Descending (The Rising Series) (5 page)

“Don’t
worry, baby,” he said. “Daddy won’t ever let you go again.”

Gretchen strode forward, not stopping until her nose was just inches from
Mr. Tollman’s. He jerked back, surprised at her for a moment, before he sneered. Anger burned Gretchen so hot that she felt as if she might spontaneously combust. “Mr. Tollman,” she whispered, “you may have won this, but if you hurt your daughter again, you will regret it. You might as well take a gun and put a bullet in your head.”

“Gretchen!” Mrs. Gardner clamped down on her arm and pulled her back. “What in the world are you doing?”

Mr. Tollman stumbled back into the wall—his daughter hanging loosely in his arms, his eyes locked on Gretchen’s.

“Nothing,” Gretchen answered. “I’m not doing a thing.”

Gretchen turned away and strode purposely toward the exit.

Gretchen c
rushed the corner of the red, tasseled throw pillow in her fist. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking actually. Someday, I hope to be able to practice law. I can’t be threatening people. I especially can’t be telling them they should put a bullet in their head.”

Dr. Yauney’s demeanor remained calm, as always. Gretchen had never seen him surprised, upset, or unhinged. The seasoned therapist was as steady as a rock. “Yes, that may have been a bit
over the top. What was going through your mind at the time?”

Gretchen swallowed the lump in her throat. “I kept seeing pictures of the girl’s battered, little body. They played through my mind, over and over again. He did that. He hurt her. He could have killed her,
and he the one person in the world who should have protected her. How can a person do that to a child? How can they do that to their own daughter?”

“Are we still talking about your client’s
father, or are we talking about your birth mother?” Dr. Yauney asked.

Gretchen wanted to scowl at him, wanted to be angry. But she couldn’t. She didn’t have the energy. Her face crumpled. “I don’t think I’m going into the right profession. I can’t be objective. I have too much emotion tied up into dealing with victims—especially children.”

“What would it take to change your emphasis?” Dr. Yauney glanced down at his notebook.

“I’m pretty far into my
internship,” Gretchen said. “Still, it might be best to change it now. It’ll only be harder when I’m already a practicing attorney.”

“Gretchen, I’m going to tell you something I think you need to hear.” He put his papers down
, linked his fingers together, and peered at her over his wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t think you should make this decision at right now. There is obviously something upsetting you.”

“Well, yeah. I threatened a man in a court building. I have been off my game lately.” She gave a weak smile.

“I think you were struggling before the courthouse incident. Why did you decide a month ago to resume meeting with me? You seemed to have moved beyond the issues of your past. You’d been so happy, so carefree. But the woman I see before me is troubled and unsure. I would just like you to tell me what happened to change things.”

“Nothing happened. I have a boyfr
iend who loves me, I have a wonderful internship with one of the best attorneys in Honolulu, and I have the money to pay all my bills with enough left over to have fun on the weekends. My life is great.”

“That sounds wonderful, but I’m sure
the internship comes with its own stress.”

Gretchen hugged the pillow to her chest. “It can be stressful.” She
sighed. “I just wish Hal would listen to me.”

“Is this the boyfriend you are so happy with?”

“I
am
happy. At least, I used to be. Things were better when Sara was here.”

“Your best friend.” Dr. Vincent spoke it as a statement.

“Yes. We were as close as any two sisters. I could tell her almost anything.”

“I think it odd you two only met a year ago, yet you both act as if you’d been friends for years.”

Gretchen shrugged. “We just connected. I can’t explain it.”

“How long ago did she move away?”

“It’s been a month.”

Dr. Vincent’s brows crinkled
.
Wow, a reaction.

Gretchen’s eyes widened. “You think I’m back in therapy because my best friend got married and moved to the other side of the world?”

“Are you?”

“Now that would be ridiculous. I’m a grown woman. Why should the fact my best friend left…” Gretchen couldn’t continue.
A lump got stuck in her throat, and she clutched the pillow in a vice grip. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

“What are you afraid of?” Dr. Vincent’s eyes warmed with concern.

“I’m afraid it’s all going to come crashing down. The world I built, I mean. The relationships I’ve made. I love my life, but always in the back of my mind, I know it could end. I’ve witnessed the other side—the evil, cold, and dark side. It gives me nightmares even now.”

“It might help if you’d talk about it.”

“I’ve tried.”

“Yes, I know. Your previous therapist was wrong to dismiss your early memories. Whether or not they happened, they were real to you.”

“He thought I should be committed.”

“He was wrong. You are a smart, capable woman. Smart enough to take another look at those memories and begin to process and understand them.”

“I may be smart enough, but I just don’t see the point in dredging up the past. I have such a bright future. Shouldn’t I be focused on that?”

“Absolutely. But should you ever decide to delve into the past, I’m a good listener.”

Gretchen smiled. “Yes, you are.”

Dr. Yauney looked
up at the clock. “Before we end here, I want to have you do something for me. During the next week, I want you to brainstorm reasons you feel out of control. You might want to retrace your steps and figure out when things started to look bad. Will you do that for me?”

“I take it you think I already know the answer.”

