Death on the Mountain

By Angela Thompson

Death on the Mountain is an engaging and sometimes haunting look in to the mind of a single mother and her two children. As Allie struggles with the reality of day-to-day life and an ex-husband who refuses to relinquish his hold on this family, she finds refuge in the mountains of southwestern Virginia where she grew up and love where she least expects it. This story will both excite your senses and stimulate your imagination. Angela King Thompson has presented a riveting novel of action and love, and heroine that many women can identify with.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angela Thompson
• Release date: Jun 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310117664

Book preview

Preface

Death on the Mountain is an engaging and sometimes haunting look in to the mind of a single mother and her two children. As Allie struggles with the reality of day-to-day life and an ex-husband who refuses to relinquish his hold on this family, she finds refuge in the mountains of southwestern Virginia where she grew up and love where she least expects it. This story will both excite your senses and stimulate your imagination.

Allie wiped her hand across her bloody face, smearing makeup and tears. Come on you fucking son of a bitch . . . try one more time! she cried, swaying back and forth, preparing for his rush. She hefted the hammer, ready to swing.

Roy stared in shocked amazement, first at his wrist then at his estranged wife. You bitch…you fucking bitch! I’m gonna kill you just for the pure joy of it! Glancing at the children in the driveway behind her, he added . . . and in front of the brats.

Allie spun around screaming, Jonah, take Katie and get in the car. Do it now! Lock the doors! Her quick glance at the kids provided the opening for which Roy had been waiting. He rushed forward. Allie knew his attack patterns from the years of beatings she had endured before leaving him, returning today at a time she thought he would be at work to find the documents she knew were in the safe in the closet. She dodged right and brought the hammer down on his shoulder as hard as she could. Roy shrieked and staggered into the garage wall. His left arm now hanging loosely, he used his right arm to grab a hand sickle and swung viciously, missing Allie by a mere inch. Allie knew she had to escape quickly. The beating was weakening her body. Her left eye was swollen, her lips split and a few ribs felt bruised if not cracked. Thank God she had slid down beside the tool bench! Jonah, get ready! With one last swing of the hammer at the hated man who had once promised to love and cherish her, she slammed it straight and true at his knee before she turned and fled towards the car. Grabbing the keys from her son, she started the car and careened down the driveway, spraying bits of lawn across the road as the tires screeched before she sped forward, heading for their apartment across town.

Both children sat quietly as she drove, horrified by their mother’s face. Katie ventured to say, Mama, you’re bleeding. Jonah wept silent tears. Allie saw a McDonalds ahead and on impulse turned into the drive thru lane, defiantly meeting the eyes of the girl who took her money and handed her an iced tea and two Happy Meals. Jonah and Katie munched fries and examined their toys while Allie took a tentative sip of her drink, swished it around in her mouth and leaned out her open door to spit. Examining the liquid, she was thankful to see no fragments of teeth. They drove on home the back way.

Allie surveyed the parking lot cautiously before allowing the children to get out of the car. No one was anywhere around, so she led them across the asphalt and up the steps to their apartment. After settling them down to watch a movie, she went into the bathroom and steeled herself to look in the mirror.

The swollen left side of her face was purple and black, the eyeball red from broken blood vessels. She was going to have a world record black eye but her sight was clear. Probing carefully with her tongue, she felt her slightly loose front teeth where he had landed one right in her mouth. Her left ear was still ringing, and she couldn’t seem to hear with it so he had probably ruptured the eardrum again. Lifting her shirt was agony; her arm muscles cramped in protest. There was a perfect shoe imprint on her right hip, and severe bruising on her back and belly. There would probably be blood in her urine for a week or two, but she would survive. The immediate concern was whether—how could she possibly go to work like this?

