Hidden Threat (12 page)

“
What is it with you? Really, are you gay?”

“
No. Why would you think that?” Miss Dwyer took a step back. “You asked me to sign something. I just wanted to see what it was.” Again, her mock offense was lost on Amanda.

“
Okay.” Amanda rolled her eyes warily.

“
Why don’t we sit down, Amanda, and we can see what it is that you’ve got in your hand there.” Miss Dwyer motioned at the papers.

“
Nah, I’d just rather you sign this and let me get out of here. There’s nothing here for me.”

Miss Dwyer walked around her slowly, sizing her up, looking at her with those pale blue eyes, and then sat down in one of the two overstuffed chairs.

“
You’re creeping me out, woman. Maybe you’re the one who needs the shrink.”

“
Maybe so. Why don’t you give me your analysis.” Miss Dwyer waved her arm toward the sofa.

“
Well, this could be kinda cool, but only if you sign this paperwork saying I’m good to go.”

Miss Dwyer’s head popped up. She stared at Amanda.

“
What? Got a problem with that?”

“
We’ll see,” Miss Dwyer said absently, regaining her composure. “Why don’t you come down here and analyze me, young lady.”

Amanda sat down in the chair across from Miss Dwyer, crossed her legs, and laced her fingers together over her knee as she leaned forward.

“
Let’s start with your childhood,” Amanda said in melodramatic form. She drew on her theater training, bugging her eyes wide open.

“
Normal. Two great parents, an older brother who protected me and plenty of friends. I’m close with them all today.”

“
Hmmm. Sounds like the famous African Normalcy Syndrome, or what we call ANS. It strikes in our sleep.”

“
But doctor, I’m not complaining of any issues,” Miss Dwyer countered, smiling like a Stepford wife.

“
Ahh, but therein lies the nastiness of this disease,” Amanda said, wagging her finger. “You just don’t know you have it.”

Miss Dwyer drummed her fingers on her knee, smiling inwardly. “Wow, you may be on to something.”

Enjoying herself, Amanda continued. “Now, the real test is how you have matured as an adult. So tell me about your relationships. I see no ring on your finger. You’re passably cute, and you’re probably only twice my age.”

“
Oh, girlfriend, you flatter me so.”

“
Tell me about your love life.”

***

Riley stiffened, even
though she knew the teenager was just playing a game. It was a natural reaction. She had exactly one love in her life, and he was no longer available. Her heart had been crushed, perhaps her soul as well.

“
Come on, come on, out with it now,” Amanda mocked.

“
Your time is up, doctor. It’s my turn.”

“
Oooh. Struck a nerve, did I? What is it, give him sex too early and he dumped you? That’s what happens in high school. You gotta tease the guys and manipulate them so they stick around.”

Riley smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “Okay, young lady, I can see you’ve got a career in psychology ahead of you.”

“
Please,” Amanda scoffed.

“
Now that your father’s dead, tell me about him, Amanda.” Miss Dwyer’s words were a bolt out of the sky, a momentum changer. In an instant, the well-practiced psychiatrist had seized control of the situation.

Amanda stared at her for a moment then looked down, pulling at her pink shirt with one hand, as if picking lint. “Nothing to say. He’s dead.” Then she thought a moment and said, “But he left me half a million dollars. Pretty cool, huh?”

“
Why did he do that?”

“
What do you mean? I’m his daughter; he had to. Mom told me that she had to get a court order.”

“
Really. When did your mom say this?”

“
I don’t know, a few years ago. Dad was always missing child support payments, never helping with anything. He just ignored me.”

“
I see. Why did he do that?”

“
Just the way he is—was. A bastard.”

“
Pretty strong word.”

“
Pretty bad dad.” Amanda acted impatient. “How much of this do I have to endure.”

“
None at all. You can go now. I’ve seen enough.” Riley stood, brushing her pants off.

“
So you agree, then, he was a bad father? That’s cool. So we just sign the paperwork, and I’m good to go.”

Riley stopped. There it was again. “No. You can go, Amanda, but I’m not signing the paperwork.”

“
What do you mean? I came down here to see you, and you’re not even going to sign it?”

“
I don’t have to sign it, so why would I?”

“
If you don’t sign it, I have to wait two weeks to get my half mil,” Amanda said, trying to act like she pulled off multimillion-dollar deals all the time.

“
Oh, no, that’s not true.” Riley stood firm in front of her now. She was the dominant figure, not the pretending, aloof scatterbrain.

“
Really! You mean I don’t need your signature?”

“
No, you need my signature. Actually, what your father’s will states is that if I don’t sign off on your paperwork, your take of his insurance is fifty thousand dollars.”

“
You lying bitch! It doesn’t say that. I have the Army paperwork.”

“
You must not have reviewed it very carefully Amanda, because Major Ross handed me a copy as well.”

Amanda fumed.

“
So then, are we good to go?” Riley asked, turning away toward her desk.

Amanda balled her fists, wrinkling the documents she held in her hand.

A minute passed
where Amanda stood motionless, as if she were a mannequin in a storefront window. Riley sat at her desk, shuffled some papers, picked up the phone and made a call, saying, “Yes, about the Garrett case. I think we’ll be able to wrap this up rather quickly. . . . No, I’m afraid not. She just really appears to despise her father. . . . That’s fine. I’ll finish the other paperwork and send her back.”

“
Who was that?”

“
Hmm?” Riley looked up with a look of confusion, as if she had forgotten Amanda was still there.

“
Who was that on the phone?”

