Splitsville, page 6
He waved his hand in the air. “And while we’re at it, why don’t we go back to wearing suspenders and practicing out of our living rooms?”
She tried not to be irritated. More irritated than she already was. He always thought he knew more about everything than anyone else. “This isn’t what I—”
“And what’s this about a cult?”
How did he hear about that? “Are you talking about my new client?”
“Marjorie says she’s some kind of cult crazy.”
Kenzi felt her back stiffen. “She’s a chemist. A serious scientist with a young daughter. Her husband is trying to get custody.”
Her father leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. “Marjorie says she even has cult tattoos.”
“How would she—”
“I gather they’re visible on her wrist. Marjorie keeps her eyes open.”
She’d like to take Marjorie’s eyes and…but that was for another time. “Tattoos are common these days, Dad. Almost everyone my age has them.”
“Would you stop treating me like I’m 212? I’m aware that some people have decorative tattoos. Like you, for instance.”
Ouch. How did he find out—
“But most people don’t have cult emblems burned into their skin. Marjorie googled it. Your client is or was in Hexitel.”
“I know that.”
“So I assume you declined the case.”
Long painful pause. “No.”
He slapped his hand across his forehead. “You’re kidding me. You said yes to some Manson groupie?”
“She is not—” Kenzi drew in her breath. He was baiting her. She knew that. He was also trying to distract her, divert her, because he knew damn well what she came here to talk about. “She considers Hexitel her religion.”
“I don’t care if she considers it her grandmother. I don’t want her on our client list.”
“Look, it’s a simple case. I’ll offer the husband a fair settlement and he’ll go away. He’s mad now, but I can’t imagine he really wants to raise a young child by himself. I can probably wrap it up in a single settlement meeting.”
“Which is exactly the wrong way to practice law. Haven’t I taught you anything? Have you sent discovery requests? This man may have skeletons in the closet you know nothing about. What about a motion for attorneys fees? Or a motion to disqualify opposing counsel?”
“You know those would fail.”
“A lawyer is obligated to try everything that might benefit his client.”
“A lawyer is not obligated to run up fees chasing ghosts. That’s the Old School way of practicing and it’s done a lot of damage to lawyer reputations. I won’t work that way.”
He shook his head slowly. “And that leads us, squarely and directly, to what you actually came in here to talk about.”
Son of a bitch. He’d seen her coming and outflanked her before she’d even begun to fight. “You’re saying you passed me over because I won’t inflate fees?”
“You’re not setting the right example. Your self-righteousness interferes with your duty.”
“My clients adore me.”
“This is a business, not a lovefest. Do you know how many people this firm employs?”
“Not exactly…”
“More than two hundred. That’s a lot of people depending upon you not to be arrogant, but to be a responsible businessperson who helps them pay their mortgage and keep the lights on.”
“Still sounds like you passed me over because I won’t bill bogus hours.”
Her father closed his eyes, as if he were meditating in his chair. A few moments later, he’d composed himself. “You are my daughter. I love you dearly. And I did not pass you over. Frankly, I don’t know why you ever thought you were in contention. Your brother was the obvious choice for the position.”
“Everyone in this firm thought I was going to be the next managing partner.”
“Are you sure about that? Or are you the one who assumed you were going to be the next managing partner? Because your ego blinded you to the realities most people could see more clearly.”
“I’m the top biller in the firm. And I have been for years.” She couldn’t resist. “Despite charging my clients a flat fee.”
“But you’re an island. Gabriel is a continent.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re a self-contained unit, having precious little to do with anyone else. Other lawyers like you, but they don’t really know you.”
“You’re saying I didn’t get the position because I have poor social skills? I have twenty-thousand Twitter followers!”
“That has nothing to do with real people, much less co-workers. You’re a lone wolf. And a loose cannon. Gabe is a leader.”
Her stomach was beginning to roil. She didn’t know how much more of this she could stand. “Gabe is an idiot!”
“Honey…”
“His billables are poor. His client list is short. The only reason he has clients at all is because you toss him work and don’t think I don’t know it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“How come you never sent any work my way?”
“Because you don’t need it. But if you’re pretending I’ve never done anything for you, sweetheart…grow up. I’ve always taken care of my family.”
“Including Mom?”
He sighed heavily. “That’s another big difference. You take after your mother. Gabriel takes after me.”
Kenzi felt as if she were about to explode. “You did this to punish me.”
“No. I did what I believe to be best for the firm. Gabriel will use this. He’ll take his heightened status and make the most of it. It will be good for him and it will be good for the firm.”
“So you gave him the job to boost his confidence?”
“In part. He has a family to support.”
“I have a family to support!” she screamed.
“It’s not the same. He’s a man. He’s the head of a household. He’s my natural heir. People expect to see him on top.”
“That is so sexist.”
“Maybe, but it’s true.”
“You always liked him best.”
Another deep sigh. “I have certainly done better with my sons than my daughters. That much is certain.”
