Silence fell on the line. He let it sit there.

  Many seconds later Jasmine said, “She fears—I’ve never—She has absolutely no grounds—What kind of mother would rather see her three-year-old in foster care than with a family member she knows and loves?”

  He’d asked the same question moments ago. Seconds ago, too. And yet, Jasmine had put herself under suspicion with that false confession.

  “One who is truly that afraid for her child’s safety?” His only goal was the truth.

  “One whose need to lash out and hurt someone is more powerful than her maternal instincts,” she shot right back. “She’ll be telling herself Bella will be just fine in foster care for a short time. That the state will watch out for her, which they will, of course. But to what emotional toll on a sensitive and bright little girl who will be scared to death away from the homes and loved ones she knows?” Jasmine’s voice rose. So did Greg’s gaze—to the top of the tallest peak. He’d been up there the previous spring. With his father. Had a picture of it on his phone.

  “This is just...wow. One part of me can believe it, but... No, I really can’t believe it. Not even from her.”

  She started to ask Greg questions, and he had to cut her off. Let Jasmine know that, at that point, his involvement was only informational, that there was nothing more he could tell her or do for her. Which raised a question she didn’t ask, but probably should have. “Why are you still talking to me, then?”

  He brooded over it the rest of the afternoon.

  * * *

  Jasmine didn’t want to leave The Lemonade Stand that day. For so many reasons. Some parts of her, in spite of all her healing and good emotional and mental health, suddenly craved the sanctity inside the Stand. The women there, they were all as one inside those walls. No one could get her there. Serve her any notices. Or worse.

  No one could touch Bella, either. At least not easily. They’d have to do a lot more than file a lame motion to breach the security of protection, figuratively and literally. Harper Davidson, the newly remarried head of security, and her staff of fifteen, lived life on alert.

  Lila would let her stay. All she’d have to do was let the managing director know that she didn’t feel safe going home.

  Something stopped her from going that far, though. The bungalows at the Stand were at nearly full capacity. The spaces that remained should be left for women afraid for their lives. Jasmine wasn’t. Heidi wasn’t going to do any physical damage to her. Or to Bella, either, for that matter.

  And Jasmine had to go home.

  Josh was getting his first supervised visit with Bella that night. Coming over to Jasmine’s for dinner. She’d made his favorite—chicken alfredo—the night before and it was waiting in the refrigerator for her to reheat.

  She’d tell him about Heidi’s new motion and they’d figure this out. Hopefully she’d have a chance to speak with him without the social worker present. Video calls were wonderful, but she needed some in-person time for this one, weak though that made her feel.

  She wasn’t weak. And Heidi was not going to win.

  * * *

  Bella was so happy to see her dad that night she peed her pants. Jumping up and down and laughing, she stopped suddenly and looked up at him. Josh knelt down to his daughter.

  “I just let go a little,” she said, scooting her tennis shoe–shod feet apart and looking at the small darkening trickle heading down her little pink leggings. And then she giggled and held her arms up for him to pick her up.

  Lifting her into the air above his head, both hands securely around her little body, Josh said, “Bet you can’t make me pee,” and flew her like an airplane into the house to change her pants.

  Marianne Lyons, the social worker, had gotten out of a car across the street as soon as Josh pulled into the driveway. She followed right behind him into Jasmine’s house. They’d yet to be introduced, but Josh had told her he’d met Marianne twice that week. While Josh didn’t like having her in his life, in his relationship with his daughter, he trusted the woman and felt like she’d truly do what was best for Bella. In the end, that was all that mattered to Josh.

  Dinner was actually quite nice. Marianne sat at the table and ate with them, but she was more like wallpaper then a dinner companion. Bella had been introduced to her, but she was so glad to be with her daddy, who entertained her the entire meal with silly games and antics to get her try new tastes and eat every one of her green beans, that the social worker could just as easily have not been there. Watching Marianne as Josh played on the floor with Bella in the new toddler-size playhouse he’d brought in after dinner, Jasmine was really impressed. Jasmine couldn’t figure out what in particular she did to fade, but whatever it was, she did it so well the entire evening passed almost naturally.

  Josh was allowed to put Bella to bed and read her a story on his own—Marianne just stood out in the hallway, watching through the crack in the open door. Then Jasmine, having just finished the dishes, mentioned that she’d like a moment to have a private word with her brother. The older woman offered to stay, to sit in the living room and listen for Bella, so the siblings could have some time together.

  “I’m hoping that after another visit or two we won’t need Marianne here,” Josh told her as he followed her out to the deck. “My lawyer is writing a motion to ask the court to allow you to be our chaperone.”

  Her stomach knotted so tightly she wished she hadn’t eaten any of the dinner. Still in the navy leggings and long blue plaid shirtdress she’d worn to work that day, she thought about loosening the thin belt around her waist.

  She told her brother about the motion Heidi had filed that day instead. One she’d yet to see. She jumped right in. Had to get it over with.

  “I have no idea how this works,” she told Josh as she sat in the same chair she’d been in the other night with Greg and, elbows on her knees, leaned in toward her brother. Part of his face was in shadows, but the motion-sensor lights let her see the immediate tightening of his lips. “Do I get served?” she asked.

