on the lack of evidence or witnesses—and if no domestic violence reports had ever been filed for Tanner Malone, and there were no medical records of abuse and no problems reported by Tatum’s school, and if Tatum said she lied, they probably would send her home. And just keep an eye on things.
Which, as Sedona knew all too well, so often meant wait until the abuse happened again....
She could contact Talia. See if she could get testimony out of the older sister regarding previous abuse. But again, with no corroborating evidence, and considering Talia’s current situation and previous history with her brother, her testimony wouldn’t be all that credible. The court could go either way. Unless reports had been filed in the past.
“Even if I talk to Tanner, whether he lets you stay here or insists on taking you home, I’m going to have to report the abuse to the police, whether you want to do so or not.”
A caseworker would be assigned. Tatum would most likely still be sent home because, as the teenager said, she could just be a truculent child lashing out for having her boyfriend privileges removed.
There would almost surely have to be another abusive incident before anything more could be done.
“What’s your choice?” she asked Tatum, standing up in the dimly lit garden. “The police have to be notified that you’re safe, Tatum, one way or the other. Do you want me to call your brother or not?”
It felt cruel, to be putting such a choice to a child who’d turned to them for help. But it was the best she could do. Short of putting the girl in her car and running with her.
Standing, her chin low and shoulders sagging, Tatum gave Sedona Tanner Malone’s cell phone number.
* * *
“WHERE’S MY SISTER?” Tanner approached the woman with the thick blond hair sitting at the corner table in an upscale sandwich shop not far from the corner where Detective Morris had told him Tatum had exited the bus.
Sedona Campbell, she’d said her name was. And that she’d be wearing navy pants and a jacket with a cream-colored blouse.
“She’s fine,” the thirtyish woman said. “She’s with a couple of friends of mine,” she said. “Female friends.”
“Who are you?”
Reaching into her pocket the woman pulled out a business card and placed it on the table.
Sedona Campbell, Attorney at Law
He read the name of her firm, but didn’t take it in. His heart racing, Tanner stood there, trying to slow his mind, to calm the panic.
He was thirty-three, not twenty. He owned a home, a business.
And he was losing control of his baby sister. Cold sweats swept over him. Through him.
“What does she want?” If their mother thought she was going to ride back into their lives and sweep her baby away, she was wrong.
No matter how vulnerable a girl Tatum’s age might be to her mother’s false promises of newfound sobriety. Tanner, Talia and Thomas had heard them all too many times. But Tatum...she’d only been five when she’d last heard from Tammy.
“Have a seat, Mr. Malone.”
Because he was feeling a bit sick, Tanner did as she asked. He’d be fine. He knew the signs of post-stress-induced anxiety. And knew how to overcome them, as well.
The law was on his side. He had to remember that.
“Tell me how much she wants.”
The woman’s creamy white brow furrowed. Who had creamy white skin in California? “I’m sorry?”
“You’re a family lawyer,” he explained slowly. If this lawyer wanted to play games she’d soon find she’d come to the wrong man. He knew all his mother’s tricks. Eventually, he’d grown immune to every one of them.
“That’s right.”
“The only times my family has ever needed a lawyer have been when our mother deigns to make an appearance in our lives.” That was true even before she’d left them for good and given him custody. He’d had to quit school to protect the kids from her—and the court system. Not that anyone needed to know... “Tell me, what’s Tammy said or done to get to Tatum and how much does she want?”
“I don’t know your mother. Or anyone named Tammy.”
Leaning back in his chair Tanner feigned a nonchalance he didn’t feel. He’d learned early on that if he showed a woman weakness she’d use it to wipe her feet. Spreading his hands and then steepling his fingers, he said, “So whatever she’s calling herself this time, how much does she think it’s going to cost her to provide the life my sister needs?”
Because Tammy would never admit the money was for herself. To feed her habits. No, she’d blink those big blue eyes and swear that it was for her children.
She’d tried a few times over the past ten years to extort money from them—from him. Playing on his love for his siblings. But it had been a while since he’d heard from her. Three years. He’d looked it up as soon as Morris had left.The longest she’d ever gone.
Sedona Campbell flicked a strand of really long hair behind her shoulder. A move that accentuated her femininity. And worried him. “Let me get this clear,” she said. “You think someone has your sister?”
It was like a game of chess. He not only had to plan his moves a minimum of three in advance, he had to assess his opponent, to predict what she was thinking and, more important, to ascertain her next moves before making his own.
“Tatum’s a good girl,” he said. “A straight-A student who loves to read. She has an appreciation for antiques and nurtures hurt animals anytime she can sneak one in. She also has no problem speaking her mind. She is not the type of person who would just up and leave on her own.”
“Especially since you’ve made her a virtual prisoner out there on that vineyard of yours.”
“That’s what Tammy told you?”
Ms. Campbell looked at the table. Seeing a chessboard of her own? After a couple of seconds, she glanced back at him. “Let’s get one thing clear, sir. I’ve never met your mother, or anyone else who knows your sister. I am here on Tatum’s behalf. Period.”
A vise descended upon his chest. And he was sweating again. From the inside out. “You want me to believe that my little sister hired a lawyer?”
“Technically she can’t do that without your signature.”
Right. Okay. But... “She sought one out, though?”
“She came to us for help.”
His feet landed flat with a thud as he sat forward and put his arms on the table. “Who is us? Why does Tatum need a lawyer? Where is she?”
He was back to Del Harcourt. This was about that punk kid like he’d originally thought.
But he had the senior Harcourt in his