“Gabe is an idiot. And you know it.”
Her father tossed his head to one side. “Is he as smart as you? Probably not. Does that mean he’s disqualified from running this firm? Absolutely not. People like him. He’s prominent in the Bar Association. This firm is important to him. He needs this.”
“And I don’t?”
His left eyebrow rose. “You have your KenziKlan.”
Kenzi shot to her feet. “This is without question the most infuriating conversation I’ve had in my entire life. I’m outta here.”
“Would you at least think about what I said? It might do you some good.”
“I will not bow down and become your obedient little girl.”
“All I want is what’s best for you.”
“Which would be what? Marry someone and bake cookies, while you and the men do all the hard work?”
“I didn’t say—”
“Here’s what you need to understand, Daddie Dearest. I will not take this lying down. If you don’t do right by me—I’ll go somewhere I’m better appreciated. I’ll start my own firm and take all your clients wiht me.”
“Kenzi…calm down.”
“I’ll fight you. One way or the other. Because that’s who I am. And you’re right—I did get that from my mother. We don’t let men push us around.”
She slammed her fist on his desk. “This isn’t over. You just wait and see.”
Kenzi stormed out of the office. Her head swam with so many simultaneous thoughts she couldn’t think straight. She needed an adult slushie (codename for frozen margarita) and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow morning, she’d start laying groundwork for her new firm—her own firm. Let the Good Old Boys have this rickety joint. It was about to become a dinosaur. Her firm would be mean and lean and built for the twenty-first century, not the Victorian Era.
She stopped by Sharon’s desk. “Girlfriend, we need a drink. How about a stop at the Ferry and I’ll tell you—”
Sharon cut her off, shoving a phone message into her hands. “Your new client called.”
“Maya? Why?”
“After she left here, she took Brittany to school, ran a few quick errands, and when she returned—her daughter wasn’t there.”
Chapter Ten
Kenzi blinked several times, trying to clear her head. Plunged from one crisis to the next. She could barely keep track of it all.
“Did her husband—”
“Yes. Michael says he took Brittany for her own safety. And get this—his lawyer got an emergency ex parte protective order. To shield Brittany from her own mother.”
Crozier. Bastard. “What possible grounds could he have for an emergency order?”
Sharon handed her a copy. “He says Maya has endangered Brittany’s life. By trying to indoctrinate her into a dangerous cult. Exposing her to immoral and sexually deviant behavior. And he specifically mentions Maya’s wife.”
Kenzi lit into the principal of Bakerfield Country Day School.
“I can’t believe you don’t have better security protocols. You’ve placed a young child in serious danger.”
“We do have protocols. Nothing untoward is ever allowed—”
“My client’s child was abducted!”
The principal, Dr. Laurel Thomas, was obviously striving to remain calm. “No. She was picked up by her father. Unusual, true, but he showed his ID and the child recognized him. He was on the pickup list signed by both parents.”
Kenzi took a moment to gain perspective. Principal Thomas was about twenty years older, heavier, and seated behind a desk. She was clearly accustomed to dealing with difficult parents and probably had several lawyer encounters under her belt, too. Aggression and incrimination weren’t going to get Kenzi anywhere.
She tried another tack. “Brittany’s father has a history of aggression. Of hitting his wife, to be blunt.”
“I knew nothing about that. And even if I had, I can’t withhold a child from a parent based on rumors. I could do it if I had a court order. But you haven’t brought me one. Not before and not now.”
“Did he say where they were going?”
“I wasn’t present, but the teacher on pickup duty said they were going home.”
“He’s not there.” He’d taken Brittany somewhere else. Someplace Maya couldn’t find them. “This is an extremely serious situation. The child is in grave danger. It’s basically a kidnapping.”
“Didn’t you say the father has a court order?”
“An ex parte emergency order. Which I will get quashed the second the judge returns to his office.”
Principal Thomas held out her hands, palms up. “I’m sorry, but we have not done anything improper. And there’s nothing I can do to help you at this point.”
Kenzi glanced at her phone. Maya had called about a thousand times, hoping for information about Brittany. “If you see that man again, like if he brings her back to school tomorrow, I want you to call me.”
“I can do that. But…”
She didn’t have to complete the sentence. Kenzi knew what it would be.
They both thought it was extremely unlikely that would happen. Michael had taken his daughter for a reason. And he wasn’t going to give Maya a chance to get her back.
First thing next morning, Kenzi managed to get Judge Benetti on a Zoom call. He was gray-haired, sixtyish, and tended to be cranky even when someone wasn’t interrupting his breakfast. She was careful to dial it down and act appreciative.
“First of all, Ms. Rivera, where is opposing counsel?”
“I haven’t been able to get a call back from my disgust—er, distinguished opponent.”
“So this is an ex parte meeting. I can’t do that.”
“You did it when you granted my client’s husband a custody order.”
