Chapter 14 - The Hearing Before Christmas
The temporary hearing was scheduled for the week before Christmas.
By then, Lily had started speaking to a child therapist experienced in helping children after frightening family incidents.
Her sessions were hers, not evidence-mining expeditions for me.
The therapist helped me understand that Lily might want her father and still fear his relatives.
Both feelings were real.
In court, Daniel's lawyer described him as a loving parent who wanted regular contact.
I didn't disagree with the word loving.
I asked only that contact be organized around Lily's safety and emotional needs.
The judge examined the information properly before the court and made a temporary arrangement designed to keep Lily safe while the case proceeded.
It included structured contact with Daniel and restrictions around the disputed family interactions, subject to later review.
Nothing was declared permanently resolved.
That mattered, even when the uncertainty exhausted me.
Megan's accusations were raised and challenged.
Her edited video drew careful questions about what the missing footage might show.
Robert's account and the medical record were considered in context, not as magical proof of every disputed fact.
Outside the courtroom, Patricia looked furious.
"You got what you wanted," she hissed.
I looked at Lily's little mitten in my hand.
"What I wanted was for someone to stop her."
Daniel asked whether he could give Lily her Christmas present at the next agreed visit.
I told him to coordinate it through the arrangement.
His face fell.
"You talk to me like I'm a stranger."
"I'm trying to learn how to talk to someone who watched our daughter get hurt and told me to stay quiet."
He didn't answer.
That afternoon, the independent financial review returned its preliminary findings.
The signature issue required further investigation, and no one could yet say who had submitted the questionable material.
But several transactions had flowed through an account controlled by Megan.
One transfer had been made on Thanksgiving morning.
Its memo was only two words.
FINAL INSTALLMENT.
Nora stared at it.
May you like
"Final installment for what?" she asked.
