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Authors: Olivia Hardin

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BOOK: Justice for All
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At exactly 8:30 a.m. Audrick Van Buren closed and locked the door to the lecture hall and walked tall back to his desk. This was the way he ran his classroom. If these fledgling law students planned to be attorneys, then they needed to learn the importance of punctuality. His time was valuable, and he wasn’t going to waste it waiting for latecomers to get situated or worse, to request that he repeat something they’d missed.

“Good morning.” He spoke to the nearly packed room, taking a stack of syllabi and dividing it in half to give one to each side of the room. He didn’t wait for the papers to get to all of the students. They could presumably all read, so what was the point? He began going through his expectations and mentally took note of which of them were paying close attention.

The little jiggle on the doorknob wasn’t surprising. It happened each semester. He didn’t react, though a few of the students closest to that door twitched and exchanged concerned looks, clearly wondering if they should open the door. All of them were wise enough to remain in place as he continued describing the course on Civil Procedure.

When the hour was finished, he closed up his books, stacked them neatly on the desk and then unlocked the door to indicate that the class was dismissed. The lecture hall of wide-eyed students gathered up their belongings and exited as fast as they could. He expected to receive a few drop slips over the next several weeks. He was a hard task-master.

“Mr. Van Buren,” a husky female voice spoke from the doorway. He paused before he glanced at the woman. He could just about bet that she was the late student.

Upon raising his gaze, the first thing that struck him was her eyes. He didn’t know God made eyes that blue. But really they weren’t just blue. There were greenish flecks along the inside ring close to the pupil, and he found himself staring deep into those eyes.

“Sir, I wondered if I could get a copy of the syllabus.”

He rubbed the roof of his mouth with his tongue as his vision tunneled back out to look at her fully. She had a stack of books hugged to her chest as if they might protect her from something. Behind her was a shabby looking fellow wearing sweats and a “Los Pollos Hermanos” T-shirt.

“You were late, Miss…”

“Rawley. I know your policy about punctuality, and I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

Van put his hand on the books on his desk and rapped his thumb along the spine of the top one a moment. “If it does happen again, be good enough not to disturb us by pulling on the doorknob.”

“Eh, sorry, man. That was me,” the Breaking Bad fan said, his hand outstretched. “It’s all my fault she didn’t get here on time, so I wanted to come clear things up for her. Thomas Berman.”

Van shook the man’s hand even as he gave him an arrogant top-to-bottom once over. When he turned his attention back to Miss Rawley, her expression said that she wanted to disappear into some hole and never come out.

“Sorry about my appearance, man. Long night, if you know what I mean.”

Van spoke without looking at him again, “And are you also a student in this class?”

“Nah, I’m a business major but I…”

“Then I’m sure you’re late for a class of your own. You can go, Mr. Berman.”

Thankfully the rude kid didn’t stay to argue about his dismissal, and when the door closed behind him, Van watched Miss Rawley exhale a long breath of relief.

“Please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Van Buren. This isn’t what it looks like. I don’t even know that man.”

Van’s thick brows shot up in interest, and he had the urge to grin when Miss Rawley’s cheeks pinked in alarm.

“That’s not what I mean,” she stammered. “He ran into my car. In the parking lot this morning. And by the time the campus police got there, I was late, and then I couldn’t get him to leave me alone. He insisted on speaking with you and sat outside the lecture hall the entire class. Believe me, nothing like this will happen again.”

The second most striking thing about her was that voice. It reminded him of Lauren Bacall, and something in him wanted her to grin at him and say, “You know how to whistle don’t you? You just put your lips together and blow.” Lest he make a fool of himself by whistling, he put a pen between his teeth and located his stack of syllabi, handing her one.

She took the paper and stood there a moment longer. He kept himself busy rearranging his books and folders, shuffling some of them into his briefcase. After a few more seconds, she turned and he heard her feet padding out of the room. A long-held breath seeped from his mouth and a little grin upturned one corner of his lips as he thought of those blue and green eyes.

 

It was clear as crystal that Kay Rawley was shocked that he wanted to speak with her. He’d mostly kept his distance since she’d started as an intern at the firm. Up until a week ago, she’d still been a student at law school, and he took nepotism rules seriously. Now all bets were off…

Not exactly, old boy
. His inner voice spoke up. And he knew it was true. Audrick Van Buren didn’t chase women, and he certainly didn’t date. He wasn’t a monk by any means, but he didn’t have time to keep up with girlfriends and all the issues of relationships.

