Betrayal - Fern Michaels [46]
“As I said, Mrs. Winter, there isn’t a case without expert testimony to back up Sara’s accusation. She’ll also need a complete physical. If you’re unwilling to subject Sara to this, then I’m afraid I can’t be of any help to you.” Aaron Hanover had been practicing law for more than twenty years. Never in all those years had he met a client he disliked on first sight as much as Mrs. Winter. She was too eager, wanted to know exactly how much money she could get if they won. Aaron was sure she didn’t really care about the trauma her child had experienced any more than the father did. He wasn’t even sure if the allegations were true.
Debbie shot daggers at the attorney. “Are you sure? This is such a painful time for Sara. She feels terrible about telling on her uncle Alex. I would think someone would have a bit of sympathy for my daughter.” She stood and turned to Don. “Let’s go. I don’t think Mr. Hanover can help us.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mrs. Winter. I believe another attorney will advise you to do the same as I’ve suggested.”
Without another word, Debbie yanked Don’s hand and tugged him out of the office. Once they were in the car, Debbie continued to rant and rave. “Doesn’t anyone care about Sara? My God, look at what she’s going through. I hope Alex Rocket rots in prison for what he’s done to her. She’ll never be the same again.” Debbie took a tissue from her purse and blotted her eyes.
Don thought about what the attorney had just explained. He feared that Hanover was right. Sara would need to be examined by a professional, whether or not they filed a civil suit. Debbie wasn’t fully aware of the law.
“I think we need to listen to what Hanover has to say. He’s supposed to be the best plaintiff’s attorney in south Florida. If he wants Sara to undergo a psychiatric evaluation, Deb, we’re gonna have to find someone we can trust. Someone who’s experienced with sexual abuse.”
“How did I know you’d agree with that know-it-all? You men are all alike.” Debbie tapped a cigarette out of a crumpled package. “Can’t you put yourself in Sara’s place, just for a minute? We’ll be lucky if the child has a normal life from this point on.”
Don sighed. Sometimes he wished he’d never laid eyes on this woman. “Sara needs professional help, Debbie. If there is any hope of her leading a normal life, that’s the only way it’s going to happen. She needs someone to listen to her, someone objective. We need to consult a psychiatrist.”
Debbie blew a puff of smoke from her glossed lips. “Then you take care of this garbage. I’m tired of it already. She’s your daughter, too.”
“Which is it, Deb? Either you care or you don’t. I’m very concerned about our daughter. I’m also burning with rage at the man who I thought was my best friend. If you won’t find a professional to help Sara, I will do it myself. She needs help.”
“Go ahead, then. I say Sara will be even more traumatized, but you know everything, so we’ll do it your way. Let’s go have lunch, we have reservations at Tin City.”
“You always have to make everything so difficult. I’m taking you home. Screw lunch at Tin City, I can’t stand to be around you a minute longer than absolutely necessary.” Don punched the gas, pressing Debbie backward in her seat. At that minute, he hated her with every ounce of his being.
Debbie dug her fingers into the dash. “Are you trying to get us killed or what? Slow down right this minute or let me out, you bastard!”
Don eased off the gas, but not because Debbie asked him to. He’d spotted a highway patrol vehicle at the next intersection. Let her think she was controlling the situation. It was the only way to shut her mouth. The last thing he needed was a speeding ticket.
“Let’s just go home. I’ll take care of Sara, and you can do whatever it is you do.”
“So now I don’t do anything, is that what you’re trying to say? Forget that I go out and bust my ass every day trying to sell these overpriced houses. I guess the next fifty-thousand-dollar commission check I collect, I’ll donate it to a homeless shelter. Since I don’t do anything.”
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