Realizing this, I also start to pull the cases of those that really pissed me off—the ones who seemed to never own up to their actions even when they were faced with indisputable evidence. The pile grows even more when I start recalling those parents who always talked a good game about wanting what was best for their families but never followed through with reunification requirements set forth by social services.
I drop a folder into the pile of suspects.
“What made you choose that one?” Ethan asks, angling his head toward the folder I just put down.
“The guy was incredibly mouthy at court. Not in front of the judge, mind you, but in the hallway. I remember him leaving threatening voicemails directed toward my client.”
“Good call,” he says before dropping his head to read more in the folder in his hands. “What about Cindy or Jack Thibodeaux?”
I shake my head.
“You’re sure?”
I nod. “Both deceased. Murder/suicide a few years ago.”
He looks back down at the folder. “Yeah, I think I remember reading about it online.”
“Alan Brockman?” Lana asks from where she’s set up at the small table across the room.
“No. He just walked away when things got hard. The wife didn’t even have to fight for custody.”
“You don’t think he could’ve changed his mind and is now pissed about it?” Ethan challenges.
I shrug. “I mean, if we’re going by that standard, we might as well have Max research every single name of every single case I worked.”
“True,” Ethan says as he drops the folder in his hands and starts to combine the piles of ones I said “no” with the ones I said “yes” to.
“What are you doing?”
“He can run every single name,” Ethan says with a shrug.
Lana laughs again. “Leave no stone unturned, huh?”
Ethan points at her in agreement, and I have to shake my head.
“Get back to work. If Max doesn’t find what he needs in the narrowed list, we can do that next.”
“A little off topic, but what about Apollo’s case?”
I look up from the folder in my hand, noticing Ethan watching me. Even Lana has paused to hear my response.
“It’s unlikely,” I say, knowing I can legally share information with them, but wondering how Mr. and Mrs. Fosse would feel about me doing it.
“How so?” Lana asks, genuinely curious.
“The bio-dad doesn’t care about the baby. The grandparents want that child, but they’re in California. They aren’t the type to spend weeks harassing someone who really has no bearing on their case. If they were going to go after someone, it would be April or Nate, not me. If something happens to me, they’d just get another attorney. It serves no purpose.”
I say the words. I finally have to accept that what’s happening is very personal.
“We need to go back through every folder again and pull the ones where one parent lost their parental rights, whether they were concerned about it or not. Ethan was right. People change their minds.”
They both nod, and we work until the sun goes down to compile a list of names.
It’s eight at night before we finish, and the list has dozens of names on it.
“We need to make sure Colton has this same list,” Ethan suggests as he makes a second copy of the list.
When Lana goes to use the restroom before we leave, the man doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me with promises of this being over soon.
When we leave, I can admit that I actually believe him.
Chapter 27
Legend
We’ve finished the task at her office, but despite the list being long and my confidence in Max to narrow the search, I’m still left feeling uneasy.
Faith was energized when we left the office, but since we’ve returned to the clubhouse, that energy has waned. Although we were working to get to the bottom of things, she was focused.
Two hours later, she’s back to being withdrawn. If I had to guess, she feels awkward being at the clubhouse even though she’s been met with nothing but kindness. People aren’t asking her questions or giving opinions about what’s going on, and maybe it’s the fact that everyone is acting normal that’s causing problems with her.
Most Cerberus members don’t meddle. The spouses of the members know not to ask questions or prod for information. They know that our work is confidential, and it’s clear as the evening goes on that it doesn’t matter that we aren’t away for a mission. They know work is involved where Faith is concerned, and they’re staying out of it while still attempting to support her.
“She grew up in foster care, didn’t she?” Lana asks quietly as I load food on plates for Faith and me.
I nod, feeling a little uncomfortable talking about Faith when she’s just a handful of feet away at one of the kitchen tables.
“That explains a lot,” Lana continues, and all I can do is give her a questioning look. “She doesn’t know what to make of the people in the club. It took me a long time to understand that not everyone you meet in life has an agenda. This is difficult for her.”