Chapter 7: What the Court Needed to Hear
The paternity filing came on Monday, as promised.
Susan called me before I'd finished my first cup of coffee.
"It's formal now," she said.
"He's requesting a DNA test and a preliminary hearing to establish parental rights.
His attorney has framed it as a father seeking a relationship with his child.
Standard language."
"What do we do?"
"We respond.
And we bring everything." I heard papers moving on her end.
"I've been doing some additional research since Friday.
The voice recordings your daughter made — the dates on those messages place the beginning of their relationship in October of the year she was seventeen.
That's relevant."
"How relevant?"
"Relevant enough that I've already spoken with a colleague in the district attorney's office.
Informally.
She's aware of the situation."
I set my coffee cup down.
"You think there could be charges."
"I think that depends on what Carter Welles decides to do next.
If he pushes hard for parental rights, he opens the door to scrutiny he may not want." A pause.
"His attorney may not have told him everything that's in that box."
"Or he thinks I won't use it."
"That would be a significant miscalculation."
The preliminary hearing was set for three weeks out.
In the meantime, Susan filed a motion to delay the DNA test pending a full review of the circumstances of the child's conception and birth.
She attached a summary of the recorded evidence.
She did not attach the recordings themselves.
Not yet.
Richard Hale called her office twice that week.
She told me about the second call.
"He wants to discuss a private settlement," she said.
"No court involvement.
Carter would sign away parental rights permanently in exchange for your agreement not to pursue any further legal action related to the recordings."
I was quiet for a moment.
"He wants me to let him walk away clean."
"Yes."
"After ten years of silence.
After threatening my daughter.
After having someone watch my house."
"That is what's being offered."
"What happens to my grandson if I say yes?
He grows up never knowing.
And Carter Welles walks away with his inheritance and his reputation."
Susan didn't answer right away.
That was its own answer.
"What do you want?" she asked.
I thought about the letter on the kitchen table.
My daughter's handwriting, small and tight, fitting everything onto two pages because she hadn't known how much time she had.
*If he ever comes near my baby, it will matter.
Use it.*
"I want him to answer for what he did to her," I said.
"In a room where it's on record."
"Then we go to the hearing."
"Yes."
Three days before the hearing, Diane called me.
"There's something else," she said.
"Something I didn't tell you at the cemetery because I wasn't sure it was relevant.
I think it is now."
"Tell me."
"Your daughter wasn't the only one." Her voice was careful.
"There was another girl.
Before her.
She was also young.
She also disappeared quietly.
I don't know her name, but I know she existed because your daughter mentioned her once.
She said Carter had told her about it himself, like it was something to be proud of."
The kitchen was very still.
"He told my daughter about a previous girl."
"He said the other one had tried to cause problems and it hadn't gone well for her." Diane paused.
"I think he was warning your daughter.
Showing her what happened to people who pushed back."
"Can you put that in writing?
What my daughter told you?"
"Yes."
"Send it to Susan today."
I hung up and stood at the window for a long time.
My grandson came home from school at three-fifteen.
He dropped his backpack by the door the way he always did, poured himself a glass of milk, and sat down at the kitchen table.
"Grandma, you okay?
You look weird."
"I'm fine," I said.
"How was practice?"
"Good.
Coach says my swing is getting better." He took a long drink of milk.
"Can we have pancakes for dinner?
Like breakfast for dinner?"
"Yes," I said.
"We can do that."
He grinned and went to find his homework.
May you like
I turned back to the window.
Three more days.