He recognized his own hang-ups. First, he was a very busy attorney, now a partner in a large Dallas firm. Women required time, so he liked to keep his hook-ups short and simply physical. Also, he tended not to trust most women. He wasn’t exactly a stud, although he prided himself on staying fit. A part of him always thought any women looking for a relationship was really looking for his money.

But when Kay Rawley gazed up at him, all business in those sexy eyes of hers, he wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and ask her out. But the “all business” look reined him in. He knew from the scuttlebutt around the office that she was as serious about her own career as he’d been at her age. And even if he wanted her in a way that he didn’t often encounter, he respected her goals in life.

“Late for court, eh?”

“You heard that, I suppose. And I’m not going to make up any excuses. I was just late, pure and simple.”

His cheek twitched as he fought the urge to grin at her. “I didn’t hear the conversation with Leona. I was taking note of your flats. Not your typical attire for court, but certainly quieter when you’re slipping into a packed courtroom.”

Her cheeks turned a little pinker. Pinker because she was already wearing a very healthy flush after Leona’s abrupt dismissal. He wondered if he could make her blush even more if he tried.

“You needed to speak with me?” She shifted her briefcase from her left hand to her right and looked up at him.

Van tilted his back head a bit, extending the effect of his height over her. He could almost feel her twitching with discomfort. He’d realized some time ago that Kay’s three-inch heels were a way of gaining advantage. She felt more confident when she was closer to eye level with her peers, especially those in authority positions.

“I have someone coming in this afternoon. Gracie was going to talk to her since I’m here all day, but she had to go pick up her little girl from school. Some kind of stomach bug.”

“And you want me to meet with your client?”

She did a fair job hiding her surprise, but Van was nearly as good at reading people as Kay seemed to be. And who could blame her for being a bit astonished? In all of her time at the firm he’d never asked her to meet with any of his people. “She’s not a client yet. It’s a consultation. Divorce with a domestic abuse aspect. You can handle it.”

“Of course.”

“Kay, give it to her straight and make sure she’s ready to go through with this. I don’t have time to waste if she’s not serious.”

The slight wrinkling of her nose told him she didn’t like his blasé attitude. He forged on anyway. “Get a contract, a retainer and work this if she’s a go.”

“What type of retainer?”

Van turned away from her and retrieved his briefcase, then slapped his hand on the doorknob leading outside the courtroom. “You’re going to be an attorney soon, Kay. Typically a retainer involves money, preferably in US dollars.” With that he turned the knob and exited the room.

 

Charise Faucett was an extraordinarily tall woman. When she stood from the conference room table to greet her, it was all Kay could do not to step up on her tippy-toes. The traffic on Loop 12 had been heavier than she’d anticipated on the way back to the office from court. She mentally rolled her shoulders back and gave the woman’s hand a firm tug, then motioned that she should sit back down.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

Charise shook her head, brushing a few strands of wavy brown hair from in front of her eyes and back behind her ears. There was a purplish bruise along her jawline that was puffy enough Kay presumed it to be only a day or two days old.

“So, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Kay suggested, pulling out her own chair and making herself comfortable, a pen and yellow notepad in front of her.

“Well, I don’t know. Where should I start? What do you need to know?”

Glancing at the interview questionnaire Mrs. Faucett had completed just a moment ago, Kay took note of the date of marriage, scribbling that onto her pad. “So you were married in 1998. Overall how do you think your marriage has been?”

A ragged sigh escaped the woman’s lips, and she glanced at the closed door to the conference room. She might have been considering an escape, Kay surmised. Or she might have been thinking of her two sons, both of them sitting in the lobby waiting for her.

“We’re like any couple. You know, everyone has disagreements.”

“Do your disagreements usually lead to things like that bruise on your face?”

Mrs. Faucett raised her fingers towards her chin but refrained from touching the mark on her skin. She swallowed, and then folded her hands in her lap. “No, this wasn’t … this hasn’t happened often. Really only in the last year. He’s under a lot of stress. The business went through a down turn. But it will pick up and…”

She stopped and gritted her teeth. Kay knew why. She’d been on the verge of saying things would get better. On the verge of trying to convince herself that things would improve. Kay looked at her hard, piercing her with a gaze. She flinched and nodded as if resigned.

