Silver Thaw (35 page)

At the end of the day, Amanda stood near the beautiful spruce to peer out the living room window into the darkness. When Jeb found her and slipped his arms around her waist, she leaned back against him.

“Penny for them.”

Amanda struggled to put her feelings into words. “Tomorrow is the second, and the hearing will be only nine days away.”

“It’s going to be a slam dunk. Johnson doesn’t think Mark stands a chance.”

Curling her hands over the backs of his wrists, she hugged his arms closer against her. “It isn’t that I believe Mark can win in the courtroom. It’s more a fear that he’ll find some other way to win, some other way to destroy me.” She fell silent for a moment. “For the first time since leaving home, I’ve found happiness, a wonderful man, a loving family, and I even have my mom with us. Everything is perfect, and I know I should just feel thankful, but instead I have an awful feeling of doom.”

“Doom?”

“Yes. Don’t you see, Jeb? It’s all too good to be true. And Mark will stop at nothing, absolutely
nothing
, to ruin it for me.”

“Aw, honey. Try to forget about Mark and just enjoy being happy.”

Amanda wanted nothing more, but well aware of how cunning Mark was, she sensed, deep down where reason held no sway, that he had a plan. And when he made his strike, no one would be prepared.

*   *   *

Amanda wished she could stop the clock from moving forward, but the days passed like water through a sieve. Before she knew it, the morning of the hearing arrived. Amanda had ordered a lovely suit, a brown straight skirt with a matching jacket to be worn over an ecru silk blouse. She’d found some suede pumps of the same brown. After she dressed, she stood in front of a mirror,
wondering where the raggedy Amanda had gone. She looked classy, but in an understated way, which, after conferring with Johnson, she knew was the perfect tone to set. The judge would see a capable, attractive, quietly elegant woman.

Amanda didn’t feel elegant; she felt terrified. To reassure Jeb, she forced herself to eat breakfast, but the food didn’t settle well, and she was soon in the bathroom purging her stomach. The hearing was set for one that afternoon.

Even though Clyde Johnson had chatted with Amanda several times over the phone, he wanted to meet with her at a restaurant near the courthouse at eleven thirty for a final briefing. She clung to Jeb’s hand during the interview, wishing this whole day would speed by and be over. Johnson fired questions at her, some of which he would ask her in the courtroom and some that he guessed the other attorney would hammer her with. By the time the session ended, Amanda’s head was swimming. Johnson patted her hand.

“You’ll pull it off without a hitch,” he said. “I know you’re nervous and feeling confused, and while on the stand, you’ll have moments when your mind goes blank. If that happens, politely ask for the question to be repeated. It’s okay to say that you’re feeling nervous. The judge will understand.” He tightened his fingers over hers. “Just remember, the opposing attorney
can’t
trip you up because you’re telling the truth, so even if you get confused or don’t catch a question, you’ll come across well. Mark, if I’m guessing right, will be calm to a point. He’ll smile at some of your answers, trying to convey that everything you’re saying is untrue. Don’t look at him. Pretend he isn’t in the room.”

Amanda’s mouth and throat felt like cotton. “What if he brings a gun?”

Johnson shook his head. “Metal detectors. He can’t get past court security with a weapon, and I’ve put a bug in the judge’s ear that he has done you physical harm in the past and may try again. A court guard will frisk him before he goes through the screener.”

Breath whooshed from Amanda’s parted lips. “Thank goodness for that.”

*   *   *

En route to the courthouse, Jeb talked incessantly, trying to allay Amanda’s fears. She clung to his every word.

“I’ll be in the spectator area right behind you. Because you’re the plaintiff—the person who filed for the divorce—you’ll sit on the right, facing the judge. Johnson will sit on your left between you and Mark, who will be seated on the far side of his attorney. So you’ll have two lawyers as a buffer. The armed bailiff stands near the bench, where the judge presides over the hearing. The court clerk is also at the front of the courtroom near the judge’s bench. So you’re going to have quite a few bodies between you and Mark. He’d have to be totally off his rocker to try anything during the hearing.”

Amanda took a bracing breath. “Mark
is
totally off his rocker when it comes to me. Always has been, always will be.”

“But he also has a finely honed sense of self-preservation. He may get quarrelsome and say insulting things to you or about you, but I doubt he’ll do anything more. And he’ll pass through a metal detector, remember. In order to hurt you, he can only try a physical attack, and if he does, I’ll be there to stop him if Johnson doesn’t beat me to the punch. Johnson mentioned once that he
was a football linebacker in college. He’s gained weight over the years, but I can tell by looking that he still packs a lot of muscle, and I’d bet good money that he can still throw one hell of a punch.”

