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“And did one of these, what did you call them? ‘Professional courtesy calls,’ include Ms. Meyers’ residence?”
Dr. Ferndale shot Lindsay a desperate glance.
“Well, I think I have my answer. Of course, though I loathe to stoop so low, I could ask Ms. Weiring, thecourt-assignedguardianad litemwhat Dylan remembers of that... professional call.” The words left his lips dripping with disdain, emphasizing the clear difference between the objectivity of the lawyer and the guardian. “As a child, I could not, of course, countenance requiring him to repeat it a second time this morning.”
The psychologist wilted under the judge’s penetrating gaze, then shook his head. “No, Your Honor. That won’t be necessary.” Shame colored his voice. “I did make a brief stop at Ms. Meyers’ residence. What was meant to be a brief stop. Ah, poor choices were made.” His glance slid sideways, to Dylan. “I don’t believe I understood what an early riser a child could be.”
“I see.”
Perhaps in an actual trial, a lawyer might have pressed, but for a custody hearing, Judge Farmer had already risked his objectivity enough.
Scott waited, not daring to hope, hands clenched now not in anger, but as a desperate attempt to keep himself from leaping to his feet and shouting for joy.
“Dare I pursue the subject of your fee, Dr. Ferndale?”
The man shook his head, and his face paled. “Ten thousand, Your Honor. Plus, expenses.”
Even Mark’s eyebrows shot up and a low whistle broke the silence.
“Mr. Lystead.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
“Ten thousand...” Judge Farmer spent a long time looking at Dr. Ferndale, who refused to meet his eyes, then, shifting his attention to Lindsay, he remained silent, studying the woman. Finally, he sighed. “Never, in all my years... Well. I will not so dishonor this courtroom as to ask if the... fee Ms. Meyers paid you included a foregone conclusion. Testimony already given today is more than enough for a dismissal of this case. If Mr. Edwards chooses to take up civil charges—and, given the expense of this circus, any competent lawyer would recommend he do so—he can get to the bottom of this sordid affair. As for me...” He shuffled several papers, setting a small stack to one side, then nodded to the bailiff.
“All rise, please.”
Scott lurched to his feet.
“I do not appreciate individuals who choose to use the legal system as a weapon against their former spouse, even less so when a child gets caught in the crossfire. I do not appreciate having my or the court’s time wasted on frivolities. This case is dismissed with the contempt it deserves and there will be no mandated change to the custody agreement for Dylan Edwards.”
Scott’s knees gave way, and he caught himself on the edge of the table, already turning toward his son as the judge continued.
“As a further note, I understand, Ms. Meyers, your practice is not within family law, and perhaps things are different in your corporate law firms in New York, but we take seriously any number of infractions you have committed before this bench. Rest assured, a strongly worded letter to the appropriate disciplinary committee will be forthcoming.” His gavel smacked the desk, and with a small cry, Dylan launched himself over the banister and into his dad’s arms.
Scott clutched his son.
Beside him, Mark shook hands with the guardian. “Thank you.”
“It’s my job, Mr. Lystead.” She turned to Scott. “I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I’m glad we were able to get to the truth in time.”
He reached out and took her hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say...”
“Mr. Edwards,” she paused. “Dylan is still a bit too young to have his preferences taken into account in court, but I found him to be a precocious child with a solid sense of what he wanted out of this situation. With respect to that, I’m pleased with how things turned out for you today.”
While Scott parsed the words for meaning, Mark frowned. “Ms. Weiring...”
“Oh, Mark, did you see the way that woman slunk out of here? She won’t be appealing.”
“Still...”
“Oh, fine, then, I’ll say no more.” But she smiled as she offered her hand once again to Scott. “Mr. Edwards, Dylan, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Good luck.”
Thirty-Five
SCOTT FOLLOWED MARK out of the courtroom, one arm wrapped around his son. As they passed the threshold, Lindsay pounced.
“No mangy mutt today?”