“Why don’t you tell me about this recent incident? The police were called?”

Charise bobbed her head as she turned her attention to her fingers, picking at a hangnail while she collected her thoughts. “We’ve been trying to acquire some land adjacent to the ranch. It has better water access and with the drought, that’s been our major concern. Scott’s been putting all he has into this deal. When he came home Tuesday night, he was angry. I mean, really pissed off, and all of us knew. Junior says he can always tell by the way his dad closes the door.”

Kay continued scribbling notes even as her eyes cast over to the information sheet with all the parties’ information. Scott Faucett, Jr. was only fourteen years old.

“So we all just try to stay out of Scott’s way when that happens. The kids all went off to their rooms, and I was finishing up the laundry. When he noticed I was packing, he came unglued. The visit to my parents’ for Christmas has been planned for weeks. But he said the closing for the property was pushed back, and he had work to do to make sure the deal didn’t fall through.”

“Couldn’t you have gone to see your family without him?”

Charise Faucett’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “It wouldn’t have even been a discussion before. But this time he was different.” She inhaled, wrung her left hand in her right, and shook her head. “He said we weren’t going. Told me to put the effin’ suitcases away. When I didn’t, he grabbed my arm. I tried to pull back, and he shoved me away from the door. That’s when I hit the nightstand.”

Kay watched her rub her chin, staring off into nothing and getting lost in the memory.

“Are you all right?”

She twitched, then faked a smile. “I tried to get up, but he grabbed me and threw me into the bed. When I tried to crawl away, he grabbed the suitcase and threw it at me, striking me in the back.”

When the woman handed her an envelope, Kay swallowed and accepted it with a stoic expression. On top was a police report from the night in question along with the magistrate’s order for protection. In incidents of family violence, these could be issued on an emergency basis, but in order to keep Mr. Faucett away from her and her children, Charise would need to file for a permanent order.

There were about ten or so photographs in the envelope as well. Looking at Mrs. Faucett, one wouldn’t have expected the types of injuries the photos depicted. There was a huge black bruise across her spine. Kay imagined it was probably about a foot and a half long at the widest point. There were also images of finger impressions marring her upper arms. Kay looked at each one then stacked them neatly and set them to the side.

“We should file a petition for divorce along with an application for an order of protection immediately.”

“But there’s already a protective order.”

Kay nodded as she tapped the end of her pen against the pad. “Yes, that’s true, but a magistrate’s order isn’t permanent. With the holidays coming, court schedules will be hectic. The sooner the application is on file, the sooner we can see about getting you in front of the judge to finalize it. A permanent order lasts two years and can be renewed as needed. Then we can focus on the divorce issues individually.”

“What about the business? Money? Can I stay in the house? The boys will have tuition due at the beginning of the year.”

Kay smiled reassuringly. “We’ll seek temporary orders immediately as well. Request spousal maintenance so that you and the children will have your needs met.”

Charise took a moment to consider things, and while she did, Kay continued jotting down notes, skimming the police report in greater detail. When the client leaned forward and folded her hands in front of her on the table, Kay raised her eyes and waited.

“Okay, you’re right. How do we get started?”

Kay finished the sentence she’d been writing and then began gathering up some of the papers around her. “We’ll need an initial retainer of ten thousand dollars. Give us a few moments to draw up some paperwork, including an affidavit for you. I’d also like to interview your oldest son if that’s all right with you.”

“Junior? No, why do you want to talk to him?”

Standing, Kay gripped her pen with both hands in front of her. “The police report states he came in between you and your husband during the altercation. I’d like to hear from him what happened. He’s also old enough the judge could consider his wishes regarding custody.”

“Could I lose custody?” Her voice squeaked with alarm.

“Mrs. Faucett, I don’t expect that at all. But it’s our job to be thorough. Mr. Van Buren is very good at this, and it’s my job to be sure he has all of the tools to get you the best outcome possible.”

Once out of the conference room, Kay immediately located Van’s legal assistant, Tamara Chaney. “We’ll need a contract for Mrs. Faucett.” She scribbled details about the retainer onto the client questionnaire and handed it to the woman along with the photographs and other documents. “I’d rather keep these originals, but feel free to make her a set of color copies. I’ll be drawing up an affidavit for a protective order. Also, be sure the children don’t need anything. They’re in the lobby.”