Amanda knew they were drawing closer to the courthouse. She straightened her jacket and fussed with her blouse. “Do I look okay?”

He gave her a measuring look with those warm hazel eyes. “You look beautiful.”

Amanda pushed at her hair. “So where will Chloe be? I forgot to ask.”

“In a guarded cubicle outside the courtroom. If the judge wishes to speak with her in closed chambers, an armed guard will escort Chloe through an adjacent corridor directly there. She’ll never enter the courtroom. Our moms are going to stay with her. There’s a DVR, so they’re taking some Disney flicks for Chloe to watch.”

“Do you think the judge will ask to interview Chloe?”

“Johnson says he doubts it because of Chloe’s age. More than likely, the judge will listen to the testimonies, look at the evidence, and make a judgment from the bench. When we leave the courthouse, it should all be over.”

“Until Mark goes to trial for the abuse.”

Jeb reached over to squeeze Amanda’s shoulder. “One thing at a time, honey. Let’s get through today. Then we’ll worry about the trial.”

*   *   *

The moment Amanda entered the courtroom, both her body and her brain went numb. Wood paneling, a low-profile judge’s bench, curved seating and desks for the plaintiff and the respondent, mottled gray tile—everything blurred in her vision. Jeb escorted her up the center aisle to an opening in the bar, which divided the gallery from
the court arena. Clyde Johnson met them and grasped Amanda’s left arm to guide her to the plaintiff’s table. Amanda sank into a well-cushioned and sturdily built wooden chair. Johnson sat to her immediate left.

Amanda kept her gaze fixed on the judge’s bench, but in her peripheral vision she could see Mark sitting at the respondent’s table with a thin, dark-haired man who she guessed was his lawyer.
Why is it that everything else seems hazy, but Mark’s face is crystal clear?
She wanted to jump to her feet and flee, only she had nowhere to go. She’d run as far as her limited funds could take her, she’d tried to hide, and regardless of all her efforts, here she was, facing Mark again. He was
staring
at her. Against her will, she flicked a glance at him, and he smiled—that evil curve of his lips she’d learned to dread.

The court clerk called the hearing into session and said, “All rise.” She said more, but her words rang like gibberish in Amanda’s ears, announcing that the Honorable Somebody was presiding. For a moment Amanda thought,
Oh, no, I missed her last name.
But then she dimly recalled that Johnson had instructed her to call the judge Your Honor, no last name required.

The judge, a plump older woman with short blond hair and solemn gray eyes, took a seat behind the bench, and a rustle of movement followed as everyone sat down. Amanda knew she would be called to testify first, but she wasn’t prepared for it to happen so quickly. As she walked on unsteady legs to the witness box, she wanted to scream at the armed bailiff, the court clerk, and the court reporter that this
wasn’t
business as usual. A little girl’s future hung in the balance, and they acted as if it was only another day.

Amanda took the stand. She thought maybe she was
sworn in, but if she was, she couldn’t recall the details. Johnson rose from the plaintiff’s table and stepped forward.

“Ms. Banning, would you like a glass of water before we proceed?” he asked.

Amanda tried to bring his broad face into focus. “Um, yes, please, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

A blurry someone brought Amanda a glass. She clutched it in both hands, thinking,
Don’t spill it
.

Johnson asked her a question. Though she didn’t quite register what it was, she heard herself replying. Her voice sounded as if it came from deep within a tunnel.
Please, God, help me get through this. Help me protect Chloe
. In a daze, Amanda fielded question after question, and then Johnson resumed his seat to let Mark’s attorney cross-examine her.

Panic coursed through Amanda, for she knew this lawyer would come at her with his fangs bared. She searched frantically for tawny hair, a burnished face, and hazel eyes.
Jeb
. He sat two rows back from the petitioner’s table, which hadn’t been part of their plan. Prior to the judge taking the bench, Johnson had whispered to her why the courtroom was so crowded, saying that divorces were matters of public record and could be watched by anyone.
Divorce, a spectator sport
.

When Amanda locked gazes with Jeb, some of the tension eased from her body.
I can do this
. With Jeb’s support, she could survive anything. Then, without meaning to, she locked gazes with Mark. His blue eyes glittered like ice chips, so cold, the hatred in them so venomous, she felt a chill touch her skin. He bared his teeth in that smile again and pursed his lips to blow her a kiss.
The kiss of death
, he’d often called it, just before pulling the trigger of a revolver he held to her temple.

Amanda started to shake. Her brain froze. Mark’s attorney cried, “Ms. Banning, I’ve asked you the same question three times!”

