A Family Torn

"I'm detective Lebowski; you're waiting to see me about her daughter?"

"Yes, she's being sexually molested," he said, standing up to shake the detective's hand.

"Come with me where we can talk in private," responded Lebowski.

Tom followed him to an interview room in the back of the station. They sat down at a large table opposite one another. The detective started off the conversation.

"Do you have any proof that you daughter is being molested? Has she confided in you?" He was an expert in cases of sexual abuse of minors and knew they rarely talked to anyone about it. Talking to a parent would be even more rare.

"No, this guy has her to terrified to talk to anyone. Her school brought it to our attention..."

"Our?" questioned the cop.

"Yeah, her mother and me. They said she was exhibiting the classic signs. We're sending her to a therapist. Today she got this text," he said, holding the phone up so Lebowski could read it.

"This is your daughter's phone?" he asked.

"Kind of," Tom replied.

Lebowski looked at him, not sure what he meant by his comment.

Tom explained. "I cloned her phone."

The cop gave a small sigh. "You know that's illegal, right? It's a federal offense."

"It's my phone. I bought it. I pay for the cell service."

"Yeah, but when you give a phone to someone, that person has a right to privacy under the law." He looked at the pain of a father whose child was in trouble and decided to drop the technicality of the phone issue. "Never mind, just don't make a habit of going around cloning phones. Let's see," he said, reaching for the phone.

He read the short correspondence and swiped to find more. "Is this it; just these two texts?"

"Yeah. I know it's not much but it proves that someone is molesting her."

"Mr. Hayden, I understand your concern. I have children too, but this really isn't proof. It does appear that somebody's threatening her but there's no mention of anything sexual."

"Okay, isn't the fact that she's being threatened, enough? At least trace it and find out who's making the threats."

"Mr. Hayden, I wish it was that easy. We need a warrant to trace a call and I'm afraid there's just not enough here to get one."

Tom was now getting angry and frustrated. He stood and took his phone from the cop's hands. "That's it? You're not going to do anything...nothing?"

"There's just not much we can do at this point. I'm sorry. Keep monitoring her calls and texts. If they get sexually explicit then come back. If you can get enough for a warrant I'd be happy to try and trace it. But I have to tell you, unless the guy is a complete idiot, he's probably using a burner phone. If so there's no way to trace it. The best way to get these guys is to trap them, but we'd need your daughter's co-operation for that. We can lure him in but without her testimony it's almost impossible to make any charges stick. Do you think she'd work with us?"

"I don't know," said a disheartened Tom. "The school advised us not to confront her. They said to let the psychologist work with her so I'm not even sure how I'd approach her." He thought for a second. "Maybe I can talk to the therapist...see what she says."

"I'm sorry," the detective said with true empathy. "Like I said, I have kids of my own and I can't imagine the pain you're going through. Here's my card," he said, handing it to Tom, "if you get anything more, let me know."

He walked Tom out the way they came in. "Again, I'm sorry I can't do more right now but these guys always make mistakes. We'll get him," he said, trying to give the distraught father a parting word of encouragement.

To say Tom was discouraged as he left the police station is an understatement. In his own mind he was now positive the school was right. He needed to find a way to stop this guy but he had no idea how.

The following day was his first couples counseling session with his ex. He had already decided he was not going to share Lana's text messages with her. He just didn't trust her anymore, and besides, he sure didn't want her to know he was spying on their daughter.

Ever since talking to the detective his mind had been going two-forty, trying to come up with a plan to get Lana's abuser, but kept coming up with nothing. After a very troubled night's sleep he was up early and had breakfast at a Denny's before meeting Angela for their first therapy session.

The doctor they had agreed on was Dr. Theo Raddick, a prematurely gray haired man in his early fifties with a baritone voice. After the introductions the doctor asked them to be seated and offered them something to drink. When it appeared everyone was settled the doctor began.

"Ms. Hayden, during my phone interview with Mr. Hayden he told me you were divorced from each other but still had some anger issues. You both feel these issues are hurting your daughter and you'd like to resolve them if possible. Is that your take on the situation as well?"

