A Nest of Sparrows Page 11

  He glanced out the window, watching Parnell’s car leave the driveway in a cloud of dust. When the car turned onto the main road, Wade led the children over to the sofa. “Sit down here for a minute. I need to talk to you guys.”

  “But we’re gonna be late for school,” Beau protested.

  Wade took a deep breath and massaged his temples. “I don’t think you’re going to school today,” he said.

  “Why not, Wade?” Dani looked up at him, her big blue eyes pools of puzzlement.

  He didn’t have an answer. Every instinct told him to pack a suitcase, load the children into the car, and drive as far south as Starr’s car and his bank account would take them. “Listen, guys. Your father has come all the way from Minneapolis and he…he wants to spend some time with you.”

  Beau’s eyes narrowed. “He said he wanted to take us back there.”

  “I know, I know.” Wade paced to the window that overlooked the drive, then back to the sofa. “Do you want to do that, Beau?” he asked suddenly. “Do you want to go with your dad?”

  He’d never considered that the kids––Beau especially––might want to be with their dad. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come, regretting he’d given it voice.

  “No,” Beau said, rubbing the toe of his tennis shoe on the corner of the rug. “I don’t want to see him unless you can come too.”

  “Well, I don’t––” Lacey’s words were eaten up by a spasm of coughing that sent a chill through Wade. “I don’t wanna go,” she said, when she finally caught her breath.

  “Me either,” Dani said. Her lower lip quivered and she burst into tears.

  “Hey, hey…it’s okay.” Wade scooped her onto his lap and cradled her in his arms. “It’s going to be all right. I’m not going to let anything happen to you guys.”

  “Why can’t you go with us, Wade?” Beau asked.

  “It just”––he scrambled unsuccessfully for an answer that would make sense to a nine-year-old––“It doesn’t work that way, bud. I have my business with Pete to take care of. And the house. I can’t just up and leave,” he finished lamely.

  “Then I don’t wanna go with him. Can’t he just visit us here?”

  “I don’t know, Beau. I don’t know.” He thought for a minute. “Maybe…maybe it would be best if you guys go to school today, after all. Yes…” Gently, he slid Dani off his lap and stood. “Go get your things. I’ll take you to school.”

  “We’re already late,” Beau said.

  “I know. I’ll explain to your teachers.”

  All three of them stared at him.

  “Well? Come on…go get your stuff. It’s okay, guys. I’ll have everything sorted out when you get home.”

  Reluctantly the children moved toward the kitchen, gathering jackets and backpacks along the way. But Wade could see they didn’t fully understand––or fully trust––his words. He shot a desperate prayer heavenward that by this afternoon he could give them an honest reason to trust him.

  With its gleaming mahogany-paneled walls and high-dollar furnishings, the waiting room of Locke & Locke, Attorneys at Law looked like something straight out of a fancy architectural magazine. Classical music wafted at a barely audible volume from invisible speakers in the ceiling.

  Wade sat on the edge of a burnished leather sofa rubbing his hands together, taking in the elegant space, breathing in the rich scent of fine leather. Rather pretentious for a lawyer in a tiny county seat, he thought. The sofa alone probably cost more than he made in two months. How would he ever afford the attorney’s fees?

  But he had no choice. Feeling like a coiled spring, he pushed himself off the sofa and went to the narrow window that overlooked the parking lot. “God,” he whispered, “You’ve got to let me keep my kids. Please, Lord, I can’t lose them.”

  The tap tap tap of the receptionist’s typing stopped abruptly, and he realized his whisper had blossomed several decibels. Biting his tongue, he paced the length of the room half a dozen times before sinking back onto the sofa. He buried his hands under his thighs on the smooth leather of the sofa and willed himself to sit still. His prayer became a silent litany. Please, God. Please, God. Please…

  Finally, the receptionist called his name. He rose and followed her down a long corridor and into an office as swank as the reception room.