Amanda jerked and forced her gaze to the lawyer, who reminded her of a nasty little weasel, and pushed out, “I’m sorry. Would you please repeat the question?”

He leaned closer to the witness stand. “Can you prove that Mark Banning inflicted any of the injuries you’ve documented in your photos?”

Amanda groped for an answer. Finally she said, “No.”

“Louder, please!”

“No!” Amanda cried.

The attorney threw up his arms and smiled at the judge, as if Amanda’s answer said it all. Water slopped from the glass she clenched. The coldness slid over her fingers and puddled on her lap.
My skirt,
she thought, and then realized how stupid it was to worry about her clothing. Chloe was all that mattered. Mark caught her gaze again and sneered. She searched again for Jeb, fixed her gaze on his face, and found the calm to answer the attorney’s aggressive questions.

At some point, Mark’s lawyer shoved a photograph of Chloe’s burned hand under Amanda’s nose. The curved wounds from the red-hot stove burner ran deep.

“You
claim
that your husband, Mark Banning, inflicted these burns on your daughter’s palm. But you have no photographic evidence of that.” He turned toward the judge. “Your Honor, may I suggest to you that children often accidentally burn themselves? There’s no proof that Mr. Banning inflicted this injury on the child. In fact, this photographic evidence is so
weak
, I’m amazed that you’ve allowed it to be presented to the court.”

No!
Amanda wanted to scream the word. Only Johnson’s warnings that she should show no anger forestalled her. Mark’s attorney sounded so reasonable that the judge might listen to his argument. There
was
no photographic evidence that Mark had inflicted any of the injuries on Chloe. How could anyone who saw those images think that Amanda could have taken snapshots while the incidents occurred?
Oh, God, oh, God, don’t let Mark be alone with her
. Amanda had no doubt that he would kill Chloe if given half a chance.

Dizzy with fear, Amanda watched the judge. After studying the picture of Chloe’s burned palm, she began flipping through others, her brows creasing in a deep frown. To Mark’s attorney, she finally said, “If it were one instance of injury, I might consider your point valid, sir, but there are too many wounds documented in these photos for all of them to have been accidental.” She folded her hands atop the stack of pictures. “I will also point out that Mr. Banning will stand trial to determine if he’s innocent or guilty of inflicting these injuries. The
court’s duty today is to grant dissolution of the marriage to the plaintiff and to decide whether or not the minor child will be placed in possible jeopardy if the father is allowed to have unsupervised visitation.”

“Yes, Your Honor, but the court’s decision today will have bearing upon the outcome of that trial. If the father is granted only supervised visitation with his daughter now, there will be an implication of guilt, which may influence the decision of the Eureka judge.”

The judge held up her hand. “The court repeats that the purpose of this hearing is to grant dissolution of the marriage and determine the probability of endangerment to the child if the father is allowed unsupervised visitation.” Turning to Amanda, she said, “Ms. Banning, you are free to return to your seat.” To Mark’s lawyer, she said, “Do you wish to have the respondent testify?”

“I do,” the attorney replied.

The court clerk called Mark to the stand. All went well for Mark as he responded to his attorney’s questions. Amanda could tell that they had rehearsed his testimony several times. But then Johnson cross-examined. The older attorney went after Mark like a pit bull, tripping him up in his lies.

“My wife
always
had her own car!” Mark shot a blazing glare at Amanda. “She’s lying in an attempt to make me look like some kind of monster. I always made sure she had a home phone line, too. What kind of husband would leave his wife stranded without a way to call for help if something happened?”

Johnson shot back, “Can you produce proof that you own a second vehicle and phone bills to document the home phone line?”

Mark lost his composure and nearly shouted, “Of
course
. I don’t have any paperwork with me, but I can produce it later.”

Johnson turned and smiled at Amanda, pretended to check his notes, and then faced the bench again to drop a bomb. “That’s peculiar, Mr. Banning, because I hired an investigator to check your phone records and vehicle registrations. According to his findings, you’ve never had a home phone line at any of your residences, and since your marriage to Ms. Banning, you’ve owned only one vehicle, an older-model gray Chevy sedan.”

Johnson carried the investigative report to the bench for the judge’s perusal. She skimmed the paperwork and then cast a questioning look at Mark, whose forehead had beaded with sweat. “How can you explain this, Mr. Banning? I’ve dealt with this investigator, and he’s very thorough.”

Mark waved a hand as if to flick away a bothersome gnat. “My credit went bad, so my father purchased the second vehicle and got us the home phone under his name.”

