Her voice was flat. "He had letters," Garrett said carefully. "Whether they are accurately representative of Harold's actual views or selectively chosen, or in some cases," he paused, "composed rather than found, is something we will need to address." "Harold wrote those letters," Martha said. "I don't doubt that.
Harold documented everything. He kept records of every incident he decided constituted evidence of my instability. Every time I cried, every time I raised my voice, every time I refused something he wanted." She looked at the documents with an expression that was not quite anger and not quite grief, but something between them that was older and quieter than either. "He told me once that a man should always be prepared to defend his decisions.
I thought he meant to God." A short, hard exhale. "He meant to a judge." Garrett looked at her steadily. "How much of your written statement is complete?"
"All of it." She pushed the pages across the table to him. twenty-two pages in close, clear handwriting. Dated entries going back eight years, specific and precise and entirely without the melodrama that would have made it easier to dismiss. "I wrote everything I could remember with dates attached. I wrote it the way I was taught in school to write a factual account.
No embellishment, no interpretation, just what happened and when." Garrett picked up the pages and began reading. His face remained composed, but something in his posture changed. A settling, a focusing, the way a man looks when he has walked into a fight expecting to be outnumbered and realizes the ammunition situation is better than reported. Agnes, who had been standing with her arms crossed watching Garrett read, said to Martha, "You need to understand what tomorrow means.
If Alderman grants the emergency petition, it's temporary. thirty days while a full hearing is arranged. But temporary means they can take Lily today." Martha's jaw tightened. "I know. An Alderman is not Calhoun.
He doesn't have a 20-year arrangement with the Briggs family. He doesn't know anyone in this town. He's going to walk in tomorrow and look at two sides and make a decision based on what he sees. Agnes looked at her directly. Which means what he sees has to be absolutely clear.
What do we need? Sam said. Garrett looked up from the pages. Three things. First, the original will.
Do you have access to it? Harold kept his papers in the house, Martha said. Wade has the house. Harold filed a copy with the county land office when he registered the grant, Agnes said. Everyone looked at her.