  Frank Locke finished signing some papers on his desk, then looked up with a white-toothed smile and pushed away from his desk. He stood half-mast and reached across the desk to shake Wade’s hand before sitting back down. “Please…have a seat. How can I help you, Mr. Sullivan?”

  Wade took the chair the lawyer indicated. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I need to find out how to get custody of my fiancée’s three children.” He cleared his throat again, swallowed hard. “She died in March. The kids have been with me ever since, but I…never bothered to get legal guardianship of them.”

  “I see,” said the attorney, putting an elbow on his desk and resting his chin on his fist. “Are there other relatives who might want custody of the children?”

  Wade looked at the floor and scuffed his shoe on the plush carpeting. “That’s why I’m here. Their father showed up out of the blue on my doorstep this morning wanting to take the kids back to Minneapolis.”

  Frank Locke leaned back in his chair, as though dismissing him. “Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Sullivan, but that’s most likely his right as the children’s biological father.”

  “You don’t understand.” Wade sat forward and rested his elbows on Locke’s desk. “Starr––the children’s mother––divorced him more than four years ago. The girls don’t even remember him. The man has never paid one red cent of child support.”

  “But now he suddenly wants to take the children to live with him?” Locke sounded skeptical.

  “So he says. He’s never even met the littlest one. He tried to force Starr to have an abortion when she found out she was pregnant with Dani. He was––”

  “Wait,” Locke interjected, holding up a hand. “How old are the children now?”

  Wade ticked off names and ages. “He abused Starr for years. Beat her.”

  Locke looked up with interest. “Did he ever harm the children?”

  It was an angle Wade hadn’t thought of. For one desperate moment, he was tempted to lie. Starr had told him she finally got out of the marriage because she was afraid the children would be Darrin’s next targets. Wade had always taken that to mean Parnell had never laid a hand on the kids. He told the lawyer as much now.

  “I see. Unfortunately, it might be better for you, Mr. Sullivan, if he had abused the children. Of course, that would be difficult to prove unless the police were involved.”

  Wade’s hopes rose another notch. “I know the police were called to the house in Minneapolis at least one time. Starr’s sister made the call.”

  “Did the sister witness the beatings?”

  “I’m not sure. She saw the results, I know that.”

  “Would she be willing to testify to that fact? And perhaps to his treatment of his children?”

  “I think she would. She lives here in Coyote now. Sophia Braden is her name.”

  Locke slid a gray legal pad in front of him, took a slender pen from his shirt pocket, and wrote for several minutes. Wade tried to make out his notes across the desk, but the lawyer’s handwriting looked like some sort of cryptic shorthand.

  “What is Mr. Parnell’s occupation?”

  “He was working for an insurance company last Starr heard.” Wade remembered the fancy briefcase Parnell had been carrying this morning. “He was in sales, I think. But like I said, she hadn’t heard from the guy in over four years.”

  Frank Locke raised an eyebrow. “Is there an insurance settlement or an inheritance or some financial motive that might be prodding Mr. Parnell’s sudden interest in the children?”

  The thought had crossed Wade’s mind, but he hesitated to broach the subject now for fear it would expose his own neglige
nce. “I know Starr had a life insurance policy with the nursing home she worked for. I…I never really pursued it. I didn’t figure it would amount to much.”

  The attorney clicked the pen absently. “Apparently Mr. Parnell thinks otherwise. You don’t know how much the policy is worth?”

  Wade shook his head.

  “What we need to do is file a guardianship action in district court. At the least, we can hope for the judge to order that the kids be placed in your legal custody. Since they’ve been with you since their mother’s death, chances are good the judge will be receptive to that. But the biological father will have to be notified of your filing, so we must assume he will protest it.”

  “And what if he does?”

  “Then it will go to court. If we can prove he abused the children or even that he was abusive to their mother, the judge will probably at least give you temporary custody. But if this guy wants to fight it, I have to warn you that the courts tend to favor the biological parent.”

