicate lips appeared stolen from a smaller woman.
“You are chairman of Dermont Industries, is that not correct?”
“Yes.”
“You also served three terms as president of the Wilmington Chamber of Commerce.”
“That’s right.”
“We are indeed most grateful that you would take the time to join us today, sir.” Hamper rose and began pacing. Each foot was lifted with exaggerated care, his knobby knees bunching beneath the shimmering suit. “How long have you known Dale Steadman?”
“Ever since he was the star fullback at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington. Met him a few times, usually when he was invited to some city
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