28. Savannah
Despite their best efforts, Jessie and Jerry were unable to apprehend Amy. Her distance and speed gave her a significant head start. After Jessie and Jerry returned, the “Shaw Squad” conducted a thorough perimeter sweep of the building, giving us the “all clear.” The space from the church’s front steps to where Amy had been standing and watching was just over 200 yards, the minimum requirement that she must maintain without violating her restraining order.
We secure the family in the vehicles idling by the curb, and the drive to the house takes about ten minutes. No sooner is the family safely ensconced inside than I turn toward the two teams and ask, “How did Amy get so close without any of us noticing? That shouldn’t have happened.”
Roger speaks up first, “She didn’t appear on the sidewalk across the street until people started filtering out. I had a micro-camera on each side of the building and was monitoring the feeds during the service. She must have been sitting in the coffee shop prior to our arrival or ducked in and waited while I was mounting the cameras to the exterior.”
The micro-cameras we use are extremely small and have an adhesive backing. To a person passing by, they would look like a tiny piece of debris or a small bug. We can slap and stick them nearly anywhere and then remotely turn them on.
“At least the cameras are still there. As long as it doesn’t rain in the next week, we’ll have eyes at the church long before we arrive,” I say.
Jessie steps forward, “Since there are seven of us, we can always send a scout force when the whole family will be traveling together.”
“Sounds good,” I say.
Everyone’s phones start chiming, and I look to see the nature of the alert. A black town car is at the gates, and the request to enter is from Mr. Gerald McFadden. I do a quick internet search and sigh when his profile comes up. “It’s a lawyer.”
Aiden, having received the same alert on his phone, joins us outside. “I don’t know who that man is, so I didn’t permit him entry.”
I show him my screen, and he squints to read it. Aiden makes a quick call, and the next thing I know, the town car is coming up the driveway. A man in a dark suit with slicked-back dark hair emerges from the vehicle carrying a manila envelope. He walks toward Aiden, and all of us form a perimeter.
“That’s far enough, Mr. McFadden. State your business,” Scott demands.
Gerald’s sleazy smile makes an appearance before he says, “I need to speak with Aiden Shaw.”
Aiden tries to push through our human wall, but we deny him. “I’m Aiden Shaw,” he says over our shoulders.
“Great. Here you go.” Gerald tries to hand him the envelope, but I take it from him instead.
“What’s this?” I ask, fairly certain I know the answer.
Gerald ignores me and stares at Aiden, “Mr. Shaw, you’ve been served. You have a custody hearing in 12 days, Friday at 2:00 p.m.”
Aiden nearly flips his lid, “That’s in less than two weeks and the day before the playoffs! This is ridiculous! Patricia signed away all of her parental rights to Penny!”
Gerald shrugs, “You might be correct, and you’ll probably win just for showing up, Mr. Shaw. But win or lose, we still make $400 an hour and have no problems dragging this out. If your ex-wife wants to sue for custody and is willing to pay, then so be it. I think you might find the information in the envelope quite compelling.”
This guy is more than sleazy. He’s a dirty crook, and I don’t like the way he smells. “Are the O’Sullivans your clients as well?” I ask on a whim.
His startled expression is all the answer I need, but he quickly schools his features and says, “That’s attorney-client privilege. Have a good day.”
Once Gerald is gone, Aiden looks at me perplexed. “Why did you ask him that?”
“Call it a hunch. I think Patricia and her lawsuit are somehow connected to the O’Sullivans. The rushed nature of the lawsuit and the timing of the court date are setting off all kinds of alarm bells for me.” I begin pacing and biting my thumbnail while I try to put together the puzzle pieces.
Aiden steps in my path and wraps his fingers around my wrist, gently pulling my hand away from my mouth to prevent myself from chewing my nail down to the nub. “How are they connected, Anna?”
“I don’t know, Aiden. But that’s what I intend to find out. More importantly, I’m going to need your help to do it.”
Aiden has three away games this week, so he won’t be around, which makes implementing our plan a bit more difficult. With time running out, the moment he gets back, we’ll have to go for a power play.
Martha and Reggie sift through the legal documentation that had been delivered to Aiden for the hundredth time, unable to comprehend that Patricia filed a custody suit. She isn’t simply asking for visitation. She’s seeking full custody, along with $50,000 a month in child support. We all know that the money is the real reason behind the suit, not that Patricia truly wants to take care of her daughter.
Aiden may have the paperwork from his divorce from Patricia in which she gave up any right to Penny, but now she’s saying that she signed under duress and that her signature isn’t valid. In addition, she states that Aiden is guilty of “child endangerment” because there was an attempt on Aiden’s life, yet he still takes Penny out in public.
