Revealing Annie - Freya Barker Page 0,91
I’ve come to find out, her daughter—smiles when I walk into the office. I was here last week to see if Mel would help me deal with Miles Coxwell. The man has been relentless, talking to the gossip rags, connecting my name to the arrest of Ted Murphy, something the cops had tried hard to avoid. As a result, there have been paparazzi around town, and it’s only a matter of time before they land on our doorstep.
Mel called me in to talk about a strategy for dealing with them.
“How are you, Lindsey?”
“I’m good. Heading off on vacation on Monday so I’ll be even better.”
“Oh yeah? Where are you off to?”
“South of France with a couple of friends. One of the girls is getting married,” she says with a big grin when Mel comes walking down the hallway. Barefoot again.
“That’s what kids do these days,” Mel says, shaking her head. “Instead of getting a few drinks, or hitting up a strip club for a bachelorette party, they turn it into a damn European vacation for a week. Most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. The money spent on weddings is already outrageous. No wonder the divorce rate was up again last year.”
“Oh, quit your complaining,” her daughter fires back. “That divorce rate keeps you in business.”
I’m having a hard time not bursting out laughing at these two. I wait for Mel to fire back but instead she tilts her head, shrugs her shoulders, and says, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
She invites me back with a grand gesture, and I’m still chuckling when I take a seat in front of her desk.
“Miles Coxwell is the dried slime at the bottom of a bucket of eels.”
“That may be the most apt description of him I’ve heard,” I tell her with a grin. She shoots me a rare one back. The woman is striking when she wears her resting bitch face but when she smiles, damn, she’s gorgeous. “I gather you’ve had contact?”
“Yes, and for the record, I could’ve happily lived out the rest of my life without that pleasant experience. He’s a scumbag, but a smart scumbag. He clued in pretty fast I wasn’t messing around when I told him I’d not only drag his ass in court with a civil suit that would make his ears ring, but I’d call my buddy in the Los Angeles DA’s office and make sure he’d get nailed with a felony charge for providing false information leading to a homicide. He didn’t like the sound of that.”
“You have a buddy in the DA’s office?” She never mentioned that in our discussion last week.
“Well…not right now, but I make friends easily,” she deadpans, and I start laughing again. “Anyway, he agreed to have your things shipped to my office—I don’t trust him with your address—and will refrain from speaking to any press about you.
“He’s aware if at any time he fails to adhere to those directives, I will follow through on the civil suit and will pursue felony charges against him. Linds is working on the written agreement we will shoot off to his lawyer. I’ll need you to sign it before you leave.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“No thanks needed. I live for taking assholes with underdeveloped genitals down. It was my complete and utter pleasure. Now, about Bryce. I’ve tried calling Kyle but I guess he’s working?”
“Yes, his shift doesn’t end ’til seven tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.” She shoves an envelope across the desk. “This is the emergency temporary custody order the judge signed off on this morning.”
“Thank you so much for pushing this through.” I take the envelope and stuff it in my purse.
Kyle had run into a snag trying to enroll Bryce in the local high school. The school secretary made it clear the limited paperwork he had for his son wouldn’t be enough. We were missing health and immunization records, previous academic records, and most important of all—since Kyle’s name was left off Bryce’s birth certificate and he only has the lab test to prove paternity—proof of guardianship or custody.
Bryce will have to do an academic equivalence exam because he missed at least one year of school while in Boise with his mother, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to pass that. His eidetic memory will come in helpful; he’s been cramming in preparation every night these past two weeks. Even though he’s already missed the first days of school, he’s determined to make it into ninth grade like his buddies up at