Ladies' Night by Andrews, Kay (find a book to read TXT) 📗

camera, stricken. His pace slowed and his facial expression softened, slightly. The camera moved back a little, now showing a gleaming white Trans-Am in the foreground.

“Don’t do this, Callie,” Keeler pleaded. “Bo needs me. You can’t just take him away like this. I won’t let you. This is his home.”

“Not anymore it ain’t,” Luke Grigsby taunted. He was almost at the driver’s side of the Trans-Am. “You call living in a double-wide trailer a home? The kid doesn’t even have his own room. He’s coming with us to Birmingham, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

“Fuck you, Luke,” Wyatt Keeler’s voice rang out crystal clear. He was advancing again, his face menacing.

“Get in the car, Callie,” Luke said loudly. “Come on, before this maniac hurts somebody.”

Luke opened the driver-side door and started to slide onto the seat. The camera was moving now, so the footage was even jerkier and out of focus. Even with that, Grace watched, appalled. Grigsby’s head popped up above the car door. “See you later, alligator,” he said, smirking, just before he closed the door.

Wyatt Keeler lunged toward the car. “The hell you say,” he bellowed, smashing his fist into the rolled-up car window.

“Stop it, Wyatt,” the woman yelled. Her shrill scream pierced the cool courthouse air. The video stopped abruptly, and a moment later, the lights in the courtroom were turned on again.

Grace stared, wide-eyed with horror at the now-white screen.

“Ms. Entwhistle?” Judge Stackpole’s face was deadpan. “I can see why you didn’t want the court to view that video.” He turned toward Wyatt Keeler. “You, sir, are lucky that gentleman did not file assault charges against you. Frankly, what I’ve just seen here turns my stomach.”

Wyatt Keeler bowed his head and buried his face in his hands.

His wife’s lawyer saw an opening and dove right in. “Judge, as you can see, Wyatt Keeler is not a fit father or role model for a young child. We’d ask the court to grant my client’s application to go ahead with her planned move to Alabama with her fiancé, Mr. Grigsby, and of course, we want to have the previously agreed-to custody settlement amended to reflect that. Mrs. Keeler would be willing to allow Bo to visit his father for monthly supervised weekend visits, and she’d also be open to discussions about alternating holidays and, possibly, summer visits of up to a week. Again, to be supervised by a neutral party.”

Wyatt Keeler raised his head. “One weekend a month? This is my son we’re talking about.”

“Quiet, Mr. Keeler!” Stackpole boomed.

Betsy Entwhistle stood and placed a warning hand on her client’s shoulder. “I apologize for my client’s outburst. He won’t do it again. And I’ll add that he is not proud of his behavior that day. But judge, that video was choreographed and shot by Mrs. Keeler and Mr. Grigsby. It’s just as important to note what you don’t see as what you do. For instance, that video doesn’t show Mr. Grigsby deliberately baiting my client…”

“I saw all I needed to see,” Stackpole interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “Mr. Keeler?”

Betsy Entwhistle gave a brief nod and her client stood.

Stackpole’s eyes drilled into the hapless Wyatt Keeler. “Regardless of what that video did or did not show, I find the actions shown there to be alarming, bordering on criminal.” He looked over at the opposing lawyer. “When do Mrs. Keeler and Mr. Grigsby intend to relocate to Birmingham?”

After a brief whispered conference, the other lawyer cleared his throat. “Early August, Judge. Although Mr. Grigsby will move there immediately, Mrs. Keeler needs time to settle things here. But we’d ask that your custody order become effective immediately.”

Stackpole thought it over. “I don’t see any need for a rush. I’m going to take this under advisement. I have some thoughts, and I’ll issue a ruling, probably by the end of business today.” He glared at Wyatt Keeler. “And you, sir, are to stay away from Mr. Grigsby. If this court hears of even a hint of any more aggression from you, I’ll issue a temporary restraining order. Is that understood?”

“Understood,” Betsy Entwhistle said.

“Understood,” her client echoed.

Stackpole flicked his eyes over at Callie Keeler, who was dressed in a demure pale-blue, long-sleeved dress. “Mrs. Keeler, if there are any more incidents, you’re free to take that back up with the court again.”

“Oh, I will Judge,” Callie said, her high-pitched voice sounding defiant. “You better believe I will.”

Stackpole jerked his head at the bailiff. “Ten-minute recess. Then I’ll hear my next case.”

*   *   *

Mitzi touched Grace’s arm. “Let’s make a bathroom run before they call us.” Grace followed her lawyer out of the courtroom and down a long, narrow hallway.

As they walked, Grace spotted Wyatt Keeler. He was sitting on a wooden bench, focused on conversation with his lawyer. He was deeply tanned, and from here Grace could see that his dress shirt was ill-fitting, the collar too big, the sleeves too long. The shirt had obviously just come from a package, as the factory fold marks were still visible.

The other lawyer looked up just as they were passing. “Hey, Betsy,” Mitzi murmured, nodding. “Looks like Stackpole is in rare form today.”

Betsy Entwhistle rolled her eyes. Her client turned, noticing the two women who’d been in the courtroom earlier, and blushed, then looked down at his hands. For the first time, Grace noticed that his right hand was heavily bandaged.

“He’s a peach, isn’t he?” Betsy said. “I saw you sitting in the courtroom. Are you on his docket today?”

“Unfortunately,” Mitzi said. She gestured toward Grace. “This is my client, Grace Stanton.”

“And this is my nephew, Wyatt Keeler,” Betsy said.

Wyatt Keeler offered them a solemn smile, revealing choirboy dimples. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown, framed with stubby dark lashes. He was seated, but he had the lean, lanky look of somebody who spent a lot of time outdoors. “I hope you fare better with that guy than I did,” he said quietly.

Up close, Grace thought, he didn’t look quite as much like