  “She must not have filed a restraining order or you’d have already been served.”

  “She had no grounds to file one.” Jasmine had never so much as spoken harshly to Bella or been in any way abusive to Heidi, either. To the contrary, she’d loved the woman like a sister—continuing to try to get her to get help for herself when it became obvious that she’d crossed a dangerous line.

  “She’s become pretty well versed on California family and domestic violence law over the past couple of years,” Josh said. “She had to know that with no proof, no evidence, she’d lose a bid for the restraining order, so didn’t go that route. She doesn’t want to throw doubt on her credibility.”

  A sense of familiarity washed over her. Oddly calming. She and Josh had spent the past two years in huddles just like this one. Discussing Heidi. Deciphering. Josh understood his ex-wife better than anyone. And the way to beat her disease was to know what she was thinking and somehow expose that to those who were working on her behalf.

  “I just have no idea if that’s a good thing for us, or not,” Josh was saying. “Is she rational enough that she knows she can’t go that far? Or is she so far gone she’s being almost diabolical in her approach to this? Calculating every single aspect of some thoroughly developed plan...”

  Heidi was smart. Sometimes too smart for her own good.

  Fear stabbed Jasmine, swift and cruel, heightened by her own false confession. “She’s afraid that I have abusive tendencies... My God, Josh, what do I do to prove that there’s no basis in that? How do you prove that someone’s fear is ungrounded?” She stopped when she heard her voice getting louder. And heard the high note of panic, too. Josh didn’t need to deal with her on top of everything else.

  This was her time to be strong for him.

  But...

  “My job... I could lose everything. There’s no way I’d have clearance to work at the Stand if I can’t even qualify for custody of my own niece.”

  She’d grown up a victim. Many victims became abusers. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t even profiling. It was just fact. Could Heidi use that against her? Would it be enough to lay doubt?

  Was that what this was about? Hurting Jasmine?

  “I’ll call my lawyer in the morning,” Greg said. “If the motion’s been filed, he’ll be able to see it. And tell us what to expect. What the next step will be. But, for now, we can ask Marianne.” He stood.

  “Wait,” Jasmine told him. “Are you sure we should bring her into it? I mean, what if the motion gets thrown out? We don’t want to alert Child Services... It could lay doubts and then maybe they won’t let me supervise your visits.”

  She wasn’t sure how that worked, really. The court would have to trust her not to side with her brother and leave him alone with Bella, right? Did they do that?

  “Let me talk to Sara at the Stand,” she said, speaking aloud what she’d been thinking on and off all evening. If she’d had her head about her, she’d have asked Sara that afternoon before she left work. As it was, she’d been so determined to not give in to fear that she’d just picked up Bella as though it was any normal day and dared to go home. “She’s not a lawyer, but she works closely with attorneys in domestic violence cases, testifies in court. She’ll keep things confidential and at least give us a clue what to expect, what to do, even it’s just to say to talk to our own legal team.” If nothing else, Sara would help Jasmine get control of her fear enough to be able to help, not hinder, the situation.

  “There’s a good possibility the motion will just be thrown out,” Josh said, taking a seat and meeting her gaze. The worry lines on his forehead gave her a physical ache. “She completed her batterer’s treatment program, but as you said before, the law generally doesn’t revisit custody for a proven abuser for five years. It’s only been two. Which means Heidi won’t get Bella, regardless. Bella would just go in the system. And the courts always try to find a suitable family member for placement first.”

  Which would be Jasmine herself. Unless it wasn’t.

  Logically she knew that Heidi was really reaching this time. That she couldn’t possibly win. “There’s no evidence at all,” she reminded herself. And him. “Other than the time you stopped her from shaking Bella, Bella’s never known violence of any kind. That baby has never even had a bruise on her little body that I know of...”

  “Just the time she fell backward when she was first sitting on her own and hit her head.”

  He’d called the doctor immediately, Jasmine remembered. And then called her. She’d driven to Santa Barbara, fearing concussion or worse, only to find barely a little bump on the back of the baby’s head. Heidi, who’d still been in the picture then, had been out shopping, and she’d come rushing home, too. And then teased Josh for being overreactive. Still, for the next two months, Josh had followed the baby around with pillows, putting them all around her any time she was sitting on the floor.

  “Heidi’s hurting herself with this motion more than anything,” Jasmine said now, pulling herself out of the spiral of fear and back into reality. “She’s showing herself for the mean-spirited person she is, which can only help your situation.” Back on top. Being the helper rather than the helpee.

  “And the fact that Detective Johnson called me about it right away... He’s the one investigating her claim against you, and he’s on our side, Josh. We’ve got this.”

  Josh nodded, his expression easing. “You’re right,” he said, and then grinned. “She was so happy to see me she peed her pants,” he said. “God, I love that kid. It’s... She’s... Having her...it’s a feeling I never could have imagined,” he said. “I wake up in the morning and know she’s alive and healthy, and...it’s just...” He shook his head. “It’s the best, Jas. You need this, too. You deserve this kind of inner happiness and peace. It’s like a built-in joy that doesn’t go away.”