Allie had planned their escape very carefully, squirreling away money for an apartment, daycare and groceries before taking the kids out of school one morning and spiriting them away. She had never returned, until today, finally certain that she would never need to return again. Last week, she had applied for a receptionist position for the most prestigious law firm in Raleigh. Using her maiden name she had landed the job. Putting the kids in day had been heart-wrenching, but with little choice she searched online for reviews and visited the local centers, finally finding one nearby that appeared to be a good match. The center’s van would transport Jonah to and from the elementary school while Katie stayed in the center all day. Both children seemed to like the arrangement well enough, but Allie’s conscience nagged. There was really no alternative to the harsh equation: on the one hand, kids in daycare with a live mother, or on the other hand, kids in daycare with a dead mother.

Although she had been tempted simply to grab a paycheck in some out of the way place where she would never see Roy or anyone who knew him, she knew she needed the benefits and stability an established firm would give her. One morning, Courtney Nash, head of the firm, had stopped short in the marble lobby and called out Good Lord! What are you doing there?

Allie had laughed and called back, I work here now.

Courtney had smiled his welcome and continued to his elevator on the other side of the lobby. Once in his office, he ran over his appointments, ordered all his paperwork, requested his office assistant to make a Starbucks run, and immediately called his good friend and fellow church deacon Roy.

Roy had picked up the phone while hurdled over in agony, unable to concentrate on anything other than his injured wrist, sprained knee and bruised shoulder. She had actually injured him! That fucking bitch was going to pay and pay dearly.

He was brooding over how dearly when the phone rang. Courtney’s bright and cheerful Hey friend! pissed him off all over again.

What are you so damned cheerful about? Roy snarled.

You should have told me Allie was looking for a job. I would have given her that position right away if I’d known. Roy straightened up. What are you babbling about Court?

Allie accepted the receptionist position we had open. I thought you knew.

Allie walked out of here with the kids two months ago. Roy paused as an idea flashed into his mind. How does your schedule look today?

Not bad. Want to have lunch at the Capital Room?

About one? Meet you there.

Roy disconnected from the call, an idea rapidly taking form and shape—one that was evil, was devious, and was perfect.

At one o’clock the Capital Room was alive with diners, wait staff and gossip. This was the place where power deals in both the private sector and the government were negotiated. Politicians hunched over plates of fried chicken with fluffy mashed potatoes and gravy, striking bargains between savory bites and long drinks of sweet iced tea. At a corner table Courtney was staring in horrified silence at his lunch guest. Roy, I can’t do that! It’s absolutely against the law to start with, not to mention it’s cruel and unethical! Think about your children!

Roy calmly ate another bite of his biscuit with honey. Who is your biggest corporate client? Courtney blanched as he stumbled out, Your company. And who is your biggest individual client?You are…Has she asked you to handle the separation or the divorce?

No.

So there’s no problem. She can’t work for you. It’s a conflict of interest. She has to go.

That’s not grounds for dismissal, Roy!

How close were you this morning? Couldn’t have been very close. Right now she looks like a hooker that got beat up by a john. Noncompliance with maintaining a professional appearance suitable for business purposes is grounds for immediate dismissal. Roy laughed at Courtney’s stunned expression.

Hold on a minute. Did you assault her?

Of course not! Unless you were in my garage, you couldn’t know that. Roy was sharp. But as of now you are my divorce lawyer. I want to get this started. I deny paternity of those two children, and I refuse to pay child support until paternity is proved.

Courtney choked on his iced tea. What are they supposed to do for money then? How do they get groceries and a roof over their head?

Not my concern. I’m not the one who left. Throwing a couple of bills down on the table, Roy got up slowly and limped out of the room.

Courtney reached for his iced tea but his hands were shaking too hard to pick up the glass. There was no question he must do as Roy demanded, but the coldness, the brutality of it sickened him. So deep was he in his thoughts that he didn’t notice a young black man dressed conservatively in a dark suit and tie approach the table. Excuse me sir, but aren’t you Courtney Nash? Courtney turned, startled by the interruption. Yes, I am. And who might you be?

Sir, my name is Tremaine Kint. I just passed the bar and opened my own law practice. Your firm is the most successful in this state, so I figured you would be the one person best able to tell me how to get there myself. Not to your firm, but to your level of success.

