Graham Mitchell sat at the desk in his study, his computer monitor’s screen
illuminating the dark room. He hated this file, entirely and totally, but he just couldn’t
bring himself to delete it. It was the Maris file. Raymond Maris. The name haunted him.
He scrolled down the notes he’s written on the computer. Many times he’d made
references to how unreliable the girl seemed. Her story had changed slightly every time
she told it. New facts were mentioned and others were forgotten. Her parents had even
made the mistake of talking about how their daughter had taken brief acting lessons two
years before. It was a procecutor’s nightmare, but he covered it up, and he did it well. He
had spent endless hours coaching her, telling her what to do and what not to do. And it
had worked. The judge had decided in their favor. That was all well and good, but they
were wrong. They had lied the whole time and he knew it. Raymond’s life was pretty
much ruined and he could have prevented it.
Hallie appeared in the doorway, wearing her light blue penguin pajamas and a
purple toothbrush in her mouth. She had her hair pulled back into two french braided
pigtails. She took the toothbrush out of her mouth and stepped into the room, turning the
light on.
“What are you doing in here, Daddy?” she asked, noticing that he was still
wearing what he’d worn to the office that morning. An empty brandy snifter sat beside
the keyboard. Graham ran a hand over his hair.
“I’m just reviewing an old case,” he said, sighing. Hallie walked around to the
other side of her father’s desk, standing behind him. She placed her hands on his
shoulders and began reading the text on the screen.
“Is it one that I know of?” she asked. He shook his head.
“Nah, I don’t think so. It was one of my first cases. You were very young.” He
was silent. “It was the first case I ever won.” Hallie leaned down, wrapping her arms
around her father’s neck.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asked. Hesitating for a moment, Graham decided to
tell her what was going on. Tomorrow was the anniversary of the sentencing. He told her
the more accurate reason why they had up and relocated. Ray had almost served his
entire sentence. There were ten yeats remaining in the minimal sentencing.
Eventually, he would be out and, no doubt, very pissed. Vindictive, even. Graham didn't want
to be anywhere near where he was once before. He didn't want Maris to be able
to find him.
As Graham finished explaining the situation to his daughter, Hallie released her
father’s neck and took a step back.
“What was that man’s name again?” She asked.
“Raymond Maris.”
“Did Mr. Maris ever serve in military?” Hallie asked.
“Vietnam, I think. Why?” he asked. Hallie walked around her father’s desk and
toward the door. “Hallie?”
“It’s nothing, Dad. Goodnight.” She walked out of the room and closed the door
behind her.
*** *** ***
“So, we’re going to do something tonight?” he asked. Hallie stretched out on the
couch, glaring at the chipped paint on her toenails.
“I don’t care. Whatever,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Stuff. I’m tired. I’m bored. I want you here and my parents out. I’m just
stressed out. Things are bothering me.”
“You really want me there?” he asked, smiling.
“Yeah. I really do.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he said and then she heard a click on the phone. He
had hung up. She giggled a little and then sat the black cordless phone on the coffee
table. Sliding off the couch, Hallie walked across the room and climbed the carpeted
stairs to her bedroom. Once inside, she grabbed her fingernail polish remover and a bottle
of red fingernail polish. Standing in front of the mirror on her closet door, she inspected
her appearance: white v-neck long sleeved shirt, worn and ratty yet comfortable khaki
shorts, and her hair was pulled up into a sloppy bun. Her oval rimmed glasses were
perched on her nose and she wore no jewelery. She didn’t care how she looked. She was
clean. She didn’t stink. It was okay.
Hallie walked out of her room and down the stairs, jumping over the back of the
couch and landed with her legs out in front of her. She grabbed the remote control and
changed the channel to MTV. Ugh. Christina Aguilera. Yippee. White-blonde hair and
midriff shirts. Always a popular favorite.
“Would it really pain them so much to play some silverchair? I mean, seriously,”
Hallie muttered. She opened the bottle of stinky remover and then grabbed a tissue from
the box on the end table behind her. Once she had taken off all of the polish on her left
foot’s toes, Hallie began on her right foot’s big toe right as Taylor rang the doorbell.
Walking a little funny so that she wouldn’t get the reeky stuff on her mother’s precious
carpet, Hallie reached the front door and pulled it open to reveal Taylor standing before
her, his sunglasses perched upon his nose and his keys in his hand. He smiled.
“Hey,” he said, his smile fading. “What is that smell?” he asked.
“Fingernail polish remover,” she said, stepping aside and letting him into the
house. He looked down at her toes and grinned.
“You had black fingernail polish on your toenails? That’s so . . . dark and goth-ish
and . . . I like that . . . a lot,” he said taking a step toward her.
“Don’t even tell me that you’re one of those people who has a foot fetish because
that just disturbs me,” Hallie said, stepping out of Taylor’s way and walking back over to
the couch to continue taking the chipped polish off of her nails. Taylor closed the door
behind him and followed her. She’d stretched out on the couch again. He put his hand
underneath her crossed ankles and gently lifted them. Sitting down, he dropped her feet
on to his lap.
“Give me that kleenex that you were using. I wanna do this right now,” he said.
Hallie looked at him strangely, but handed him the tissue anyway.
“Mind if I ask why?”
“I don’t know. I just have always wanted to do this for a girl. I also wanted to see
how good I’d be at it.” He looked down at her feet. “You have big feet.” Hallie laughed.
