Chapter 38
Two days later, when I pull into my driveway for the parole visit, Mr. Franklin’s greenish Toyota Camry follows me in.
There’s multiple cars already parked in the gravel.
I frown, then realize that the other cars must belong to the contractor and mold remediators.
I park way off to the side, hoping that this whole thing won’t start Mr. Franklin off in a bad mood.
But when I walk through the gate to the backyard--Mr. Franklin following a little too closely for comfort--Alex isn’t the only one waiting for us.
Mack stands at the sight of me, frowning at the man behind me.
With him is an attractive middle-aged guy in an expensive suit, as well as Mike, the Sheriff, though he’s in street clothes.
Mack comes to my side and takes my hand. I swear I can feel Mr. Franklin get angry.
“Who are these men?” Mr. Franklin turns to me with a snarl. “Gabriella, you know you can’t have guests without my approval.”
“That’s categorically untrue, Mr. Franklin, and you know it.” The middle-aged man rises from his chair and buttons his suit jacket.
“Who are you?” Mr. Franklin snaps.
“My name is Henry Regis. I’m Miss Ramos’s attorney. I thought I should introduce myself, because if things don't change drastically in this very instant, you and I are going to be seeing quite a lot of each other.”
My breath catches. It’s a bluff. I don’t have a lawyer.
But Mr. Franklin pauses. I wonder if it’s going to be that easy, if he’s going to back down just like that. I really should have known better.
“I’m calling my boss.” He turns to me. “Gabriella, you hired an attorney? Do you know how bad this makes you look? How guilty?”
Mr. Regis gives a sharp smile. “For the remainder of this visit, I’ll kindly ask that you don’t address my client directly.
And should there ever be the need for you to do so in the future, you may address her as Miss Ramos.
But seeing as though I plan to be present for each and every future visit you make to this home, I don't think you’ll ever need to speak to her again. ”
“I don't have to notify you of a search,” he sneers. “I’m a parole officer.”
“You are Mr. Ramos’s parole officer,” Mr. Regis says. “You have no right to search Miss Ramos’s distinct and separate residence without notice.”
I jerk. I want to interrupt and demand to know if that’s true. Mack squeezes my hand like he knows it. Even more than I want to know if that’s true, I want to see Mr. Franklin have his ass handed to him. The best way to do that is to stand and watch.
Mr. Franklin points at the back door, the one marked clearly in mold remediation warnings. “Alex has access to the house. He uses parts of the house as his primary residence.”
“How do you figure?”
“He has keys to the house, for one.”
I stiffen and say, “Alex only has keys because Mr. Franklin told me he needed them.”
“Is that true, Mr. Franklin?” Mr. Regis says with another shark-like smile.
“I need access to his residence,” he says mulishly. He points to the ground. “This is his residence.”
“The pool house is his separate, distinct residence. You have full rights to search that whenever you wish. Though you should be aware that this entire property is being wired for audio and video surveillance tomorrow. To prevent any possible confusion in the future.”
“Alex uses the kitchen,” Mr. Franklin argues. “He uses the laundry room.”
“The laundry room is accessed from the outside.” Mr. Regis turns to my brother. “Alex, do you cook?”
He shrugs. “No. I have a fridge and a microwave in my apartment.”
“Do you ever use the kitchen when your sister isn’t home?”
Alex shakes his head. “No.”
“Do you ever come into the house when your sister isn’t home?”
“I did once.” Alex fidgets. “I put my computer and my cell phone in the house to…”
I hold my breath, hoping that my brother isn't going to be so stupid as to tell his parole officer that he ran away.
“...to keep them safe,” he finishes lamely.
Mack squeezes my hand again like he heard my sigh of relief.
“Wonderful,” Mr. Regis says. “Alex, please give your sister the keys to her house.”
Alex rummages in his pocket, slides my key ring off of his single key, then hands them over.
“Excellent.” Mr. Regis gives a wide smile. “Now Alex no longer has access to this distinct, separate domicile.”
“I still have a right to search it.” Mr. Franklin is red in the face. “And I don’t have to notify her or you, just ‘cause you’re her lawyer. You can't be here every time I am.”
“But I can.” Mike stands from his chair. The Sheriff is taller and bigger than I realized the first time I met him. “Gabriella can call me anytime, and either myself or one of my deputies will respond.”
I try not to look surprised at the offer.
“Who are you?” Mr. Franklin says, and for the first time, his tone is cautious. He might not respect me or Mr. Regis, but apparently he respects law enforcement.
“I'm the Sheriff of Haven County, but you can call me Mike. I’ll consider any call from Miss Ramos a priority, day or night.” He hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans like he’s used to wearing a gun belt.
“I consider it a personal affront when law enforcement oversteps their bounds and misuses their authority. It gives the good men and women in law enforcement a bad name. I simply won’t stand for something of that nature happening in my jurisdiction if I can help it. ”
Mr. Franklin points his narrow-eyed stare at me, then Mr. Regis, then Mike. “Fine,” he finally spits. “Alex, let’s go search your house.”
“I think I’m going to help you with this one,” Mike says, real friendly.
He follows Mr. Franklin and Alex to the pool house.
I sit next to Mack and listen to Mr. Franklin banging stuff around in there.
Alex stands outside; Mike stands in the doorway watching, his arms crossed over his chest. At one point Mr. Franklin must move into the bathroom, because Mike follows him in to watch.
I'm exceedingly grateful--I wouldn't put it past the man to plant something out of spite.
Finally, it’s over. Mr. Franklin gives Alex his usual lecture about going to work and staying out of trouble. His eyes slide to me several times. The third time he looks, Mack leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees as if he’s trying to block Mr. Franklin’s view.
Then he’s gone--peeling his Toyota out of the driveway fast enough to kick up rocks. I let out a sigh of relief.
Mike drawls, “In my professional opinion, that man is an asshole.”
But Mr. Regis looks grim. “I think we should request a transfer. I golf with his boss; I could put in a word.”
“We’re working on something else,” Mack says. “Give us a few weeks. If it doesn’t work out, we might need that favor. But no use burning it if we don't have to.”
Mack shakes the men’s hands and sees them out. Alex goes to reorganize his pool house.
When Mack returns, he puts a gentle hand on the back of my neck. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say. “That was awesome.”
“It was a start.”