“They said it was an emergency situation. That the child was in danger. And they had evidence to prove it.”
“Like what?”
Judge Benetti rifled through the papers on his desk. “Like apparently your client is in a cult.”
“It’s a church. That’s her religion. Are we stealing children from their mothers when we don’t like their religion?”
“They say it’s a cult with dangerous and immoral practices. And your client was trying to indoctrinate her daughter.”
“That’s completely bogus.”
The judge’s eyelids fluttered. “I have set this matter down for a full hearing next week. At that time, you can make your arguments and present whatever evidence you have. But I will warn you—don’t make light of this cult business. We just got past NXIVM. No way I’m going to let a child be exposed to the next generation of craziness.”
“Hexitel is completely different. And the father is the dangerous one. Violent. He—”
On her laptop screen, Kenzi could see the judge raise his hand. “No more, Ms. Rivera. If you have evidence, present it at the hearing. I can’t do anything based on hearsay. You know that very well.”
“I have to alert the court of any potential danger—”
“If there’s so much danger, why wasn’t your client the one who came to court for a protective order?”
Damn. “I hadn’t had time.” Because she prioritized yelling at her father. Like that did a lot of good. “Your honor, I would not say this if it weren’t true. Her father is a far greater danger to the child than her mother’s religion.”
“Then you may make that argument at the hearing.”
“And until then?”
“Let’s hope for the best. I’ll see you in court.”
The Zoom connection went black.
Kenzi pounded on her desk in frustration. But she knew that wouldn’t help. She was going to have to deal with this. Immediately. Everything else had to go on the back burner. This case was Priority One. Maya would freak when she heard she wouldn’t see Brittany for a week, so Kenzi would set up a settlement meeting before they even got to the hearing.
And that meant she had a lot of work to do.
Chapter Eleven
Kenzi arrived at her office feeling overwhelmed, like she barely had her head on straight. She’d spent the last several days trying unsuccessfully to locate Brittany and to make sure she was safe. So far she’d accomplished nothing. Crozier wouldn’t tell her a thing except that the child was unharmed—and everything else was confidential. Michael had legal possession of the child. Maya said Brittany had used her father’s phone and texted her once. The girl was traumatized and terrified—but there was nothing they could do about it.
Kenzi had managed to schedule a settlement conference and she hoped they could make progress. Maybe even resolve the entire case. At the very least, lay some ground rules and establish a visitation schedule so Maya could see her daughter.
Sharon didn’t wait to be asked. She pointed down the corridor when Kenzi approached her desk. “In there.”
“Already?”
“Yeah. The Spawn of Satan rises early.”
She suppressed a grin. “You probably need to stop saying that. At least when he’s around.”
“Appropriate though, isn’t it? The Spawn of Satan reps the babynapper.”
“Stop. I have to focus.”
“Did you bring your bulletproof vest?”
“Left it at home. But Hailee put a wooden stake in my satchel.” She glanced into the reception area. “Who’s the guy with the beard? Dressed like a Old Testament prophet.”
“He’s going for Jesus, actually.”
“Whaaaat?”
“That’s Michael’s spiritual advisor.”
“The childnapper is religious?” She paused. “I guess Maya did mention that he’d joined a church.”
“I think it’s an outbound Bible camp or something. People getting in tune with nature. Organic crops and hydroponic farming. And prayer.”
“And he wants to criticize Maya about Hexitel?”
“Michael’s group is Christian and, so far as I know, it doesn’t assign wives to its members. Or have masters and slaves.”
“What’s with the costume? Is he putting on a show? Look how holy I am?”
“I don’t know. Michael dragged the guy in here, supposedly for moral support.”
“Michael needs moral education, not moral support.”
She figured she’d probably regret it, but she couldn’t resist pumping the man for more information. She approached. “Hi. I’m Kenzi Rivera.”
The man stood. He was wearing what looked like a burlap robe and sandals. In Seattle. Where it rains one hundred and fifty-six days a year. His craggy, bearded face was reserved but freidnly. “I’m Adrien Messie.”
“I understand you’re Michael’s…counselor.”
“He’s been going through a rough patch. We all need the support of others at times like these. I believe our flock has brought him much comfort.”
“So this is an actual true-to-life church? What denomination?”
“We’re not affiliated with any large organization. I don’t see the need for it. We have a small settlement outside Seattle. Michael has only recently joined us.”
“Did he bring his daughter with him?’
Messie stroked his beard. “I’m…not at liberty…”
Of course not. “Is this a Christian church?”
“Very much so. We believe in living simply, as Jesus did, apart from the temptations of urban life.”
“You certainly seem to dress…simply.”
“If it was good enough for the prophets, it’s good enough for me. Michael tells me you’re…more concerned about clothing.”
Her reputation preceded her. “I like to look good.”
“Goodness comes from within. Dressing simply might lead to simplifying your life. Allowing you to focus on matters of greater import.”