“Well, thanks.”
“It’s not really a bad thing. It makes you harder to knock over.” He smiled. Hallie
laughed and then looked back at the televison as Taylor began taking the rest of the
polish off of her toenails.
Graham whistled, walking down the hallway and shuffling through a few memos
that his secretary had given him Friday before he’d left work. He was determined not to
work this weekend. It was time for a few days off.
He stepped into the family room and first noticed the putrid smell. He looked up
from his papers at Hallie and Taylor and then laughed.
“Hey, Taylor. How are you doing?” he asked. The boy was holding his daughter’s
foot on his lap and slowly painting red polish onto her big toe. Taylor looked up and
smiled, somewhat embarrassed. Hallie just watched.
“Good, sir, thanks.” His cheeks were turning pink. Graham laughed.
“I think that it’s about time you started calling me Graham, Taylor.” A smile
spread across Taylor’s face.
“Thanks . . . Graham.” Graham laughed right as the phone rang. Graham walked
into the kitchen and picked the cordless phone up from its cradle and then put it against
his ear.
“Hello?”
“Graham, this is Tony Bradshaw. How are you doing?” the strong, confident
voice on the other end of the phone asked. Graham silently groaned. This would have
something to do with him working in one form or another, he was sure of it.
“Hi, Mr. Bradshaw, I’m fine. How are you?” he asked in his most polite voice.
“I’m good, thanks. Played a damn fine round of golf this morning. Beat my son in
law for the first time.” Tony laughed. “But I think that he let me beat him.” Graham
smiled. “But, anyway, I was just wondering if you would maybe be interested in making
a quick little trip to Houston for the evening? I have two tickets. You could take your
wife. You just have to go to one little dinner this evening and your flight back would be
at three Sunday afternoon. At the dinner, I pretty much just need a representative from
the firm and I think that you would be a nice one. You’re seasoned. Professional. I
thought that maybe you would like to be offered this. You could make some very
valueable connections, Graham.” Graham sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“I need to talk with Cate first, but as of right now, I’m saying yes.”
“Great. I understand. Just call me back on my cell phone whenever you’ve talked
to your wife about it.”
“What time would the flight there leave?” Graham asked, looking at the clock on
the wall. It read 2:30 pm.
“Five. From Tulsa International.”
“Okay. I’ll get back to you before three.”
“Thanks, Graham.”
“Bye.” Graham hung up the phone and groaned. Cate was going to be so mad. He
walked back into the family room to find Hallie laughed while Taylor was blowing on
her toes to try and dry the wet polish. “Do you know where your mom is, Hal?” he asked.
“She was out back working on putting in some more azaleas last time I saw her,”
Hallie said. Graham nodded and walked toward the back of the room where two French
doors led out to the back deck.
Outside, Graham found his wife elbow deep in potting soil. She was knelt over
the newly tilled ground, pushing soil over what she had just planted. She looked up as he
walked over the deck and then sat down on the steps that led down to the place where she
was.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said, smiling and then blowing a strand of hair from her
forehead. She noticed the look on his face and her smiled slowly melted into a serious
expression. “What’s going on?”
“Tony Bradshaw just called me. He wants me to fly to Houston for the night.”
Cate’s shoulders sagged a bit and she looked down, spearing the small gardening shovel
into the ground. “He wants you to come with me. I told him that at very least, I could go,
but I didn’t know if you would want to so I would have to talk to you first.” Cate stood up
and walked over to the garden hose, turned it on, and began rinsing the dirt from her
hands.
“I normally would go right ahead with this, Graham, but I really don’t like leaving
Hal alone so much. This is a new place. Yeah, she has made some friends, but I just don’t
feel comfortable leaving her here with people we don’t know that well and then us
leaving the state. We can’t be right there if something happens, you know what I mean?”
She put down the hose and then turned it off, sufficiently satisfied with the cleanliness of
her hands.
“I know, I know. I don’t like it either.” Graham looked over at his wife, torn
between what to do. Cate was standing her ground and he didn’t really feel as if he had
the option of saying no to Bradshaw. He was the big man and you don’t usually deny that
man much, no matter how nice he is. Their silent stare down was interrupted whenever
Hallie stuck her head out of the door and looked at her parents, her hand clamped over
the mouthpiece of the cordless phone.
“Julianne Potter is on the phone. She and her husband are going to Oklahoma
City for the night and they want me to come up there and stay with the kids all night. Can
I?” she asked. Cate looked at Graham, one solitary eyebrow arched.
“Ask your father. It’s fine with me.” Cate wiped her wet hands on the back of her
jean shorts and picked up a bag half full of soil, taking it to the small shed at the back of
the yard. Hallie looked down at her father.
“If you want to, you can,” Graham said. Hallie smiled.
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said, putting the phone back up to her ear. “Julianne? My
dad just told me that I could. When do you want me up there?” she asked. The rest of the
conversation was cut off as she shut the door behind her and went back into the house.
Graham watched Cate walk back toward him after putting away the gardening
tools. She glared at him as he stood up and walked toward her, meeting her in the middle
of the backyard.
“Hal is staying with the Potters tonight. Would you please come with me? I’ll
miss you if you don’t,” he said, smiling at her and trying to get her to do the same back to
him. She looked as if she was fighting back a grin.
“Okay, but Graham, this is the last time. No more, you understand?” she said, her
hands on her hips. He nodded and took his wife’s face in his hands and gently kissed her.