  A thread of fear crept up Wade’s spine. “But Parnell’s coming for the kids today. In just a few hours. What if he tries to take them? Forcefully?”

  “Believe me, that would only help your case, Mr. Sullivan. He’d be a fool if he tried. But if you truly think he might be abusive, to be on the safe side, it might be best if the children are…uh…not there when he arrives.”

  Where could he take them? Wade thought of Sophie but dismissed her immediately. She’d be the first one Parnell would think of. But Pete and Margie would take the kids for the night. They’d be safe there.

  Chapter 16

  Sophia Braden blew a strand of blond hair off her forehead and went to get the coffeepots. It wasn’t even eleven-thirty, and the café was already swarming with customers. From the looks of the sea of polo shirts and sunburned noses, there must be a golf tournament in town. She was way behind on refills, and her tips would prove it if she didn’t get a move on. Lydia was on a smoke break, and like a fool, Sophie had agreed to cover her section. She was going to have to take up smoking again just so she could get a break now and then.

  With one hand, she grabbed the handles of a pot of decaf and a half-full carafe of regular, and headed for Lydia’s tables.

  “Anyone care for more coffee here?” she asked a foursome of senior citizens in a heated discussion about the golf game they’d just finished.

  “Well! There she is,” one silver-haired gentleman crowed. “We thought you’d forgotten about us, pretty lady.” He leered and reached out to put a hand on her waist.

  Sophie didn’t think she’d ever get used to having old geezers flirt with her, but she pasted on a smile. “I’m so sorry. We’re shorthanded this morning. Can I get you fellas any dessert?”

  They all waved her off, patting their ample bellies. She finished pouring coffee and moved to the next booth, whose occupant was engrossed in today’s issue of the Coyote Courier.

  “Can I refill your coffee, sir?”

  The sandy-haired man folded the paper slowly and looked up at her with a knowing smile on his face.

  Sophie gasped and involuntarily took two steps backward, almost losing her grip on the coffeepot.

  “Hello there, Sophie.”

  “Darrin!” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Motherless children need their father.”

  Sophie’s mind churned. She knew Wade had tried to contact him after the funeral, but he’d said he had only run into dead ends.

  “They already have a father, Darrin. The kids are with Starr’s…husband,” she lied. “They’re happy where they are. Just leave them be.”

  “Sophie, you know I can’t do that. I owe it to the kids. Starr would have wanted them to be with me. You know that.”

  She’d forgotten the velvety timbre of his voice. He’d put on a little weight and his hair was longer. He looked good.

  He reached out and touched her arm, his deep-set eyes searching hers in a way that made her squirm inside. She pulled her arm away, sloshing coffee out onto the already stained carpeting. The man had something up his sleeve.

  “You liar,” she hissed, “Starr would have wanted you to burn in––”

  “Save it, Sophe.” He held up a hand. “Sorry, sis, but your memory’s obviously a little messed up. Those drugs’ll do that to you, you know?” He sneered and scooted his coffee mug to the edge of the table. “I’ll take half a cup. Decaf, thanks.”

  Boiling inside, Sophie resisted the urge to overflow his coffee cup into his lap. “What do you want from me?” she sneered.

  “I want you to help me get my kids back.”

  “Assuming I even wanted to do that, what could I do?”

  “Convince this Wade guy it’s for the best that the kids come with me. Maybe you could turn him in for abusing the kids or something?”

  Sophie snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding! If I turn anybody in for abuse, it sure ain’t gonna be Wade Sullivan.” She set the heavier coffeepot on Darrin’s tabletop and took a tablet from her apron pocket. She leafed through until she found his ticket. She ripped it off, wishing it were his head. “Leave those kids alone. Wade’s a better father than you ever thought about being.”

  Darrin drained his coffee mug and set it down hard on the saucer. “You know, Sophie. I’d think you’d want to help me in any way you could.”

  She glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I think you know. I’d hate to have to drag out our little stories from the good old days back in Minneapolis.”

