“Josh, meet my partner.” Jim presented Mike with a flourish. “Mike Scanlon, just back from Afghanistan. You’re looking at a real live combat surgeon.”
“Wow!” Josh’s smile broadened, and he tugged off his reading glasses. “What an honor to meet you. Jim told me so much about you.” His expression sobered. “Sorry to hear about the loss of your wife, too.”
Mike felt his cheeks burn. “Thanks, good to meet you.”
Jim picked up a boot. “We’re putting Mike to work, helping get the word out about our boot. This is what I was telling you about, at the wedding. Fully customizable, and they can get it in Cheltenham High colors.”
“You’re
shameless.
” Josh’s eyes twinkled, amused.
“Of course I am!” Jim burst into laughter. “You know why? I believe in this product. You should, too. Kids never put up a fight about wearing it, and your practice gets a percentage.”
“How much?”
“Five.”
“Excuse me, did you say ten?” Josh smiled slyly, and Jim laughed.
“Please. What are you getting from HomeHealth? They send you a fruitcake for Christmas?”
“Ha! You got that right.” Josh checked his watch. “I’ll give you a call. I gotta meet with some reps.” He turned to Mike. “Nice meeting you, and stay away from this character. He’ll corrupt you.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Mike said, and they all laughed. Josh and his colleagues moved on, and Jim turned to Mike with a grin.
“You’re a natural! You did great! See how easy it is?”
“It’s the percentage that does it.”
“Of course. Rather, that’s part of it, but the boot still delivers.” Jim looked away, distracted as a trio of doctors came down the row. Carly met them, bouncing over with brochures, and Jim said under his breath, “Give Carly a second. They like her.”
“Is she our secret weapon?”
Jim winked. “My momma didn’t raise no dummy.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little cheesy?”
“Why? She majored in physical therapy at Penn State and has the best ass in sports medicine. Watch me do my thing.” Jim flagged down the threesome. “Dr. Sam Bertold, is that you? Up this early?”
“Very funny.” Sam rolled his eyes, an intense brown behind thickish wire-rims. He was a chubby man in his late forties, and his dark suit strained at the middle button. “Show some respect, Haggerty. I’m the midmorning keynote speaker.”
“Working your way up to lunchtime keynote?”
“Ha!” Sam laughed. “I’ll let you know when I hit dinner.”
“Playing for varsity, then!” Jim laughed, and so did Sam and his colleagues, grouping around and blocking Mike, who noticed a well-dressed woman at the periphery, picking up the boot and trying to fasten the Velcro.
“May I help you with that?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks.” The woman looked up with a smile. She had curly brown hair and colorful reading glasses on a beaded lorgnette. “My son is thirteen and runs track, but he broke his ankle on the ice in our driveway. Our podiatrist says he can’t run for four more weeks, but then he won’t be able to go to the regionals in winter track, because he missed too many practices.”
“That’s too bad.”
The woman cocked her head. “Can you can settle a family feud? My husband says he can run in two weeks, not four. He’s an orthopedist, too, but he specializes in tennis elbow.”
“What do you think?”
“I’m just the mom, but I think we should wait.”
“The mom matters.” Mike was thinking about Chloe and Sara.
“So what do you think, about my son? Two weeks or four?”
“Of course, I haven’t examined your son, but I’m with his podiatrist. You can’t hurry the healing process, not at that age.” Mike slipped into his old role like a comfy pair of jeans. “The last thing you want is a thirteen-year-old running before he’s not healed. If he damages a growth plate, he could end up with one leg shorter than the other.”
“Oh no.” Her eyes flared in alarm. “Can that really happen?”
“Yes. It must hurt him, too.”
“He says it doesn’t.”
“He’s downplaying it. They all do.”
“I knew it!”
Jim looked over with a caffeinated smile. His friend Sam Bertold was taking a cell phone call, leaving his friends to stand around, waiting. Jim said to the woman, “Excuse me, if your son is a runner, we also make custom orthotics that can be used with or without our boot, and placed in any shoes or sneakers. Running is a repetitive-motion sport that requires a rigid orthotic. Soccer, tennis, basketball, or gymnastics require a more flexible orthotic device, because they’re start-stop, complex motion, or cutting sports.”
The woman frowned. “That isn’t what we were talking about.”
“Oh, I see.” Jim blinked. “How can I help you then? Where is your practice?”