  “I love her, too, Josh,” she told her brother. “She brings magic to my life every single day.”

  They’d been through this multiple times, in various versions. Josh wanted her to fall in love and have babies of her own.

  She’d tried to help him understand that she’d had her three strikes and she was out. By her own choice.

  That one thing she’d learned about herself was that she truly was one of those people who was happier alone.

  And yet, as she passed Bella’s room on her way to bed that night, she stood there a long time, thinking about what Josh had said.

  She was alone by her own choice. Because she couldn’t make good choices. Just where relationships were concerned, she reminded herself, taking soft, quiet steps as she moved into the carpeted nursery and stood by Bella’s bed.

  Only one of Bella’s chubby cheeks was exposed as the toddler lay curled in the fetal position, her favorite blanket and little crocheted ballerina doll cuddled up with her. Calming as she watched her little niece’s chest move up and down with reassuringly repetitive breaths, Jasmine reminded herself that she was a survivor.

  Blowing a small kiss near Bella’s ear, she let herself out as stealthily as she’d gone in. Brushed her teeth. Got in her nightgown and slid under her own covers, reaching over to triple-check the baby monitor that would alert her if Bella made a sound.

  She closed her eyes and found herself engulfed immediately in another kind of darkness. The kind that hit victims when they least expected it. The kind that you could push away during the day, when others were around, when you were engaged in other endeavors, but that awaited to attack you, from the inside out, when you let your guard down.

  She wasn’t normal. Hadn’t grown up in a healthy, happy home. She’d pushed her brother so hard once he’d had to have stitches. She’d been mad that he was putting himself in danger and she’d pushed too hard.

  No. Her rational mind told her. She knew her psyche was playing with her. Told it to stop. And still, as she drifted off to sleep, she was reminded that Heidi knew about her past. Heidi knew she was her father’s daughter. And that it was possible that somewhere deep inside Jasmine some of her father’s same vile temper could be lying dormant.

  Chapter 7

  Greg spent the weekend with his parents in Las Vegas. They’d just moved from Boston to Seattle, and all three of them were eager for some rest and relaxation, Johnson family style. None of them were good at just sitting around. They always had to be going and doing, and Vegas had long been a family favorite getaway, even before he’d been twenty-one. They’d done the shows. The food. The racetrack—as in driving race cars around a real track. And at night, he’d lie in luxury in his room in the suite they’d always reserved, watch movies and order whatever he wanted from room service while his folks spent a few hours in the casino. They never stayed out late—had always returned in time to wish him good-night...

  More recently, Greg was the one who spent more time gambling. And he didn’t always make it back upstairs in time to tell them good-night. He didn’t share a suite with them anymore, either.

  But the weekend away was good. Just what he’d needed, he told himself as he landed in LA Sunday night, retrieved his car from the garage and drove up to his home in Santa Barbara. He’d gone hours without thinking about Jasmine Taylor and was ready to carry on with the case from a more distanced standpoint.

  Heidi Taylor had grown up a victim. She’d married a victim. Become an abuser. And was now a victim again. That theory was completely believable. He’d done enough work with the High-Risk Team, both as a prosecutor and an investigator, to be well versed on domestic violence profiles. The disease, what it could do to the psyches of all involved, was insidious.

  But it didn’t have to be fatal. Or lifelong. Heidi had gone through treatment. She knew herself, the laws, the signs of relapse, the dangers. If she thought Jasmine Taylor was a danger to her daughter, Greg needed to talk to her about that. He had to know what she was saying to others. What she believed. And why.

  It was the only way to prepare William Brubaker, the prosecutor on whose case he was now working, for trial.

  He had a couple of other cases on his desk as well. Interviews to do. A couple of visits to make. One a simple burglary count, and the other a murder case. He spent most of Sunday night studying every single page of notes again, looking for anything that would give him an edge to use when he went the next day to re-interview witnesses.

  It was the kind of work he was good at. The kind of work he was comfortable doing.

  And by lunchtime on Monday, he had two new witnesses willing to testify on other cases. He hadn’t forced them to do so, or coerced them, but a previous testimony from a young girl had jumped out at him the night before. That account had led him to a group of children who led him to a couple of women who were willing to talk to the prosecutor. Greg had just happened to find their vulnerabilities.

  Usually when there was the will, there was a way, and one thing Greg had in abundance, when it came to seeing justice done, was the will to make it happen.

  In a dark suit and tie, with a somewhat wrinkled white shirt, he was feeling pretty good about himself as he headed back to his office for an interview with Heidi Taylor. He’d called the woman earlier that morning, to set up the early-afternoon meet. And was eager to get to it.

  If the day’s luck continued, he could get a mini climb in that afternoon and still be home with a beer in hand by sunset.

  A couple of prosecutors at the office, fellow lawyer buddies, had tickets to a game in LA that night. They’d invited him to join them, and he was thinking about maybe doing that. Instead of the climb and the beer. Either way, the evening was going to be good.

  Well deserved.

  That afternoon, he waited while Heidi took a seat at the table in a conference room down the hall from his office and turned on the recording device before closing the door and seating himself across from her.