Penny has remained at home since the incident, and the only time she’s been out and about has been for church. Despite Aiden’s daughter being surrounded by as many as seven bodyguards—there is always a chance that the judge may still side with Patricia. Adding fuel to the fire, pictures of me with Sean and Conor O’Sullivan at the grocery store were in the envelope Gerald McFadden had handed to Aiden. Nothing about my demeanor indicates that I was being intimidated, but then again, Patricia and her legal team have no idea that we have a video of the entire conversation.
Aiden still had the ace in his pocket, so he photocopied all of the evidence he had and gave it to Roger, who, in turn, handed them over to the FBI. Roger ensured that the person he gave them to was someone he trusted, his best friend and mentor, Deputy Director Robert Finnegan.
There’s not much we can do until the court date other than let Aiden’s lawyers handle it and feed them information as it comes in. In the meantime, those of us who have remained here watch the Rockets play from the comfort of the living room. We whoop and holler, rooting for the guys as they try to gain more points to solidify their standing.
Aiden has always been a leader both on and off the ice, but for the three away games, it was definitely more “off.” He skated when the other two centers were exhausted or if the team needed to regain the lead, but Swank played like a man possessed and helped the Rockets bring home three more victories. By adding six points to their standing, they have moved into the top twelve in the league. The next three games will all be played here in Savannah, and I’ll be attending.
I take a few extra minutes to tuck Penny into bed while she reads me a story. She chooses one of my favorites—The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien. Penny yawns after she finishes the first chapter and places a bookmark between the pages.
“I’ll read a chapter to you every night, Anna. Can I still call you that since your name is Savannah?”
“I don’t see why not. It’s a shortened version of my name. Jerry sometimes calls me ‘Savvy,’ and Jessie occasionally calls me a Butthead. So, if you want to continue to call me ‘Anna,’ that’s perfectly fine by me.”
Penny puts the book back on the shelf and then snuggles in under the covers so only her head peeks out. “I’ll only have to call you ‘Anna’ for a little bit longer. Soon, I’ll get to call you ‘Mom.’”
I kiss her forehead and wish her a good night, not commenting on her last statement. I shut off the light and head downstairs to wait for Aiden, who will be home soon. I’ll need to talk to him about how we should address our fake engagement with Penny.
It was one thing to keep my job a secret from Penny, and I shouldn’t have told her I was a bodyguard. But after protecting her twice and barking orders both times, it wouldn’t have been long before she figured it out on her own. That’s assuming she hadn’t already. Letting her continue to pin her hopes on something that’s not real feels wrong on all sorts of levels.
When I get to the living room, I expect to see Martha and Reggie, yet only Jerry and Jessie are there waiting for me. Jerry is scrubbing video feeds from the surveillance system—although there haven’t been any pings—and Jessie is scrolling through something on her phone. Plopping myself between the two of them, I lean back and sigh.
“What are you guys looking for, and where did Martha and Reggie go?”
Jessie smirks and winks. “They went home. I think they needed some couples’ therapy if you know what I mean.”
“I didn’t know they were in therapy. They seem so happy and cute together,” I say.
Jerry chuckles, “You can’t be that dense, Savvy.”
It dawns on me what Jessie is referring to, and my face scrunches up reflexively. Not wanting to go down that path, I ask again, “What are you guys searching for?”
Jerry clicks a few more keys before answering me. “It’s been too quiet around here, so I double-checked the video footage.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Yes, but not from the cameras we installed. Look at this,” he says as he pulls up the video from the front gate security shack. “This was from Monday, as Aiden and the guys were leaving for their five-day road trip. When they pull out of the driveway, you can see Amy sitting on the front porch of the house across the street.”
“Can you zoom in on her so I can read her facial expression?” I ask. He does, and she seems to be forlorn when Aiden’s car passes by. I expect her to get in her car and follow him, but she does something else entirely. She buries her face in her hands and cries. After about ten minutes, she leaves.
“That’s different,” Jessie says.
“Yeah, it is, and not only her tears. If you look into her eyes, they’re sad and full of emotion. When we caught her on the property, her eyes were hollow and distant. I don’t think that’s Amy Smith we’re looking at. I think that’s Amy Potslawski,” I state, unsure of what this development could mean for us.
Jessie throws up her hands in exasperation. “Great! Now, we have both of Amy’s personalities to contend with. At least when she’s Amy Smith, we know what her motives are. Can this situation get any worse?”
I close my eyes and absorb a moment of peace before I tell her, “Jessie, it can always get worse. Remember that it’s always darkest before the dawn.”