Chapter 5: The Solicitor's Office
Renata was waiting at the door when I arrived.
She didn't say anything.
She just took Juniper from me, held her for a long moment with her eyes closed, then carried her inside.
I followed.
We sat in her kitchen while Juniper slept in the next room.
Renata made tea neither of us drank.
She had Willa's notes printed out on the table between us — seven pages, handwritten and then photographed, dates in the margins, times underlined.
"She's thorough," Renata said.
"She was protecting Juniper when I wasn't there to do it."
Renata looked at the pages.
"I should have listened more carefully when she first called."
"You didn't know what you were hearing yet."
"No." She turned one page over.
"But I do now."
We sat with that for a moment.
"I'm calling my solicitor first thing tomorrow," I said.
"I want to know what we're looking at legally.
The recording, the notes, the call Orson made to you — I want to know if any of it constitutes something actionable."
"My solicitor said the call alone could be relevant if there's a pattern of interference." She looked up.
"And there clearly is a pattern."
"He's done this before," I said.
"Not like this.
Not with Juniper.
But this kind of maneuvering — I've seen it my whole life.
He moves pieces.
He waits.
He makes you feel like you're the one who's out of step."
"I know." She said it simply, without accusation.
"It's part of why I left."
I looked at her.
"Not the only reason," she said.
"But part of it.
Being around your family made me feel like I was always one step behind a conversation I hadn't been invited to."
I hadn't known that.
Or maybe I had known it and hadn't let myself look at it directly.
"I'm sorry," I said.
She shook her head.
"That's not what tonight is about."
"No.
But I'm still sorry."
She picked up her tea, looked at it, set it back down.
"What are you going to do if he fights it?" she asked.
"Then I use everything Willa gave us."
"And Tabitha?"
"Tabitha did what she was told.
She always has." I thought about her face when I'd asked the question about the inhaler pouch.
The way the confidence had slipped for just a moment before she'd recovered it.
"She knew it was wrong.
She did it anyway."
"That doesn't make her less responsible."
"No.
It doesn't."
My phone lit up on the table.
A message from an unknown number.
I turned it over and read it.
*This is Willa.
I got a new number.
I need to tell you something I didn't say in front of them.
Can we talk tomorrow?*
I typed back: *Yes.
Anytime.
Thank you, Willa.*
Three dots appeared.
Then:
*There's something about Orson and the custody paperwork you don't know yet.
It's worse than the phone call.*
I stared at the screen.
Renata leaned forward.
"What is it?"
I turned the phone so she could read it.
She read it twice.
Then she looked up at me, and whatever she'd been holding back all evening finally showed in her face.
May you like
"Callum," she said.
"What has he done?"
