that she wishes her mommy and daddy were still together under the same roof — which isn’t on the table because daddy likes to bang most of the halfwit strippers in Manhattan. So if anyone wants to point a finger and play the blame game that’s where the problem lies. And now the very same scumbag who caused the breakup of our family wants to take my daughter away so he can look more appealing on an election poster? Over my dead body.” Silver had reddened as she finished, and from the look on Ben’s face she realized she was losing her cool.
“So she has this disorder. Can’t argue that. What will her doctor say?”
“I don’t think she’s allowed to say anything, is she?”
“Kennedy is a minor and Eric is her father. I would say blocking the doctor’s testimony, even if successful, would raise more doubts than it would settle. Better to understand what damage could result from all facts being known.”
Silver considered Ben’s words. What would the doctor’s testimony be like? Was she willing to bet her kid on it?
“Okay, that’s something I’ll need to look into. I have a good relationship with the doc, but you never know. What else?”
“I think you should have meetings with the school so you understand their stance. I know you have your position, but it could be that they view the situation differently. We need to know before we go into battle who our assets are and who will be liabilities. I’m not saying that any of this has merit, but your ex is a wealthy man, and the firm he’s retained is one of the heavyweights in this realm of law. Reading between the lines of the complaint, they’ll try to paint you as a workaholic whose daughter is an annoying afterthought, and who’s demonstrably suffering due to your lack of attention. It’s also safe to assume they’ll have private detectives nosing around to dig up any dirt on your private life they can.”
“Ha! Best of luck with that. I know convents that see more action than I do.” Silver immediately regretted the glib response.
Ben studied her. “I’ll throw up as many obstacles as I can and buy as much time as possible. Nothing is going to happen quickly. But you need to treat this as a very real threat and start circling the wagons.”
“What about visitations? I want to cut him off at the knees.”
“Not advisable. Would make you look like you’re using your daughter as a pawn. That’s how they’ll spin it. We need to be the good guys here. You’ll just have to suck it up and try to be as civil as you can manage while I develop a strategy.”
“All right. What else do you need?”
He closed the file and sighed. “A retainer. This won’t be inexpensive to fight. While I hate to bother you with money, we’ll have some very real expenses. Our own experts, private investigators, filings, motions, time crafting a response…this could run six figures, Silver.” Ben’s voice had lost some of its usual deep timbre.
“Six figures! That’s insane. Are you serious? How am I supposed to come up with that kind of money?” Silver felt like she was drowning, the air heavy and stifling. Her limbs had gone numb, and she could feel her pulse hammering in her ears.
“Honestly, I don’t know. But I’m not going to lie to you. Maybe we can get away with less, but there’s no way of knowing. Eric has money. He’s going to use that as a weapon against you. Recognize that and learn to deal with it.” Ben paused. “I’ll need twenty-five thousand to start. I’ll try to make that last as long as possible, but it’s going to take a lot more to see this through, Silver. It stinks, I know, but the monster will need to be fed.”
They finished up the meeting quickly from that point. She was in a daze as she made her way to the elevators.
As she drifted her way along the busy street, Silver thought she was going to faint. Everything felt surrealistic as the enormity of the problem settled into place. Of course Eric would try to drown her in debt — that’s how he played. To win. She only had forty thousand dollars in savings, and everything was spoken for, between school, daycare, clothes, braces, food, utilities and property taxes — never mind that a decent cup of coffee cost six bucks. She had naively imagined that making six figures a year would solve most of her financial problems, but the truth was that after taxes took their bite and everything else was factored in, she was living month to month.
At least she didn’t have to make a massive house payment. Her third-floor, two-bedroom flat on the once newly gentrified East Side near Gramercy Park had been part of her divorce settlement. The building was an ancient five-story walkup over a collection of bohemian shops. The water pipes were antiquated, the electrical wiring was marginally better, but the building had been a find — she still wasn’t sure exactly how Eric had finagled the place, but he’d wound up owning the flat, and as part of Silver’s price for going quietly, she had gotten it. It had served her well; there was no chance of her being able to afford anything in the city these days.
A mortgage on the flat seemed the only option, although that was just delaying the inevitable problem — a mortgage would require the ability to make the payments, which would be close to impossible with her monthly burn. New York was one of the most expensive cities in the world, and just Kennedy’s school and daycare ate well over half her take-home pay.
A horn sounded as she stepped off the curb. She was jerked back to reality. A cab had almost taken her leg off. The driver made an obscene gesture and rolled his window down to begin his inevitable tirade — but thought better of it when he saw her expression.
She waved him off and stepped back onto the sidewalk, noting the time on her phone. Dammit. Late.
Her jaw clenched as she mulled over her few options. She was thin on cash and up to her neck with work related to the task force, but there was no way she was going to let him get away with this. If it was a fight he was after, he’d come to the right place. He’d underestimated her throughout their marriage and was now biting off way more than he could chew. She supposed his money made him feel all-powerful, but even the most foolhardy hunter knew it was a bad bet to come between a mama bear and her cub.
Eric had just made the worst mistake of his life. She would make it her mission to not only battle him on this and win, but would do everything in her power to ruin his aspirations for a political career. She would arrange for his true nature to be broadcast from the highest buildings, and before she was done with him he, would wish he’d never been born.
The mental image of him ruined, shivering next to a dumpster, homeless, mocked and ostracized by everyone, cheered her somewhat.
Silver began to feel better.
Positive thinking was working for her. Just like the doctor had counseled Kennedy.
Maybe the doc knew what she was talking about.
She visualized a dog chasing Eric as he fumbled with his few belongings, muttering incoherently, and smiled for the first time since meeting with Ben.
Eric would rue the day he had cooked up this scheme.
She’d make sure of it.
The killer watched as the low-slung Maybach exited the garage and swung into traffic. He had confirmed the identity of the man behind the wheel as his next target. One of the prospective victim’s quirks would make the killer’s job much easier — unlike so many of his peers, the victim seemed to enjoy the solitude of driving and didn’t have a driver waiting to take him to his home in Connecticut. That would prove fortuitous — he hated the idea of having to take out an innocent to accomplish his task. Collateral damage was messy and increased the risk.
He put his nine-year-old VW Jetta into gear and pulled out after the luxury car, tailing the Maybach from a hundred or more yards.
They moved in sync as the big German sedan cruised its way off the island and north towards Greenwich, where the victim had his main residence. The killer had spent several days following the man and knew that during the week he spent his nights at a high rise on the East Side, returning to Connecticut on weekends to stay with his lovely wife and two sons. New York would be easier logistically, but he hadn’t completely discounted the idea of taking him out en route.
The killer glanced at his Bulova wristwatch, calculating how long it would take to arrive at the man’s home. So far he didn’t see anything obvious by way of opportunities, but that was the nature of the surveillance — establishing his victim’s patterns, looking for chinks in armor.
He could have easily accomplished his task a dozen times over the two days he’d been watching him, but the point wasn’t to simply erase the target from the face of the earth. He had a specific method he intended to employ, and to pull it off would require exactly the right circumstances.