"Yes, doctor," answered Angela.

"So neither of you are looking for a reconciliation through therapy?"

"No, no," Tom said, rather emphatically. "She's already got a new boyfriend. They're getting married in a few months. There's no way we're ever getting back together."

Even though Angela knew he was right, she didn't feel he had to sound so happy about it.

Tom went on. "No, it just seems like we can't stop fighting. It was like that the last two years of our marriage and it's never stopped...even now."

"I see," said the doctor. "And why do you think that is? What is it that you fight about?"

"Doc, if I knew that we wouldn't be here," he snapped, but with a smile.

Doctor Raddick turned toward Angela. "How about you, Ms. Hayden, any ideas as to why you're always fighting?"

"Well, the fact that he doesn't think much of me might have something to do with it," she said.

That surprised Tom. He turned to face her. "What do mean I don't think much you?"

"You don't. You think I'm incompetent."

"When have I EVER said you were incompetent?" he asked, emphasizing the word ever.

"Ms. Hayden, obviously you've just revealed something you never expressed before. Why do you feel your ex-husband thinks you're incompetent?"

She now gave the doctor her full attention. "He has a photography studio in Chicago. A few years ago his assistant quit and he had to hire another one. I asked him to hire me. Huh, you should have heard how insulting he was."

Tom remembered the situation back then and remembered Angela wanted him to hire her but he didn't remember being insulting. She'd never even mentioned it before that moment. "Angela, we needed your income. We couldn't afford you quitting you job."

"Really? How much do you pay Cayla?"

"Ah, five hundred a week."

"Right, a lousy twenty five dollars a week less than I make. If I had quit my job, instead of paying her you'd be paying me. It's a wash, except for twenty-five dollars."

He had never even stopped to think about it. She was right—but there were other concerns. "You're right; the money would be a wash."

Angela got a smug look on her face but it was quickly to fade.

Tom continued, "But tell me, who takes care of Lana when my assistant and I have to go out on a two or three day shoot or work until midnight to meet a deadline?"

That brought her up short. "If those were your concerns why didn't you say that before?"

"Hell, we've never even discussed this before. Why didn't you ask me why I wouldn't hire you at the time?"

"Because you were so dismissive about it; in fact you were downright derisive. You didn't even consider me—not for a second. I was hurt. Remember how we used to go out taking pictures before we were married? You'd give me one of your cameras and teach me how to adjust the little thingy inside so the exposure would be right. That was so much fun for me. When you said you needed another assistant I could just see us going out on shoots and working together."

She opened her purse and took out a tissue to wipe her nose. "I'm proud of what you do. I'm proud of your work. Every time I go by that billboard on the Kennedy I smile and think, 'my ex-husband shot that ad.' I wanted to be a part of it, Tom, that's all."

He thought back. If he was honest with himself he had to admit she was right. If he had given it any consideration at all maybe they could have worked something out. "I'm sorry. I wish you would have said something. I...I mean—everyone in my business hires a photography major from one of the local colleges. Almost everybody in the business starts like that...I started out like that. It's the way things are done. I guess I just never thought about doing it any other way."

Angela's emotions were catching up with her. By now she was wiping tears from her eyes. "Someday Cayla will open her own studio and take half of your clients, then you'll wish you had hired me," she joked with a sniffle.

Tom smiled and looked at the doctor. "She's right," he said. "It's how ninety percent of the photographers in my business get their start." He faced his ex again. "Is that what's been sticking in your craw all this time?"

"It's one of the things," she responded.

Tom thought he already knew another. "I know you were angry about the number of hours I was putting in but..."

"Tom, it had nothing to do with the hours. I understood that you had to put in the hours and that you were doing it for us, Lana and me. I know that. It was the way you treated me. All the time we were going together and even for the first few years we were married, you not only loved me but you respected me. You're a smart man, Tom, and I think in the beginning you thought that I was smart too. You used to talk to me as an equal, you used to ask for my advice, my opinion meant something to you; but somewhere down the line I lost that respect. I don't know how I lost it but I did. When you blew me off about working for you so nonchalantly... I...I guess it was just the straw that broke camel's back...and our marriage."