An expression of pure delight played upon Johnson’s face as he returned to the table to fetch another report. He pivoted to face the bench again. “I anticipated Mr. Banning claiming that, so I had my investigator check to see if any of this man’s family members or friends had purchased a second car for Ms. Banning’s use.” He strode briskly toward the judge to hand her the report. “No car, no phone. Ms. Banning’s testimony is the absolute truth. Her husband left her without transportation, telephone, or Internet services, and separated her from all her friends and family.”

Mark started to speak, but the judge cut him off. “Need I remind you, Mr. Banning, that you may be charged with perjury if you give false testimony in my court?”

Mark yelled, “I’m not giving false testimony!” He pointed at Amanda. “She’s the liar here! She abandoned me! She took my child away from me and kept her hidden from me for nearly six months!”

The judge brought down her gavel. “Order in the court! Lower your voice and remain in control, Mr. Banning, or the court will find you in contempt.”

When Mark shouted a curse at the judge, she slammed the gavel down again. “The court rules in favor of the plaintiff, Ms. Amanda Banning. Dissolution of the marriage is granted and will be final in ninety days. Mr. Banning is granted court-supervised bimonthly visitation with his daughter, two hours per visit. Under no circumstances shall the child be alone with her father. If Mr. Banning is found to be innocent of the abuse charges in a Eureka court of law, the presiding judge can, and undoubtedly will, grant the father a more lenient visitation plan.”

After releasing a pent-up breath, Amanda grabbed for more oxygen, her lungs burning.
We won!
The decision was in Chloe’s favor. She’d be kept safe. Amanda couldn’t think beyond that.

“But, Your Honor,” Mark’s attorney cried, “this is—”

The judge used her gavel again. “The court has ruled.”

Amanda wanted to shout with joy, but instead she grasped the desk edge and clamped down with her fingers to stop from making a sound.

Mark leaped from the witness stand and rammed into the bailiff with such force that he sent the unprepared officer reeling off his feet. For Amanda everything went into freeze-frame mode. She saw Mark charging toward her, but time seemed to stop after each stride he took. Something white slipped from the right sleeve of his
sport coat. “You lying, treacherous
bitch
! I’m a fit father, damn you! The breadwinner! My daughter has never gone without a single necessity!”

Amanda’s gaze froze on the object in Mark’s hand. With one terrified glance, she took in a serrated, heavy-duty plastic tool sharpened to a deadly point and less than a foot long—able to lie along Mark’s forearm between his wrist and the bend of his elbow.

And he meant to kill her with it.

Clyde Johnson, standing before the judge’s bench, had been only momentarily caught off guard, and he whirled to block Mark’s path, but the assailant’s momentum knocked the attorney back against the table.

“Order in the court!” the judge screamed. “Resume your seat, Mr. Banning!”

Amanda knew no one could stop Mark. She had to stop him herself. Shooting to her feet, she grabbed the arms of her chair and, with strength she never realized she possessed, swung the heavy piece of furniture up to shield herself just as Mark, now with only the table between them, slashed at her with the weapon. The chair lurched in her grasp as the hard, sharpened plastic dug into the underside of the leather-covered seat.

She heard a woman scream. Jeb’s voice rang out. “Get out of my way, damn it! Out of my
way
!”

Amanda dimly realized that Jeb’s path was blocked by people who’d sprung to their feet.
Alone, I’m all alone
. As that thought sank into her brain, anger exploded within her. In flashes, she saw a series of images, all of Mark coming after her. Always before, she’d been so scared that she couldn’t think.
Not this time
. She swung the chair at Mark, nearly knocking him off balance. With a flurry of jabs, he came at her again with the blade. She met each thrust with
the chair, knowing that if he got past the barrier it made, she’d be dead.

In a blur, she saw Johnson regain his footing. It didn’t matter if Jeb could reach her or if Johnson could intervene. She’d learned over the last many months that she
could
stand on her own two feet. She’d learned that she
wasn’t
stupid or ugly. But most important, she’d imagined herself taking Mark on, time after time, with nothing but a cast-iron skillet or a butcher knife. A heavy upholstered chair worked better. No matter how much force Mark put behind his thrusts, he couldn’t penetrate wood and leather, and he couldn’t knock her down as long as the sturdy table was between them.

She would defend herself this time—or die trying. She’d finally found happiness for both her and Chloe, and she would
not
allow Mark to steal that from either of them.

When Mark drew back to take another stab at her, Amanda saw an opening and swung the chair at him again. He staggered but didn’t go down. He looked startled for an instant, and then pure murder returned to his blue eyes. Crazy, mindless, maniacal rage. Shouts rang out from behind her. She heard another woman scream. In her peripheral vision, she saw the bailiff regain his feet. From a side doorway, she glimpsed other officers bursting into the courtroom.