“I’m not a doctor, my husband is. I know what orthotics are, and my son doesn’t need them.”
Jim dialed his smile down. “Well, thank you very much for stopping by.”
“You’re welcome.” The woman eyed Mike, knowingly. “I gather I should be going. Thanks again.”
“Bye now.” Mike smiled, and Jim watched the woman walk away, then turned to Mike.
“Why did you spend so much time with her? She’s not buying anything, she’s not even a doc.”
“No one was waiting, and she asked me a question, so I answered it.”
“Mike, these aren’t patients, they’re customers. Don’t be an altar boy. Push the boot.” Jim looked away as Sam Berthold hung up. “Sam, meet my partner, back from two tours in Afghanistan. This is Mike Scanlon.”
“That name sounds familiar.” Sam frowned. “Aren’t you the guy that had a fight? With a news photographer?”
Jim scoffed. “No, that’s not him. It must’ve been a different guy.”
Mike tried to shrug it off. “It was me, but it wasn’t a fight. It might look that way on the news, but that wasn’t the way it happened. The editing made it look like I hit the guy, but I—”
“I didn’t see it on the news, I read it in the newspaper.” Sam’s gaze shifted from Mike to Jim. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”
“Totally.” Jim waved his hand. “As we were saying, this boot is a real innovation for adolescent sports medicine, and the customization colors make it fun to wear instead of a chore.”
Sam slipped the brochure into his pocket. “Good to know, but I better be moving on.”
“Call me.”
“Will do,” Sam said over his shoulder, followed by his colleagues, and when they were out of earshot, Jim turned to Mike, incredulous.
“What the hell was that about? Is that what you were arrested for?”
“No, something else. But I didn’t do it.”
Jim pursed his lips. “You were arrested for assault, and you also hit a photographer?”
“No, that’s what I’m saying, I didn’t do it. I was just at the police station, in connection with Sara’s murder.”
“You hit somebody in front of the police station? While you’re on bail for another assault?” Jim looked at him like he was nuts. “When did this happen? The second time, I mean.”
“Yesterday.”
“Mike.” Jim lowered his voice. “We can’t have that if you’re gonna sell this thing, and it won’t go over with Lyon, at all. He always says, business is all about reputation.”
“I know, it’ll blow over.”
“Okay, but today is a problem.” Jim glanced around. “What if someone else recognizes you? The TV news will probably run it again, they always massage that crap. Mike, sorry, but I think it’s better if you go.”
“Really?”
“Just until this cools down. I don’t need to answer to Lyon.” Jim met his eyes, pained. “Sorry buddy, you understand. It’s only for now.”
“Sure,” Mike said, wishing he could take another pill.
Later, Mike drove home through the freezing rain, lost in thought. He hated the prospect of selling boots at trade shows, if he could practice again. Maybe if he moved to Connecticut, he could put his old life behind him and start a second chapter. Bob and Danielle could visit him, and maybe it was time for him to go his own way with Emily. Still, on the other hand, it would hurt Emily to live far from Danielle and Bob. They were her only family, and vice versa. Mike wasn’t ready to make a decision yet, and there was no reason to rush into anything.
He pulled into the driveway and cut the ignition. He got out of the car and hustled through the rain to the house, but as soon as he opened the front door, he knew something was wrong. A muffled weeping came from the kitchen, and it sounded like Danielle. He closed the door behind him and hurried to the threshold. Bob was standing in the kitchen across from Danielle, as if they’d been fighting.
Mike froze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Oh, my.” Danielle grabbed a paper towel and dabbed her eyes. “You’re home early.”
“I can go upstairs. I didn’t mean to intrude. Where’s Emily? Is she asleep?”
Bob gestured to Danielle, his manner chilly. “Honey, go check on the baby. Make that call, too.”
“Okay.” Danielle hurried past Mike, averting her eyes. “Excuse me.”
“Sure.” Mike stepped aside to let her pass, confused. “I can check on Emily. What’s going on, what call?”
“I have some papers for you.” Bob went to his messenger bag on the chair, opened it, and slid out a stack of legal pleadings, bound with light blue binders.
Mike’s heart sank. “Pat MacFarland is suing me, huh?”
“No. We’re asking you to leave.” Bob handed him the thick stack of papers. “And we’re keeping Emily.”
Chapter Fifty-nine
“I don’t understand.” Mike took the papers, stunned.
“The papers are the judge’s order that approves our custody agreement.”