Indicating the seat opposite him, Courtney answered, Mr. Kint, I’m flattered but to be honest, success depends on your team. You are the one who stands in court before the judge and jury, but it’s your team that’s critical to getting you there. So, who’s on your team?

I have a couple of clerks who are studying for the bar at night--on a shoestring budget of course. I’m just starting out, so no experienced office people will even consider working in my practice . . . unless you know someone looking for part time or rich enough work for minimum wage?

I just may be able to help you out. Give me your card and a couple of days.

Returning into the building, Courtney crossed the marble lobby and approached the receptionist’s desk. Allie sat with her head down, facing away from him. She didn’t seem too bad. Maybe Roy was mistaken. Then she turned around and Courtney felt shocked to his very core. Roy had beaten her face to a pulp. With a quiet murmur, he invited her to his office on the top floor of the building in ten minutes.

Courtney Nash was a kind and ethical man; being strong armed into firing an employee would have been repugnant to him at any time, but Allie’s desperate situation made him recoil from Roy’s ultimatum. He stood in front of the glass wall of his office, rocking back and forth on his feet, his hands behind his back while his thoughts raced. The divorce and property settlement would be brutal. Roy would skate the edge of legal and ethical as closely as possible. Allie was going to need a friend, someone ‘in the loop.’ A smile lit his face and silent laughter shook him as the knock on the door sounded.

Her battered face wiped his smile off. A skillful job with cosmetics could only hide so much. The painful swelling and blackened eye were grotesque. He hadn’t seen this kind of damage since his early years in the District Attorneys’ offices. Roy did this, didn’t he?

Tears pooled in her eyes but she would not let them fall. Yes. He did.

Courtney raised his eyebrows. Why isn’t he in jail? No police report. No 911 call. Nothing.

"Most of them owe him favors . . . and if they don’t, then their superior officers do. Besides, he would have said it was self-defense. This time I managed to get in a little damage of my own.

Courtney had just witnessed Roy’s pain and bruises, and had to agree. Pretty damned stupid to start a war in the garage.

Allie’s mouth dropped open, He told you that? I can’t believe he’d tell anybody something like that!

So it was in the garage?

Oh yeah--in front of the kids too. He’s like that bully in second grade that pulls the wings off flies. She shuddered. He’s gonna kill me and the kids before this is over. You know it and I know it. Roy never forgets—or forgives. Slumping down in the chair, she drew a long breath. I can guess what this meeting is about. I’m fired. I’m also not welcome at any of the other big businesses, right? So what’s next?

"Well, you’re fired --effective four weeks from today, but do not report for work here again. I’ll be contacting you to pick up your check.’

Four weeks? Courtney, the usual way firing is done is that you immediately leave the premises of the business . . . .

Courtney interrupted, which you are.

And you do not pass Go and you do not collect two hundred dollars, so to speak.

"I have a couple of ideas I want to see about, and you need time for that eye to heal. I’m going to give you that time. Listen carefully. My guess is you have the kids in a nice daycare and you have a comfortable apartment. Ditch both. Find something cheaper. Your standard of living is about to take a plummeting dive. Another thing: He’s going to fight you every step of the way which means no child support until paternity is established.

Paternity?

He’s denying that the children are his.

What? Court, how will we survive?

Give me a couple of weeks. You’re going to need a top divorce lawyer, among many other things. Just sit tight for now. I may be able to help you out, but no one can ever know. Now, get your things and go. While Allie cleared her belongings and went home to scan the classified ads in the local paper, Courtney Nash scheduled a dinner meeting to set his plans in motion.

Tremaine was ill at ease standing at the bar in the Angus Barn, a top quality place where one could celebrate an anniversary, a birthday or a special event but at a cost. The food was outstanding and the setting comfortable with handmade quilts decorating walls and hanging over banisters. Definitely a Courtney Nash kind of place; not so much a Tremaine Kint kind of place. He was curious about the phone call he had received earlier in the day. The chance to talk with the founder of Nash, Taylor & Thompson, probably the best law firm in the Southeast was an honor he had not dared to expect, but to receive an invitation to dinner to discuss a business matter almost boggled the mind!

