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I ignore him and focus on Genevieve. “On what grounds?”
“Custody on the grounds of mental instability,” the lawyer pipes up again like an annoying yodeler. “Along with an open child protective services investigation.”
“That case was closed.”
“It can be reopened. Very easily.”
Damn. I don’t think I can keep myself from punching this smug turkey stuffed in a three-piece suit.
“Genevieve,” I snarl, refocusing my attention on her.
She finally slides her heart-shaped shades down her nose and smirks at me. “I heard Abe’s been suspended from school.”
My eyebrows hike. How did she know about that? The first thing I did was take Abe’s phone away.
Maybe Abe borrowed someone else’s cell phone to contact his grandmother. Or maybe she has eyes at the school.
Either way, I’ve been out-maneuvered.
“How about we make a deal right here, right now and I’ll disappear from your life like a beautiful mist.” She wiggles her fingers dramatically.
I fold my arms over my chest.
“Let Abe stay with me. Permanently. We’ll have a private custody agreement. You keep Regan. I’ll keep Abe. That way, everybody goes home with a child.”
“My kids aren’tprizesyou win at bingo night,Genevieve.”
“I didn’t say that they were.” She places a dainty hand to her chest as if offended by the insinuation.
“You’ll have to take Abe from my cold, dead hands.”
She barks out an amused laugh.
“We suggest you reconsider,” her lawyer states primly, “it’s a very good offer. Especially given our odds of winning the case.”
“If your odds were so good, why did you wait this long to take it to trial?” My eyes slant over Anya’s mother. “Isn’t it because your evidence is weak and a judge is still more likely to side with a parent than a grandparent?”
“Clay, don’t force my hand. I’ve given you many chances.”
“Bring it on, Miss Gen. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I will fight to keep my family together.”
“I amnotthe bad guy.” Her voice trembles and she raises her chin. “Look at what happened today. My sweet Abe got in trouble at school. Why would he do something like that unless he was deeply hurt by his father and lashing out?”
“If adults make mistakes, kids are prone to make even more of them. It’s the parents’ job to set them straight before the police or the army have to do it.”
“The army.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Always the soldier, Clay. Do you think you can give Abe what he needs? Do you even want to?”
Her words slash at the wounds already left there by Abe’s vicious confession in the car.
I turn and give them my back. “Leave now before I have you escorted out.”
My mother-in-law and her lawyer leave without a word, which is a small miracle. But I know better than to think the matter ends here.
Mentally unfit?Can they build a case on that? Sure, I might have mild PTSD, but that’s not unexpected. After all the things I’ve seen and done, it would be stranger if Ididn’thave some kind of lasting effect. My PTSD can’t be used against me in court, can it?
Feeling unsettled, I reach out to an old acquaintance.
Darrel Hastings isn’t military, but he comes from a long line of army men. Practically has it in his blood. I trust him not to BS me with that New Age, ‘all you need is love and emotions’ crap that Abe’s therapist is feeding him. He’ll be upfront and tear the band-aid off if he needs to.