Tom thought about what she said. "So all that time—all the snide remarks, all the fights...it was because you thought I'd lost respect for you?"

"Pretty much," she said while slowly nodding her head. "That and the fact that I wasn't sure if you were cheating on me or not."

Tom almost fell off his chair. "Cheating! I NEVER cheated on you...not once. I never even thought of cheating on you. What did I ever do to make you think I was cheating on you?"

"I just told you, you lost respect. Think about it, Tom. It's not the lack of love that leads people to cheat on their spouses, it's the lack of respect. You can cheat on someone you still love but you can't cheat on someone you respect. Isn't that right, doctor?" she asked looking in his direction.

"Yes," he confirmed. "That's very true."

"Cayla's a very pretty girl," she continued. "How do I know what you do with her. Sometimes you two would be at the studio till one or two in the morning. You went down to Peoria for three days together."

Tom sighed. "We went down there on a job; you know that. We had separate motel rooms. I can prove it. I paid for them with my American express corporate card."

"That doesn't mean you two didn't spend the night in the same room," she replied. "Am I just supposed to take your word for it?"

Now he was starting to get angry and his voice went up about three decibels. "Fine, as long as we're talking about cheating, how about you and Dayton. Am I just supposed to take your word about that?"

Angela's face was turning bright red and the volume of the discussion was increasing dramatically. "I told you..."

"Alright, alright," Dr. Raddick broke in. "Why don't we end right here, today."

Both Tom and Angela looked at the clock on his desk and were surprised the hour was up already.

"I want to thank you both for being so forthcoming. So many couples come and sit like a stone but I think you're off to a good start. You've both gotten some things off your chests that have been bothering you for a long time. I've made some notes and there're a few things I want you to discuss next week. Also, you both obviously have suspicions of infidelity. We will also explore those but for now, let's call it a day."

They all stood and shook hands. Tom and Angela said goodbye to each other before getting in their cars and driving off in different directions. It was Angela's weekend with Lana so Tom headed for the studio. There really wasn't much to do there but when he was troubled, the studio was more of a sanctuary than his apartment. He always felt safe and secure surrounded by the profession he loved.

He put on a pot of coffee and sat back in his leather office chair. He couldn't get over some of the things his ex brought up during their therapy session. He kept going over them in his mind, trying to remember what was going on at the time.

Suddenly he had an epiphany; at some point while building his business, the studio became more important than his wife. Again and again he went over things in his mind. At the time he wasn't even aware of it but looking back now, he could see the slow progression of his priorities shifting. For the first time since all the trouble started, he had to face the fact that he played a role in his wife's change in attitude; for the first time he felt guilt.

Why the hell couldn't he see that before divorcing her? If she had only talked to me, he thought. Maybe we could have worked things out. Maybe we'd still be happily married. A year ago he just wanted to get rid of her. Now, for the first time since the divorce, he was feeling the loss of his wife. He hadn't shed a single tear up till that point but as he thought back to the woman he married, his eyes welled up with regret.

There was nothing he could do now but suck it up and go on with his life. He would continue to be the best father he could and if he ever did find someone to love again, he would make damn sure she would not suffer the same fate as Angela.

The next two or three weeks were going to be busy. In addition to his other work, his largest client wanted to collaborate on three new magazine ads. That meant hours going over different concepts with the ad exec, searching for inspiration and creating three different story boards, building sets, selecting models and putting together a team of wardrobe, hair, and make-up artists.

Tom smiled as he thought back to a conversation he'd had with Cayla when she first started working there. She had no idea and was astonished with all the time, work, and preparation that went into creating a single advertising photograph.

By the time Thursday evening rolled around Tom was exhausted. It looked like another fourteen hour day, the third one in a row. He was sketching a set diagram when he heard a text coming in on his daughter's clone. He looked at the time. It was almost eleven o'clock, awful late for a text from one of her friends. He picked it up to see what it said.

Unknown caller: I'm sure I don't have to remind you about Friday again. When U R in the car with your mom tell her you want to stay home Saturday instead of going to your grandparents. That will give us some quality time together.

