Dark Eye by William Bernhardt

realistic. You did not get sick. You were committed to a detox clinic. Because you are an alcoholic.”
    “That’s bullshit.”
    “That’s the position of the state, at any rate. And NDHS is not going to allow an alcoholic to retain sole custody or guardianship of a minor without a fight.”
    “NDHS needs to mind its own business.”
    “This
is
its business.”
    Jerk. Of course, like any good cop, I’d been trained to despise lawyers, so having to go to one for help was excruciating. I’d used this guy, Quentin Delacourt, a few times after David died, for wills and estates stuff that I never really understood. But he didn’t know me. And I didn’t much care for having him make these blanket proclamations about who and what I was.
    “I’m not going to sit here defending myself to my own attorney,” I said. “Will you take the case or not?”
    “That depends on what you mean.”
    “I mean getting my niece back.”
    “Are you sure that’s what you want?” He leaned back in his burgundy leather chair, adopting what he undoubtedly thought was a deep, contemplative pose. “There’s no rush. Maybe you should give yourself some time.”
    “I gave myself a week. Look what happened.”
    “Give yourself a month. Just to relax. No stress, no work. And no alcohol, of course. Give your body a chance to recover. I don’t think you’ve taken any time to get your head together since-”
    “I’m not wealthy, Mr. Delacourt. I don’t have the luxury of indulging myself in some spiritual walkabout. I want my niece back-now. I want you to file a motion or whatever it takes to get her yanked out of that hideous foster home.”
    He opened a file on his desk and thumbed through it. “From what I can see, the Shepherds’ home is far from hideous. Apparently they have taken in many minors from-um-difficult situations.”
    “Rachel was perfectly happy with me. And she hates it where she is.”
    “That’s to be expected, at least at first.”
    “So will you bring the motion or not? I want a hearing.”
    He gave me the contemplative look again, this time even steepling his fingers for added effect. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, then I’m honor-bound to get it for you. But I can’t say that I’m optimistic about your chances. NDHS wouldn’t have intervened unless they thought they had due cause. They’ve really papered this file.”
    He was starting to piss me off, big time. “How much mileage can they get out of one stupid mistake?”
    “It goes way beyond that.” He continued thumbing through the file, not making eye contact with me. “You’re currently unemployed.”
    “I’m going to fix that.”
    “I won’t lie to you, Susan. As long as you’re unemployed, there’s no way you’re going to get custody.”
    “I told you, I’m going to fix that.”
    “Rachel’s grades have been falling for the past year.”
    “It’s hard losing a father figure. For the second time. Hasn’t been a real picnic for me, either.”
    “Her school counselor says she’s been depressed.”
    “I think that’s somewhat understandable, given the circumstances.”
    “NDHS says you often leave her alone at night, while you’re ostensibly working.”
    “Ostensibly? What is that supposed to mean?”
    He closed the file. “One has to wonder, given the frequency…”
    I stood up. “What are you implying?”
    “Have you been drinking around Rachel?”
    “I never drink at home.”
    “I ask again, have you been drinking around Rachel?”
    “Absolutely not. Look, I screwed up once. I wasn’t drinking that often.”
    “If you make that claim at the hearing, NDHS will bring out your blood work and prove you a liar.”
    “What the hell do they know about it?” I screamed. And immediately felt embarrassed. I was proving myself just as unstable as NDHS said I was. Playing into their hands. “Let those sons of bitches lose a husband! Let’s see how well they handle it.”
    “We all know you’ve had some