Court paused at the top of the stairs watching Tremaine. The young man stood tall and slender in his black suit. The offer Court was about to make was probably illegal but he hated bullies. Roy’s thinly veiled threats had been reprehensible. This response was dubious but would be effective. He hoped the young man standing at the bar would agree. Court put a smile on his face and moved forward with his hand outstretched.

Tremaine, I’m mighty glad to see you tonight. Happy your schedule allowed for this meeting.

Tremaine raised an eyebrow. My schedule is almost nonexistent since my practice is not even a year old.

The dry reply reminded Court that quick research revealed this man to be no fool, nor was he a naïve novice. I’m sure that will change soon. The men paused as the waiter seated them and passed out menus. Both men requested sweet tea. After their server moved out of earshot, conversation resumed. As I understand it; you worked a full time job and still graduated near the top of your class. Impressive. You turned down Duke Law to go to Campbell since attorneys from Duke generally go into politics while attorneys from Campbell actually practice law. Correct so far?

Tremaine nodded, easing back into his seat. Why was Courtney Nash asking questions about him? He’d obviously done some research. Court continued. "You’ve opened a small general practice on South Sanders Street and practice both civil and criminal law.

Again, correct so far?" Court nodded towards the waiter, and frosty glasses of sweet iced tea appeared beside them as the waiter asked if they were ready to order.

Two prime rib dinners later, after discussing the normally taboo subjects of politics, legal gossip, and basketball, and having ascertained that they liked one another’s views and company, Court returned to the matter that was on his mind. You said you’re looking for office help--someone to man your front desk-- secretarial duties as well? Tremaine nodded. I think I have the perfect candidate for you. There’s some well-aged sipping whiskey back at my office. Let’s finish this business there, if you’re agreeable?

Tremaine was very agreeable. He’d always wondered what a high powered legal office looked like, how it was set up. Ambitious, he’d be setting up his own one day. He parked his battered truck in front of an elegant building in the heart of downtown Raleigh just two blocks from the Wake County courthouse and watched his dinner companion slide his Mercedes in behind. It figures, Tremaine thought as he enviously eyed the sports car. Still gazing at the car, he remarked, My Mercedes is in the shop.

Court grinned back. So is my truck.

Settling into leather chairs, Court held his glass tightly. What I tell you goes no further than this office please. Tremaine nodded once. I have a client. He and his company make up a fairly large part of our business. He’s a real bastard. He’s a bully, and I have no choice but to represent him. About a month ago we hired his wife as our front desk receptionist and overflow secretary. I didn’t realize it until this morning. A sip of Dutch courage was taken by both men. I did not know they had separated and when I said something about her working here, he went up in flames. It would not be too far off the mark to say he was foaming at the mouth. You probably saw him today at the Capital Room where we had lunch.

I saw him. Not impressed.

Well. To make a long story short, I was forced to fire his wife. She had been beaten to a bloody mess. When I went to ask her to come to my office I got a good look at her face and wanted to go kick his ass bloody myself. What I did was to tell her she was fired as of four weeks from today.

Excuse me? Ah, that’s not how getting fired works.

Court managed a grim chuckle. Well, it must be true. You’re the second person who’s told me that.

Who was the first?

She was. She needs time to heal and rethink her plans. She had assumed Roy would play within the law. He won’t. What I can and did tell her was that she’s not going to find any kind of decent job. Roy has put the word out, and nobody will let her within a mile of their business. That’s where my train of thought started. Allie is smart, capable, but even more important, she is empathetic; people respond to her. They tell her things they won’t tell me, and they should be telling me everything! I was hoping eventually to move her up to paralegal. She’s smart enough and she’s good enough. I think you should hire her. I know you probably can’t afford anything much above minimum wage, so here’s where Part Two comes in-- but before we go there, what do you think so far?

Tremaine considered for several minutes. Roy couldn’t hurt his practice and doing Courtney Nash a favor could only help his practice, so it sounded like a win/win situation. Nodding, he answered slowly, I’m in . . . right now. Keep talking.