“I
know
you do. You just need to open up your mind to it.”

***

An hour later, Gretchen stepped into the law offices of Donnellson, Gardner, and Cole. Things had been strained since the horrific day at the courthouse. She and Ms. Gardener initially worked well together. But after…?

Yeah. It
hadn’t been pretty.

The cool air-conditioning raised goose pimples on her skin. The receptionist looked up from behind a mahogany
desk, and her eyes widened. “Ms. Winters… um, Ms. Gardner would like to see you immediately.” Her eyes darted toward the door leading to the offices and back to Gretchen. A look of pity was written clearly across the girl’s face.

A lump formed in Gretchen’s throat. “Thank you.”

She walked back through the wide hall. The nameplate—Andrea Gardner, Attorney-at-Law—shone from the door at the end. Gretchen stepped down to it and knocked softly.

“Come in.”

Ms. Gardner always exuded an aura of true professionalism. Her suits were pressed so crisp you could cut a pineapple against it, she wore her make-up simple, always perfect, and nothing
ever
upset her.

Today,
she was upset.

Gretchen stepped inside and closed the door.

“I got a call from Jami Tollman’s caseworker. Her father fatally shot himself. Jami has been returned to the foster care system.”

“No,” Gretchen breathed.

“Yes. Apparently, he took your advice. According to Jami, he slapped her after she spilled a glass of juice. Then he calmly walked to another room, pulled out a gun, and shot himself in the temple.”

“But I… I…” Gretchen’s stomach soured.

“Listen, I know you didn’t mean what you said. You were upset. But word has gotten back to the judge in this case, and now I’m in the hot seat. I am being asked to dismiss you or face a reprimand.”

Gretchen could feel her heart crumble in her chest. She couldn’t think of anything to say or do to repair this. There was nothing she could do. She stood, her limbs trembling.

“I’m sorry, Gretchen. I
have
to dismiss you. You can clean out your desk after you speak to Detective Baum.”

“Detective Baum?”

Ms. Gardner nodded. “He’s waiting in the conference room.”

Gretchen breathed deeply as she stepped toward the door. She hesitated, turning back. “Ms. Gardner, is
Jami…?”

“She’s back with the same foster family. They’ve already started adoption proceedings.”

Gretchen cracked a weak smile and left the room. The door to the conference room stood open. The detective had his back to her when she entered.

“Hello, Ms. Winters,” he
said, looking out a window.

“Detective?” Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.

He turned toward her. His face was round, he had a shadow of white whiskers sprinkled across his jaw, and his eyes pierced her. “I have a question that’s been plaguing my mind. How is it you tell a man if he hits his daughter again that he should put a bullet in his head, and low and behold, he hits her and does just what you told him to do?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“This case doesn’t add up. This man was messed up, but he’d never shown any suicidal tendencies. And here I have a young, wannabe attorney who seems to be able to predict the future.”

“Maybe I’m
psychic, and I was doing my best to warn him.”

“You’re not psychic.”

She shrugged.

He stomped forward until he towered over her. “Something smells in this. And that smell is you.”

“Are you charging me with a crime, Detective?”

He tightened his jaw so severely
that she could almost hear his teeth grind.

“I didn’t think so.”

“I could hold you for forty-eight hours for questioning.”

“But
you’d have to show probable cause for holding me. My guess is you don’t have that, or you’d be bringing me in now. Detective Baum, I did
not
personally threaten Mr. Roberts. I’d never met him until that day in the courthouse, and I have not seen, nor spoken to him since. I cannot in anyway be found at fault for his death. Unless you think I have some magical power of suggestion, you have nothing on me. Now do you have any intelligent questions to ask me?”

His blood seemed to literally boil beneath his skin, making his face all red and blotchy.

“I didn’t think so.” She turned and strode through the door. Ms. Gardner stood leaning against her doorframe. She’d obviously heard every word. Giving a weak smile, she said, “I wish we could keep you on here. You’ll make a great attorney one day.” With that said, Ms. Gardner returned to her office and shut the door.

Gretchen didn’t have much to pack: a picture of her parents
and brother, a picture of her and Sara at a rugby game, and her lucky shark’s tooth necklace. Everything else in the office was provided by Ms. Gardner. Gretchen placed her few treasures in her purse and headed out.

The walk was a short one. Her apartment was just a mile from the law offices. Her building was a tall, brick throwback to the eighties, but at least it was well maintained. She glanced up to her apartment from the sidewalk below. The curtains were pulled shut
, but she was almost positive she’d opened them that morning. The only other person with a key was Sara. Hal had kept bugging her about giving one to him, but she’d made the mistake of moving too fast in her last relationship. She didn’t want to mess this one up, so they’d agreed to take things slow.

Maybe Sara was here. Perhaps this day wouldn’t go down as the worst day of her entire adult life.

She jogged up the stairs and tried the door, but it was locked. Sara had always been a bit paranoid. Perhaps she’d locked it.

Gretchen
used her key and entered her apartment. The place was a mess. There were clothes strewn across the floor—a short, pink skirt, strappy, white sandals, Hal’s favorite jeans, and a lacy, yellow bra…