“
Oh, I’m sorry. You’re not privy to that information. It’s confidential.” She wrinkled her nose and went back to the paperwork on her desk.

“
What do I need to do?”

Again, feigning distraction, Riley looked up, and with aggravation said, “Do, for what?”

“
To get the money. We’re talking about four hundred and fifty thousand dollars here—money my dad wanted me to have. Who are you to say I can’t have it, anyway?”

“
I, young lady, have been named in your father’s will as the person to determine whether or not you are mature enough to receive the money that he really does want you to have. That,” she emphasized, “is who I am.”

“
We can sue, you know?”

“
Of course, and by the time you’re my age, God forbid, you may get the money.”

Amanda tapped her foot as she stood in front of Riley’s desk. With folded arms, she said again, “Okay, what do I have to do?”

“
Well, Amanda, for starters, you have to take a seat over there and talk to me.”

“
Fine.”

“
Now, as long as you’re doing this voluntarily, I’m happy to talk to you.”

Amanda sat on the sofa this time. She crossed her legs and leaned back into the large tan cushion. The two females stared at one another for several minutes without speaking a word. Riley detected chemistry, both good and bad, on many levels. Running through her mind were so many thoughts about how she was going to complete her mission with Amanda. Her instructions were very specific.

Riley slid her chair back from her desk. Before standing, she opened a drawer. She slid her fingers across the glass of a picture frame. A smiling soldier stared up at her from the desk drawer.
God, give me strength
, she asked silently.

She had received the letter the same day that Amanda had been notified, she presumed. Major Ross had arrived at her office, sat down with her, and they had a good cry together. He had given her the relevant portion of Zachary Garrett’s will, giving her the responsibility to conduct seven sessions with Amanda before the Army released the insurance money.

She slid the drawer closed, stood, and walked toward Amanda. “Anything to drink?” she asked.

“
No, thank you,” Amanda replied.

Riley summoned her courage and then asked a simple question.

“
Can you tell me the seven worst things your father ever did to you?”

“
Where do you want me to start? He was always missing child support; he never came to visit; he was mean to my mom and grandmother; he always created problems when we were together; he was always disrupting stuff I wanted to do . . . need me to continue?”

“
Just pick one. Child support?”

“
Sure.” Amanda shrugged.

“
When did he miss child support, Amanda?”

“
I don’t know, always, sometimes. Mom would tell me.”

“
Any chance mom wasn’t being straight with you?”

Amanda stood up. “Don’t ever say that! My mother and grandmother raised me.”

“
Sit down, Amanda, and I will throw you out of here if you do that again. Do you understand? It will cost you $450,000.”

That seemed to get her attention.

“
Sorry,” she muttered. “It just kind of happened.”

“
I understand.” And she did. Riley was beginning to get the picture. Not that there had been much doubt before, but seeing Amanda’s reaction to a mild suggestion that her mother might have misled her convinced her that they had a lot of work to do.

“
So tell me, again, Amanda, do you remember any one time that your mother told you that your father missed child support?”

Amanda seemed to be thinking, wrinkling her brow. “Well, I remember one time, because Jake and I were going to go up to the lake to go skiing, you know? And Mom said I couldn’t go because there was no money, and that Dad had missed a child support payment.”

Riley thought for a moment. “And so you could not put gas in your Mercedes, was that it?”

Amanda understood this jab and wasn’t going to take it lying down. “Look, lady, he missed the child support that month. My grandmother bought me that car.”

“
Is that so? Okay, that would have been when?”

“
June or July two years ago.”

Riley stood, walked across her office and picked up a large brown box. She carried the box to her seat, placed it on the desk, and pulled from it a large accordion folder.

“
In here is every one of your father’s pay statements. Child support payments were deducted directly from his pay, sent to a clearing house in South Carolina, and then it was forwarded to your mother’s bank account. Your father received a notice every time the transaction was completed. He kept all of the receipts. Now I want you to find the one he missed. They are in dated order. Go back as far as you like. I’ll give you a few minutes.”

Riley stood, leaving Amanda with the box. On her way out she sang, “Remember, $450,000.”

She walked past her receptionist, into the hallway, and went into the same restroom Amanda had stopped in initially. She leaned against the sink, staring at herself in the mirror.
Please give me a sign of hope here, God.

She walked outside, picked up a hot tea from the Starbucks next door and enjoyed the sunshine while sipping it slowly. On her way back in, she spied a young man across the parking lot leaning against a truck, and figured him for Amanda’s boyfriend. Riding the elevator up, she tossed another thought around in her mind.

“
So, what have we found?”

Amanda stared at her for a moment. After a long silence, she said, “Well, South Carolina probably screwed it up somewhere, because mom would never lie to me.”

“
So, he didn’t miss a payment? Is that what you’re saying?”

“
I couldn’t find anywhere he did, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t.”

“
Oh, I’m sorry, I came back too soon. Please, take some time and review all—”

“
No. I don’t need to do that. I looked at most of them . . .” she trailed off, looking away. After an awkward moment, she looked back up at Riley when she didn’t say anything. “What?”

“
You tell me.”

“
What do you want me to say, that he didn’t miss a payment? Okay, he didn’t.”

“
I just want you to say what you see, Amanda. What are the facts before you? Not filtered through anyone’s eyes but only yours. If we were in court right now, and you were on the witness stand, I would approach you and say, ‘Isn’t it true, Miss Amanda Garrett, that your father never missed a child support payment?’” Riley deepened her voice and strode across the room with theatrical practice, waving her arms as she did so.

Amanda smiled, weakly wiped at her face, and said, “Funny.”