With a deep breath Courtney continued, Allie is a great person, a terrific mother. She probably never knew what Roy was until it was too late to get out. Hell, I didn’t know. Her main goal now is protecting the children, Jonah and Katie. Roy’s first line of defense is to deny paternity of the two children.

There’s a question?

Oh no! Court interjected. No doubt whatsoever! That’s Roy. Not a fair fighter. Every dirty trick in the book and stonewalling all the way. He doesn’t want her or the kids, nor is he going to part with his money. Apparently it would cramp his lifestyle. A look of utter contempt and loathing flashed across Court’s face.

Tremaine also seemed disgusted but less willing to judge. I agree you’ve got an asshole for a client and by all means, I’ll hire his wife, especially with your recommendation, but there’s more isn’t there?

Yes, and this is the part where we could both get disbarred. Court took a deep breath and rushed on. I want you to represent her in the divorce and property settlement. Court suddenly felt the weight of his sixty five years. Roy beat her to a bloody wreck. Not for the first time either, I’d bet. Now he wants to weasel his way out of the whole matter. You are familiar with the term ‘starving them out I believe? The other man nodded. As I said, the first thing he’s going to do is deny paternity. He won’t have to pay child support, alimony or any other expenses until we end up on the court docket, so he’ll want me to avoid service with papers as long as possible. He’ll have up to the morning of our court date to settle up.

She’ll have no money for rent, utilities, groceries, daycare…no money for anything. She’ll have to pay for the paternity tests for each child—and she won’t have the money. Roy is counting on it. Anger darkened his face. I am personally aware of this practice. It offends me, not only on a personal level but on a professional level as well. He intends to use me and my offices, the laws of this state and the courts as weapons against his wife.

I promise you will not lose financially in this matter. You could charge her absolutely the minimum you can, say, perhaps five hundred dollars. Maybe take ten dollars a week from her paycheck to cover it. I will personally cover costs incurred. He can never know--nor can Allie, that I’m in the picture as anything more than Roy’s attorney. When this matter is over and the dust has settled, I would like to invite you to join this firm. I know that this sounds like a bribe but it really isn’t . . . well, okay, maybe it is, but I’d have made the offer anyway. The fact is we’re going to have a retirement in the firm, and I will need young talented minds; yours comes VERY highly recommended. Professor Arnold couldn’t say enough about your mind and your integrity, but what struck me is that he also said that you had a way of talking around corners. That kind of mind I can use. Court paused. I know I’ve thrown a lot at you and you should definitely take time to think about it. Here’s my card. Call when you’re ready and I’ll tell my girl to put you straight on through."

Both men rose and shook hands. Court ushered his guest out to the elevators. Have a safe drive home. Tremaine nodded, You too sir.

Behind the wheel of his old truck, Tremaine navigated through the light traffic on autopilot. His mind was racing. On one hand, the laws of justice are created so that all can have equal footing, but he’d seen too often the reality that clients with the best (often the most expensive) attorney usually win. Just how impartial could Courtney Nash be about this mess? Courtney might find his client repulsive on a personal level, but the client was obviously rich and powerful enough to coerce Courtney into firing his receptionist in a New York minute. The key, he decided, would be actually meeting the wife.

Allie sat at the breakfast table with a cold cup of coffee beside her while she totaled up the bills. Courtney’s Ditch! instruction kept ringing through her head. He was right, no question about it. The nest egg she had hoarded and stashed so carefully was shrinking at an alarming rate, and with no job in sight they would be in real trouble soon! Although she’d smoked her last cigarette years ago, she’d never wanted one so badly in her life.

When the phone rang again, Allie shuddered. There were already four long messages on the machine from Roy threatening to kill her, her parents, the children, or even more chilling, the last threatening to sue for sole custody. That frightened her worst of all. At the best of times, he was unfit to care for a pet or even a plant.

Hello?

A strong young male voice came through on the machine. Is this Allie Duncan’s residence?

She picked up the receiver. "This is Allie. And you are .