“What custody agreement?” Mike asked, reeling.
“You remember.” Bob’s gaze remained even, his tone calm and professional. “The one you signed before you went away.”
Mike’s mouth dropped open. “That agreement was for while I was deployed.”
“No.” Bob shook his head, curtly. “The agreement gives us custody of Emily for as long as necessary. It doesn’t terminate when your deployment does.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Mike shot back, bewildered and angry. “Emily is
my daughter
.”
“Legally, we have custody of her.”
“What? This can’t be legal.”
“It is completely.”
“It
can’t
be!”
“Get a lawyer. It is.”
“But you’re my lawyer!” Mike threw the papers on the table. “Are you
kidding
me? You
know damn well
what we meant!”
“Lower your voice.” Bob put up a hand. “I will discuss this with you only if you stay calm. Danielle called the police. They were expecting us later but the station is only five blocks away. Leave or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”
“
What?
” Mike exploded. “I live here! My daughter lives here!”
“You live here only as long as you have our permission. Now, we want you to leave. Your knapsack is packed and in the closet.” Bob pointed outside the kitchen. “Take it and go, please.”
“I’m not going anywhere without Emily.” Mike edged backwards, incredulous.
“Yes, you are.” Bob’s blue eyes hardened like ice. “You can’t give her a good home. You can’t even stay awake long enough to babysit. She could’ve been killed.”
“Go to hell!” Mike turned away, bolted for the staircase, and bounded upstairs.
“Mike!” Bob hurried after him. “The police are on their way. You’re only making it worse for yourself.”
“Emily, Emily!” Mike reached the second floor, rushed to Emily’s bedroom, and twisted the doorknob, but it was locked. “Danielle, let me in!”
“Mike, get out!” Bob stalked down the hall toward him. “Leave. If you don’t go now, you’ll be arrested.”
“Emily!” Mike yelled, and Emily started crying inside the bedroom, which broke his heart. “Emily, don’t cry! It’s Daddy! I love you!”
Emily wailed harder.
“Danielle, open this door!” Mike wrenched on the doorknob, and the door rattled noisily.
Danielle yelled, “Mike, stop! You’re upsetting her. Stop it!”
“I’m her father, I love her!” Mike pounded on the door. “Danielle, let me in! She’s my child! She belongs to me!”
“Mike!” Bob gripped Mike’s shoulder and pulled him back, sending pain like an electric shock zinging up and down his arm. “Stop it, no!”
“Let me go!” Mike torqued his body out of Bob’s grasp.
“Mike, stop!” Bob grabbed for Mike, but Mike shoved him back.
“How dare you? She’s my daughter! You can’t take her from me!”
“No!” Bob staggered backwards, falling against the wall. Police sirens sounded nearby.
Danielle screamed, “Bob, Bob!”
“I’m not leaving without my daughter!” Mike yelled to Bob, who was getting up, rubbing his head. “She’s mine, not yours!”
Danielle yelled, “Mike, stop it! You’re scaring her! Is Bob okay?”
“Open this door!” Mike wrenched the doorknob back and forth, despite the pain. “Danielle, let me have Emily!”
“Mike, no please!” Danielle called back, sobbing. “Please, stop!”
“Danielle!” Mike couldn’t give up without a fight. Something told him if he left without Emily, he’d never get her back. The thought shook him to his very foundations. “Danielle, please!”
Bob got to his feet and went running down the stairs. Sirens blared closer, on the street. “Danielle, don’t open the door! Be right back!”
“Danielle, please!” Mike pounded the door again. “I’m begging you. Let me have her. I love her. She’s mine. I’ll take care of her, I promise. I’ll make it better, you’ll see. She’s all I have.”
“No! Go away!” Danielle shouted back, and there was a commotion downstairs as Bob ran out the door, hollering to the police.
“Danielle!” Mike wrenched the door. He was running out of time. “Danielle, please! This isn’t right it! She’s mine!”
“Give up, Mike! Go, you’re making her cry!”
“Dr. Scanlon!” came a shout from downstairs. “This is the police, Dr. Scanlon!”
“Emily, I love you!” Mike yelled one last time, as they came charging up the stairs.
Chapter Sixty
Mike drove away from the house, distraught. His heart thundered in his chest, and he was sweating. His stump and shoulders screamed in protest. He tried to catch his breath. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He didn’t know how Bob and Danielle could do such a thing. He hadn’t seen it coming.