  Sophie’s heart lurched to a stop before it started pounding double-time. “You don’t scare me, Darrin Parnell.”

  Keeping his eyes locked unnervingly on hers, he dug into his wallet, fished out a dollar bill, and flung it onto the table. “Have a nice day, Sophe.” He slid out of the booth, purposely bumping into her. He swaggered away without looking back.

  She stood, trembling, and watched him walk out to the cashier’s desk in the entryway. She had lied again.

  Darrin Parnell scared her to death.

  Wade pulled out of the attorney’s parking lot and slipped his cell phone from his pocket. He punched in Pete’s number, tapping out a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel while the phone rang four times…five…. six. “Come on, Pete. Pick up…pick up.”

  Pete’s voice finally came on, but it was via the metallic echo of his answering machine. “Pete, it’s Wade. Give me a call the minute you get this. I’ve got big trouble with the kids.”

  He punched end and started to dial Margie’s work number. Pete’s wife was a nurse at the Coyote County Hospital. He hated to call her at work, but he didn’t know what else to do. He would have bet his life Darrin had already tracked Sophie down by now.

  Suddenly a terrifying thought struck him. What if Parnell had gone to the school and taken the kids out. He didn’t think the school would release them to a stranger, but if Beau or one of the girls told them Parnell was their father… He jammed his fingers on the phone’s keypad and dialed the school.

  “Coyote Elementary. This is Judy. How may I direct your call?”

  “Judy, this is Wade Sullivan. The kids are there, right?”

  “Your kids? …As far as I know.”

  Wade could tell he’d confused her. “Nobody came and got them?”

  “No…I don’t think so.” He heard her cover the receiver and repeat his question to someone in the office. Her voice came back strong on the line. “They’re all in school today, Wade.”

  “Good.” He heaved out the word on a sigh of relief. “If anyone should show up later asking for them, don’t let him talk to them.”

  “Is everything okay, Wade?”

  “I…I can’t really say right now, Judy. Just don’t let anybody take them out of school. I’ll be there to pick them up as soon as school’s out.”

  “Okay…I hope everything’s all right.”

  “Yeah. You and me both.”

  He tried Margie at the hospital again. The f
ront desk put him through. “Margie, it’s Wade. I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I’ve got an emergency here.”

  “What’s wrong, Wade? What’s happened? Is Pete okay?”

  “Oh no. I’m sorry to scare you. Pete’s fine. He’s just not answering the phone.”

  “What is it, then?”

  “It’s a long story, but…Starr’s ex is in town trying to get the kids back.”

  “Oh, Wade, no!”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. Could the kids stay at your place tonight? I have a lawyer looking into things for me,” he told her, “but it might take a couple days before I have anything legal on my side.”

  “Sure, Wade. Of course. I’m supposed to work the evening shift, but Pete said he’d be home by six. Is that soon enough, or do you want me to try to get off.”

  “No, no…don’t do that. But I might try to reach Pete and have him come home a little earlier. I have a feeling Parnell––the kids’ dad––is going to be on my doorstep again at four o’clock, and I want to be there when he shows up.”

  “Well, if you can’t get hold of Pete, just give me a call on my cell. I’ll carry it with me.”

  “Okay. Thanks a million, Margie.”

  “I’ll be praying. And the kids can stay as long as they need to. Amber will be thrilled for the company.”

  “Thanks, Margie.”

  As he drove home, he prayed he’d find a message waiting from Frank Locke. Was it too much to hope that the attorney would tell him it was all taken care of and he could send Darrin Parnell packing when he showed up to collect his kids?

  No. Wade knew better. Something––a familiar inkling too strong and reliable to brush off––told him this was just the beginning of what might well be the fight of his life.

  Chapter 17

  The Monte Carlo pulled into Wade’s driveway right on schedule at four o’clock. Wade was waiting on the front porch, his palms sweaty, but his resolve firm.

  Parnell got out and leaned over the roof of the car, glaring at Wade. “Well? Where are they?”