Chapter 7 - The Whispers in the Daylight
The next three days were a blur of legal maneuvers and domestic restoration.
With Simon gone, the Coronado house felt like a ship that had been cleared of toxic smoke. I hired a cleaning crew that scrubbed every floor, bleached the countertops, and threw away every trace of Larkin’s perfume and Simon’s cigars. I spent five hundred dollars at the commissary, filling the pantry with cereal, fresh fruit, chicken, and Jonah’s favorite peanut butter cups.
On Friday morning, I walked Jonah to school. For the first time in months, his head was up. He was wearing clean jeans, a brand-new jacket, and his hair was neatly combed.
As we walked down C Avenue, neighbors who had previously averted their eyes when Simon was around began to stop us.
"Claire! It’s so wonderful you're home," said Mrs. Higgins, our seventy-year-old neighbor whose hydrangeas bordered our driveway. She looked down at Jonah with soft, pitying eyes, then stepped closer to me, lowering her voice. "We were so worried, dear. We saw... things. That red car parked in your driveway overnight while you were deployed. Simon told us you had separated and were dating someone in the Navy."
"Simon lied," I said simply.
Mrs. Higgins pressed her hand against her mouth. "I knew it. He wouldn't let Jonah play with the neighborhood children. He told everyone the boy was having severe behavioral problems."
"Jonah has never had a behavioral problem in his life," I replied, feeling that familiar steel settle into my voice. "He was being neglected."
"If you need anything, Claire—anything at all—we’re here," she said, squeezing my arm.
The neighborhood was waking up to the truth. Simon’s facade was cracking from both sides.
Later that afternoon, Evelyn called my cell phone. Her tone was brisk and triumphant.
"The judge granted the emergency temporary restraining order, Claire. Simon cannot come within five hundred yards of you, Jonah, his school, or the residence. Furthermore, the judge froze all assets in Apex Studio Living LLC pending the evidentiary hearing on the fraud charges."
"Did they serve him?" I asked.
"They served him this morning at Larkin’s apartment in Pacific Beach," Evelyn chuckled darkly. "Apparently, Larkin’s landlord wasn't thrilled to have three sheriff’s deputies knocking on her door before breakfast. Simon’s attorney tried to claim that Simon was suffering from 'spousal abandonment stress.' The judge didn't even look up from her notes."
"What about the forged equity line?"
"The bank has initiated an internal fraud investigation," Evelyn said. "They’ve suspended the line of credit. But here’s the complication, Claire. Simon has a brother in Texas—Marcus. Marcus is a senior partner at a corporate defense firm in Dallas. He just hired a heavyweight family law litigator here in San Diego. They aren't going down without a fight. They’re planning to file a motion claiming that your military duties make you an unfit primary custodian."
"They can try," I said. "My command has already approved thirty days of post-deployment leave, followed by a two-year shore duty billet right here at Naval Amphibious Base Coronado. I’m not stepping foot on a ship until Jonah is twelve."
"That takes the wind out of their sails," Evelyn agreed. "Hold tight, Claire. The preliminary hearing is set for Tuesday morning. Keep Jonah close."
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"He's right beside me," I said, looking out the kitchen window at Jonah, who was sitting on the freshly mowed grass, finally throwing a tennis ball for our neighbor’s golden retriever.
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