Page 7 of Proof

Carter was in eighth grade now. Since he was six, he’d practiced hard to develop his baseball skills with his dad. Chris had once been a professional baseball player and was an active participant in Carter’s growing interest in the game. Chris trained Carter at home and on the field, where he coached Carter’s team. A winning team, at that. The previous summer, Carter’s Little League team went all the way to the finals. Most of the kids were in eighth grade now and were no longer eligible for Little League, so Chris had helped the school form a softball team for the students. He was determined to make sure this team was a winner, as well.

No, Lucinda was not going to break up the team, at home or on the field. Chris took a few deep breaths before he went into his meeting. Things had been going along smoothly with his job, his son, and his girlfriend. And now the monkey wrench known as Lucinda was thrown into the mix. This was going to get ugly. He picked up his phone and called his lawyer. “Houston, we have a problem.” Chris always laughed at that opening line, because his lawyer’s name was actually Houston.

“What’s up, man?” Evan Houston laughed.

“Lucinda is moving to Chicago.”

“When? Why?” Evan asked, rapid-fire.

“Six months, maybe. Dr. Tooth is buying into a practice out there.”

“Have they seen his teeth?” Houston mocked.

Chris laughed. “Apparently not.” He paused. “We are going to have to renegotiate the custody agreement. As in, I want full custody.”

“I can understand that,” Houston replied. “You know it’s going to be a battle.”

“Of course, it will be. We’re dealing with Lucinda,” Chris agreed.

“But you could make a good case for yourself. Bruce is not Carter’s father, and not at all involved in Carter’s activities. Correct?” Houston noted.

“True. He’s basically invisible. I don’t think he’s been to more than one of Carter’s games,” Chris responded.

“Good. Start keeping track of his involvement—or lack thereof—but don’t let on you’re keeping score. You don’t want Lucinda pulling a stunt and having Bruce suddenly become interested in Carter’s life.”

“Good point. I won’t even ask if Bruce will be attending any of Carter’s games, or his science project exhibit.”

“Great. Make sure you keep notes on how often Bruce helps with his homework, too.”

“That I can say with confidence is a big never,” Chris replied. “I have a meeting in five minutes. We’ll recon later. Thanks, man. I appreciate the suggestion and the advice.”

“Any time. Always happy to help the U.S. Marshal service,” Houston said before he ended the call.

Chris had met Evan during his first case in Charlotte. Chris’s area of responsibility was missing children and human trafficking. Evan Houston practiced family law. A child had been abducted from his backyard by one of his relatives. Chris was immediately called into the investigation. Two days later, the child was fortunately found unharmed, and his uncle was arrested, charged, found guilty of child endangerment, and sentenced to five years in prison. The mother was terrified that she and her son would be in constant danger from her estranged husband’s family. The family wanted her boy, and she was sure they would also want revenge. She sought Evan’s help to represent her in an application for relocation, and Chris helped facilitate the request. Both men were fathers. Both men had boys the same age. There was an immediate kinship between them, as they imagined what it would be like having one of their own go missing. From that day forward, the two men were tight friends.

When Chris told Evan about Lucinda’s indiscretions, Evan offered to represent Chris in his divorce, pro bono. Free of charge. Evan, too, had suffered a betrayal and knew exactly what was to come for his friend: Aggravation. Lack of cooperation. Empty threats. Blame. And a whole lot of B.S.

Chris gathered his tablet, a pad, pen, and his cell phone and strode down the hallway to the conference room. He was breathing a little easier now, thanks to Evan.

Chris’s appearance could be intimidating to some. He was just over six feet tall with a well-toned body. His gait was confident. His long black eyelashes surrounded deep blue eyes that demanded one’s attention. One wouldn’t say his eyes were steely, or cold either. But they had the ability to pierce the veil of anyone who attempted to lie. It was one of his best weapons. Then there was his smile. Warm. Inviting, if he chose. He had black wavy hair with a dash of gray at the temples that gave him the appearance of a man who packed a lot of experience for someone about to turn forty.

He’d first met Luna Bodhi Bodman a few years prior during a search party for a little girl. Luna wasn’t the least bit daunted by his handsome looks or air of authority. He had been struck by her confidence and self-assuredness. She was quite different from anyone he had ever met, and it took a little time for him to become smitten with the quirky and eccentric free spirit. Luna had very few filters. Not that she was unkind, but if something was on her mind, or in her gut, she felt compelled to say it.

The two developed a strong friendship while they collaborated on other cases involving missing kids. He appreciated her ability to “read” people and advocate for “doing the right thing.” After several assignments, Luna left her job with social services and opened a café in the Stillwell Center outside of Asheville. It was a two-hour drive away, but Gaines wanted to maintain the relationship. Perhaps even take it a step further.

The grand opening of the art center had given him the perfect opportunity to show his face, and perhaps kiss hers before the night was over, but he’d almost missed the event. He had remembered sunflowers were her favorite and combed Charlotte until he found a florist who had them. He was running late and came close to breaking every traffic law between Charlotte and Asheville. Not only was his car racing, but so was his heart.

He had handed her the flowers and profusely apologized for his tardiness, but the look in her eyes and the expression on her face made it all worthwhile. He let out the biggest exhale, realizing he might have been holding his breath the entire length of the interstate.

His recollection of that night was broken by voices coming from the conference room. There were a half dozen people gathered around the long table.

Chris’s boss, Frank, was sitting at the head of the table and began to speak. “People, I have some news. There are several positions opening up in the Witness Security Program. As some of you may know, the number of people in the program has grown considerably, thanks to prosecutors increasing the number of deals they cut. Unfortunately, our staffing hasn’t grown at the same rate, but we finally got more funding for more jobs. For those of you who wish to transfer, you have my utmost respect and support.”

Questions were flying across the table. “Where?” “When?” “What’s the pay scale?”

“Simmer down. I have the job description and details printed out.” Frank passed several sheets of paper to everyone seated. “The only downside, if there is one, is that most of the positions require relocation. It’s all outlined in front of you.”

Chris’s eyes darted to the word Chicago. If Lucinda moved to Chicago, he could apply for that position, but he didn’t want to move. He knew Carter wouldn’t want to move, either. He had his friends, activities, and school here in Charlotte. And baseball. Chicago was no place for baseball. The Cubs winning the World Series was a fluke. It would be too much of an adjustment for a kid Carter’s age. He was on the verge of puberty. Moving would be much worse than breaking out in pimples, or trying to figure out what the rest of his body was doing.

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