Gray Mountain: A Novel(77)

Francine looked blankly at the table while her five children nodded yes.

“How long will it take you?” Lonnie asked. “I’m missing work right now.”

“So are we,” Annette said sternly. “We have other clients, other business. In fact, both Ms. Kofer and I are due in court in thirty minutes. This is not a pressing matter.”

“Oh come on,” Jonah barked. “It’s just a simple will, barely two pages long, won’t take you fifteen minutes to fix up. We’ll take Momma down to the café for breakfast while y’all do it, then we’ll get her to sign it and be on our way.”

“We ain’t leaving till she signs the new one,” Irma said boldly, as if they might set up camp right there in the conference room.

“Oh yes you are,” Annette said. “Or else I’ll call the sheriff. Samantha, when do you think you can have the will prepared?”

“Wednesday afternoon.”

“Great. Mrs. Crump, we’ll see you then.”

“Come on!” DeLoss said, standing and red-faced. “You got the damned thing in your computer. Just spit it out. Won’t take five minutes and Momma’ll sign it. We can’t wait around here all week. Should’ve left yesterday.”

“I’m asking you to leave now, sir,” Annette said. “And if you want faster service, there are plenty of lawyers up and down Main Street.”

“And real lawyers at that,” Euna Faye said, pushing back from the table. The rest of them slowly got to their feet and helped Francine to the door. As they were leaving the room, Samantha said, “And you do want the new will, Mrs. Crump?”

“Damned right she does,” Jonah said, ready to throw a punch, but Francine did not respond. They left without another word and slammed the door behind them. When it stopped rattling, Annette said, “Don’t prepare the will. Give them time to get out of town, then call Francine and tell her that we will not be a part of this. They have a gun to her head. The whole thing stinks. If she wants a new will, let her pay for one. They can scrape together $200. We’ve wasted enough time.”

“Agreed. We’re going to court?”

“Yes. I got a call last night. Phoebe and Randy Fanning are in jail, got busted Saturday with a truckload of meth. They’re looking at years in the pen.”

“Wow. So much for a quiet Monday. Where are their kids?”

“I don’t know but we need to find out.”


The roundup ensnared seven gang members, though the state police said more arrests were coming. Phoebe sat next to Randy on the front row, along with Tony, who’d been out of prison for only four months and was now headed back for a decade. Next to Tony was one of the thugs who had threatened Samantha weeks earlier during her first trip to court. The other three were from central casting—long, dirty hair, tattoos crawling up their necks, unshaven faces, the red puffy eyes of addicts who’ve been stoned for a long time. One by one they walked to the bench, told His Honor they were not guilty, and sat back down. Annette convinced Richard, the prosecutor, to allow her a private moment with Phoebe. They huddled in a corner with a deputy close by.

She had lost weight since they had last seen her, and her face showed the ravages of meth addiction. Her eyes watered immediately and her first words were “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe this.”

Annette showed no sympathy. “Don’t apologize to me. I’m not your mother. I’m here because I’m worried about your kids. Where are they?” She was whispering, but forcefully.

“With a friend. Can you get me out of jail?”

“We don’t do criminal law, Phoebe, only civil. The court will appoint another lawyer for you in a few minutes.”

The tears vanished as quickly as they materialized. “What happens to my kids?” she asked.

“Well, if the charges are anywhere near the truth, you and Randy are about to spend several years in prison, separate facilities of course. Do you have a family member who can raise the kids?”

“I don’t think so. No. My family turned their backs. His family is all locked up, except his mother and she’s crazy. I can’t go to prison, you understand. I gotta take care of my kids.” The tears returned and were instantly dripping off her cheeks. She doubled over as if punched in the gut and began shaking. “They can’t take my kids,” she said too loudly, and the judge glanced at them.

Samantha could not help but think, Were you thinking about your kids when you were peddling meth? She handed her a tissue and patted her shoulder.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Annette said. Phoebe returned to the group in orange jumpsuits. Samantha and Annette took a seat across the aisle. Annette whispered, “She’s not technically our client anymore. Our representation ended when we dismissed the divorce.”

“Then why are we here?”

“The Commonwealth will try and terminate parental rights. That’s something we need to monitor, but there’s not much we can do.” They watched and waited for a few minutes as the prosecutor and the judge discussed the matter of bail hearings. Annette read a text message and said, “Oh boy. The FBI is raiding Donovan’s office, and Mattie needs help. Let’s go.”

“The FBI?”

“So you’ve heard of them?” Annette mumbled as she stood and hustled down the aisle.