Tom read it but couldn't believe it. He didn't like Dayton but he didn't really believe he was Lana's abuser. He said most of that stuff to get a rise out of his ex.

It was a minute or so before Lana wrote back.

Lana: What am I supposed to say? What excuse do I give her for not wanting to go to grandma's?

Unknown caller: I don't care what you tell her. Just make sure you stay home.

By the time the last text was sent, Tom had locked up the studio and was on his way. He made the thirty-five minute trip in twenty minutes. The lights were still on when he pulled into the driveway. He sat in the car for a moment and took a series of deep breaths, trying to calm down. He didn't really want to spend the rest of his life in prison for killing the bastard—even if he did deserve it. When he thought he was ready he went up and knocked on the door. Angela opened it with a surprised look.

"Tom."

"Hi, Angie. Can I come in?"

"Well, we were just getting ready for bed. It's late..."

"I know. I won't keep you. I just have to talk to Dayton for a minute."

"Dayton?" Now she was more surprised than ever. In the past he had always refused to talk to Dayton at all. Now he shows up at eleven-thirty and wants to talk? "Tom, what's this all about?"

"Angela, this is important. Please let me in."

"Ah, yeah, I guess. Come on in," she said, opening the door and stepping aside.

Dayton was in the kitchen when he heard Tom's voice and apprehensively stepped just inside the living room where they could see each other. Something was up, he could feel it. Cautiously, he spoke.

"Tom, what's going on? It's pretty late for a social call."

Tom had no doubt as to the identity of his daughter's abuser but he had an idea. If it worked it would be the final nail in Dayton's coffin. "Excuse me for one second," he said as he reached for his burner phone.

Both Dayton and Angela watched as he hit the speed dial.

"Tom, what is this all abo..."

He cut her off in midsentence by raising his index finger, silently asking for one second.

A moment later they all heard a phone ring. Angela's phone was plugged into the charger in the bedroom. The ringing sounded like it was coming from the hall so it definitely wasn't hers. Lana was upstairs in bed and always had her phone close at hand so it wasn't hers.

Dayton knew his personal phone was in his pocket. His burner phone was in his jacket in the hall closet but the only person he talked to on that was Lana--unless... He was suddenly struck with fear as he looked into the knowing face of Lana's father.

"Why don't you answer that, Dayton," Tom sneered.

Angela saw the expression on the two men's faces. Her fiancé looked scared. She knew something was terribly wrong but hadn't a clue as to what it could be. "What's going on? Dayton...?" Her voice trembled with concern.

"Here," said Tom, handing her the phone with the text messages, "read it yourself."

Dayton looked at Tom as he put it together. He remembered what Lana said about having trouble with her cell phone. "You cloned her phone," he mumbled.

"That's right you piece of shit, and now I've got you."

Dayton tried to think of something to say, anything to get him out of his mess but it was hopeless; he'd been caught.

Suddenly both men heard a tremendous wail as Angela read the text and now knew her betrothed was responsible for her daughter's suffering. She felt as if someone had punched in the stomach. As her legs collapsed from under her she fell against the wall and slipped down to the floor, screaming in hysterics, "No, it can't be, it can't be."

Tom wanted to go to her aid but Dayton saw his chance and turned to make a break through the kitchen and out the back door.

Angela would have to wait. Tom wasn't about to let the asshole get away and took off after him. Quickly, he closed the gap between them and jumped, wrapping his arm around Dayton's neck and dragging him down like a lion on a gazelle, but on the way down, Dayton grabbed for a kitchen chair. As the two men tumbled to the floor the chair came crashing down and caught Tom just above the eye. It stunned him enough that Dayton was able to kick himself free and again dashed for the door.

He had just reached the bottom step of the back deck when Tom leaped from the landing. This time Tom landed with force as they fell to the grass. Tom was on his feet first and landed a hard right uppercut before Dayton could get his feet fully under him. Still trying to escape, Dayton scrambled for the back gate but a swift kick to the ribs sent him sprawling to the dirt. Tom leaned over his prone body, lifted his head with a handful of hair, and hit him two more times for good measure.