While Mrs. Faucett was reviewing the affidavit and other legal documents, Kay invited Junior Faucett into her office. He was a skinny kid, with long lanky limbs, and she figured her thumb and index finger would touch if she wrapped them around one of his arms. He sat down in the chair she offered him, whispering a polite thank you.

“You sure you don’t want anything to drink? We’ve got soda, water.”

He shook his head, then giving it some thought, decided a verbal answer was more appropriate. “No, ma’am.”

“So tell me about what happened the other day. When your mom and dad fought.”

His lanky legs were dangling back and forth over the end of the chair. He watched them a few moments and inhaled deep. “I knew he was in a bad mood. I can usually tell. I told Brian he could come play Xbox in my room for a while, and we closed the door.”

“I bet it can be pretty scary when your dad’s in a bad mood.”

“I don’t like him much when he’s like that.”

Kay inclined her head, “How is he when he’s not like that?”

“I don’t know. Okay, I guess.”

Reaching across the table, Kay opened a little candy dish and grabbed a hard caramel candy. After popping it into her mouth, she grabbed a second and waited for Junior to look up. When he did, she tossed it to him. He clutched it as if it were prized but didn’t eat it, just slipped it into his pocket.

“Don’t you want to go ahead and eat it?”

“Brian likes these.”

“Ah.” She opened the dish again and grabbed another candy, throwing it gently into his palm. He tucked it away also, and she figured he was going to wait to enjoy it with his baby brother. “So, when did you decide to come out of your room during the argument?”

He shrugged and then swallowed. His expression was tight and restrained. She wondered at how a child that young could come to know how to hide his emotions so well. “I heard a bang. Or a thud, I guess. I told Brian to stay there, and I went to check on Mom. Dad was screaming at her, and she was on the bed trying to get away from him.”

“He wasn’t screaming until that time?”

“I don’t know. I tune out his screaming.”

It was hard for Kay not to cross the desk and wrap him up in her arms. He was entirely too young to have to face such hard truths about life. “Oh, I see. So what happened next?”

“I don’t know. He was really mad at her. Said she wasn’t going to run off when he needed her. Mom was crying and trying to crawl away, but when she turned away from him he threw the suitcase at her. It pushed the air out of her lungs. I heard it. It was like a whooshing sound.”

Kay scribbled notes, being careful to take down the manner of wording Junior used. His story was pretty much the same as his mom’s, but she had read that there were clues that could be learned from the way a child gave a statement. Whether that was true or not, she didn’t know, but she planned to give Van all the ammunition she could.

A few hours later, Kay was organizing the new file for Mrs. Faucett when Van stepped into her office. “I hear we have a new client.”

“We?” Kay grinned, tossing her pen onto her desk and rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I’m not a lawyer yet.”

Van tipped his head up and down. “True, but you’re scheduled to take the bar in February. This is a family law matter, and from what I know about the sizeable estate these people own, I imagine it could last well into next year. So maybe by the time we get to trial you’ll be a lawyer.”

Kay laughed, reaching one hand across her body to rub her shoulder. “And I’m sure
the
Audrick Van Buren will just allow me to litigate in his stead.”

One of his black eyebrows shot up and she could see the hint of a smirk in his eyes. “Or not, but at least you can be second chair. Until then, you’ll be the point man on it.”

“How can I argue with that?” Kay sat forward and grabbed the file, “I think I’ve got a solid affidavit here. Tamara prepared the petitions, and I had her make a few corrections. If everything looks good to you, she can file it tomorrow.”

He reached for the file, his fingers coming dangerously close to touching hers. She eyed him, admiring him not for the first time since coming to work here. It was true that she hadn’t really taken notice of him as a man until she got this job. She’d taken two semesters with him in law school, but somehow the moniker of “teacher” kept any other thoughts about him at bay.

His tie was undone but still hanging through his collar and loosely falling on either side. He had a few buttons undone so that she could see his Adam’s apple and the top of his chest. She found herself wishing the shirt were open more so that she could satisfy her curiosity about what was underneath. Her fingers itched to discover if there might be a sprinkling of hair across his chest.

Her wandering thoughts were disturbed when he stood abruptly and started for the door. “Have a good evening, Kay,”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so just nodded as she watched him go.

BOOK: Justice for All
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