“I
told
you I’d see you dead if you ever ran from me!” Mark yelled. “Stupid cow!”

Amanda wished she had the strength to raise the chair high enough to bring it down on his head. But that would leave her body unprotected, and he would stab her. It was safer to let the wood and upholstery take the punishment. Somewhere in the din, she heard Jeb yell
again, “Get the
hell
out of my way!” So she knew he was coming. She would hold Mark off until Jeb could tackle him.

Only it wasn’t Jeb who body-slammed Mark. It was the big, burly Johnson, her cranky but kindhearted attorney. He lunged forward, body hunched, and launched himself into a tackle, colliding with Mark on his right and grabbing his legs. Mark hurtled sideways and hit the floor near the witness box like a felled tree.

Clearly prepared for a tussle, Johnson said in a voice gruff with anger, “Move, you miserable son of a bitch. Just try it.”

Court deputies rushed forward, guns drawn. But Mark didn’t move. Amanda, still holding the chair up with trembling arms, stared in mounting horror at her husband’s still body. He lay with one arm flung outward. His other arm, the one that had been brandishing the knife, was tucked under his body. Stunned, her brain struggling to make sense of what she was seeing, she felt frozen in place.

Johnson rose to his knees. “Oh, God, did he hit his head? He’s unconscious.”

The stupefied bailiff collected his wits and went down on one knee to probe Mark’s neck. “Call an ambulance!” he yelled. “No pulse! I’ve got no pulse!”

Amanda dropped the chair, her overstrained arms dangling uselessly at her sides. Her gaze fixed on the crimson pool of blood seeping out from under Mark’s body, she blinked away black spots and struggled not to collapse. Suddenly strong arms encircled her torso to hold her erect. She
recognized
those arms.

“I tried to sit right behind you, but strangers took the first row. When he went after you, everybody panicked
and left their seats. I couldn’t get to you. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

A big hand curled over the back of Amanda’s head and turned her face against a chest that she had explored many times with her fingertips. “I think he’s gone, sweetheart. Don’t look.”

Amanda registered Jeb’s words and decided that she preferred to remember Mark this way. At least then maybe she wouldn’t awaken from nightmares for the rest of her life, seeing him come after her or Chloe. She resisted the press of Jeb’s palm and turned, still safe in his embrace, to stare at her dead husband. All she could think was that God had answered her prayer. Mark would never harm Chloe again.

*   *   *

Amanda had to answer only a few questions once the police descended upon the courtroom. Mark had made his last attempt on her life in front of too many witnesses, a judge included, for there to be any uncertainties about the cause of his injury. Amanda would always remember the judge’s kindly gaze settling briefly upon her face before she told the police, “Leave the poor woman alone. He tried to kill her. I saw it, and his death was an accident. When Mr. Johnson tackled him to protect his client, Mr. Banning fell onto the lethal weapon in his hand and impaled himself.”

The police officers seemed disinclined to badger a presiding judge with questions. The usual investigative procedures were disregarded. Paramedics removed Mark’s body from the scene, and all that remained of him was a dark, quickly drying pool of blood on the mottled gray tile. Spectators lingered until the judge ordered everyone but the involved parties to leave her courtroom.

Still robed, she descended from her bench to approach Amanda, who remained in the safe circle of Jeb’s arms. Jeb released her to stand alone to face the judge, but he kept a firm grip on her elbow in case her legs went out from under her.

The older woman grasped Amanda’s icy hands. “I apologize for this. The metal detector couldn’t pick up on a plastic weapon, and the officers obviously failed to check the forearms during their standard pat-down.”

Amanda struggled to register what the judge said. Her voice seemed to ping off the walls of her mind like ricocheting BBs.

The judge went on to say, “That knife probably lay flat against his arm, not creating the usual bulge, so the court deputy might have missed it if he did pat the forearms. Mr. Banning filed the handle down to make it as streamlined as possible.” She squeezed Amanda’s hands, then glanced at the crimson evidence of Mark’s sudden departure from this world. “It’s clear to me that your husband knew that he would be prosecuted and serve a sentence for the horrible things he did to you and your little girl. Today’s hearing and my judgment pushed him over the edge.”

Amanda finally collected her wits. “He saw his life crumbling.”

“I’ve had many men like Mark Banning come before my bench.” The judge stepped back. Tipping her blond head, she studied Jeb’s tanned countenance. With a smile at Amanda, she said, “I think you’ve found happiness now with someone else. You need to move forward and put the past behind you. I know it will be difficult, but try your best not to hate Mr. Banning. You’ll heal more quickly and be better off in the long run if you simply accept that he couldn’t help being what he was.”