The Child Comes First (5 page)

“And I'll have someone out to fix the roof and the ceiling in your bedroom as soon as possible,” he assured her.

“I know you will, Simon. But you need a woman by your side. Don't overlook any of the ones you might come across.”

To Jayda's amusement, Mrs. Johanson patted her strapping son on the cheek. The scene was downright adorable. As they headed back to the car, Jayda realized she'd witnessed something very personal. It made Simon seem more human, and far less frightening.

 

W
HEN THE UNIFORMED MATRON
brought Tiffany into the holding room at the courthouse for her bail hearing, Jayda wanted to cry. The little girl came forward with her wrists bound together by a nylon handcuff strip.

“Why is she restrained?” Simon demanded, enunciating the words with fierce control. “The written procedures clearly state that you consider safety and flight risk before binding kids. What were you thinking?”

“She was already cuffed when I came along to escort her here,” retorted the guard, unintimidated by Simon's anger and unmoved by the age or diminutive size of the girl in her care.

“Take them off her this instant,” he said in a low, simmering tone.

Jayda slid her gaze over to Mrs. Johanson. The woman looked steadily at Tiffany, her eyes full of emotion. As the cuffs were cut from the child's wrists, Simon's mom turned away and put one hand to her mouth as if trying to regain control. When she turned back, she had a warm smile in place and exuded that positive attitude that had made Jayda's first meeting with her so pleasant. Even though she might be faking it, Jayda admired the effort.

Mrs. Johanson wasted no time getting to introductions. “Tiffany, I'm Barbara Johanson. I'm hoping to be your new foster mother.” She held out her hand to shake—a daring move, given that most foster kids would be angry, resentful or terrified at a first meeting.

But Tiffany rose to the occasion, as Jayda had hoped she would. She solemnly accepted the woman's friendly hand. “Thank you,” she said. They were such simple words, but they expressed so much. Most important, they revealed the kind of person Tiffany was inside, despite the occasional tantrum or sulk.

“You're very welcome,” said Mrs. Johanson. Her straightforward acceptance of Tiffany's gratitude was the perfect reaction. The two stood for a few seconds, hands clasped together, taking each other in and creating a silent bond. Jayda had worked hard to make connections with all the children with whom she worked, but Simon's mom seemed able to succeed without any effort at all.

“You can call me Barbara. I think you're old enough for that, don't you?”

“I'm eleven and a half.” Tiffany offered this information as if to say her maturity most certainly could not be in question.

Barbara glanced up at Jayda and her eyes seemed to indicate, “So young!” Then she turned her attention back to the girl. “We brought you some of your own clothes to wear during the hearing. Would you like to change?”

Jayda watched them dig into the gym bag containing a pink sweater and denim skirt she'd picked out for this occasion.

“I don't like this outfit,” Tiffany said. “I'll look like a baby,” she insisted.

“It's all we have,” Barbara said calmly.

In one swift movement, Tiffany swept the gym bag onto the floor so that it hit the wall and the contents spilled out.

“Tiffany,” Jayda cried. It wasn't the first time the girl's anger had gotten the best of her, and it wouldn't be the last. But why now, Jayda bemoaned silently. Why couldn't she hold it in just a little longer, so Barbara could have a good impression of her—at least until after the bail hearing.

“Those clothes are worse than these prison scrubs!” she yelled. Barbara stood there, stunned, as Tiffany kicked the bag a few feet to one side.

“Stop it at once,” Jayda began, as she reached to restrain her. But Simon stepped in.

“Let me talk to her,” he said. Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to Tiffany and gestured for her to join him in a corner of the room, apart from the two women. He hunkered down so he could look into Tiffany's eyes as he spoke, his expensive suit hugging his thighs as he did so. Jayda couldn't hear what he said, but Tiffany seemed appeased, and she picked up the gym bag and went into the restroom with it.

“She'll change into what you brought for her,” he explained.

“What did you say to her?”

“I told her that it might be in her interest to look younger in front of the judge. She's nothing if not logical. Give her a good reason for something and she'll go along with it.”

“Funny, I know someone else who's just the same way,” said Barbara, eyeing her son with amusement.

He nodded. “If she didn't show some anger now and then or act out a little, I'd be worried about her holding in too much.” He put his hand on his mother's shoulder. “I'm confident you'll work her past those difficult moments, just as you did with me.”

Barbara nodded. “I'm a lot older now than I was, Simon. I'll need your help, just as you promised.”

“I'll help. And so will Jayda.”

Jayda caught Simon's gaze. His inclusion of her in his immediate future made her want to back away before he captivated her completely. He was a handsome, powerful, passionate man. Being near him made her quiver with fear—unless it was some other emotion entirely.

 

“T
HERE'S A LOT OF TIME TO
reflect in a courtroom,” Simon whispered to Tiffany as they waited their turn before the judge. “It can get pretty boring. And then suddenly you're on and you have to give your words a lot of energy. It's kind of a crazy way to make a living.” They'd been sitting for an hour, listening to the drone of other hearings. The schedule had long since been abandoned, as frequently happened, even though they'd been required to be in the courtroom at the appointed time. “At least you get out of juvie for a while, and have something different to do.” He nudged Tiffany with his elbow as he said this and she smiled up from the seat beside his. “Maybe we can arrange it so you don't have to go back.”

“I hope so,” she agreed. She seemed relaxed, confident. He knew she expected him to make good things happen for her. He only hoped that he could.

“Be careful you don't raise her expectations too high,” Jayda said from his other side.

He could feel her tension and wondered, did she always expect to have her hopes dashed or did she simply lack confidence in him as an attorney? He wasn't sure which answer he preferred. Simon supposed he didn't need Jayda's confidence. He had enough of that on his own. And he'd hate to find out her desires were unmet so frequently that she dared not harbor any. Jayda Kavanagh ought to have her dreams fulfilled, just to balance out all the good she did for the kids she worked with.

“In re Tiffany Thompson,” called the clerk of the court.

“Here,” said Simon in return, approaching the judge's bench beyond the railing. Tiffany and Jayda followed him, as they'd been instructed to do. “Your honor, Simon Montgomery, representing. Jayda Kavanagh, guardian ad litem,” he added.

“Bail has already been denied, counselor. Why are we rehashing this?” asked the judge.

“Bail was not seriously pursued by previous counsel because the child had no foster home to go to at that time. A suitable foster home has now been found, approved by Juvenile Services.” Simon did his best to hold the gaze of the judge, hoping to force the man to focus on this particular case among a long line of cases. “It's in the best interest of the child and the public that she be released into the care of a qualified adult. It would also help relieve overcrowding at the juvenile facility.”

The judge nodded and turned his disinterested gaze to the other table. “Does the State have a position?” the judge asked the representative from the Maryland prosecutor's office.

“The State objects, Your Honor. The defendant is on trial for second-degree murder. She has a history of violence and may commit additional felonies if not under the supervision and control of Juvenile Services at all times. She's also a flight risk.”

Simon looked at the youthful attorney making these excessive statements, and had to work hard to keep the shock out of his expression. He'd been calling the prosecutor's office ever since he'd scheduled this hearing. But he hadn't been able to get through to anyone familiar with the case. Earlier today, when he'd attempted to come to an agreement with this green lawyer, he'd gotten nothing but a grunt in return.

The judge looked toward him again, expectantly. “Your Honor,” he said. “The defendant is eleven years old and has nowhere to go. She is not a flight risk. Moreover, no history of violence has ever been proven in court, nor is there any indication of felonies, past, present or future, committed by this child.” He indicated Tiffany by looking down at her, standing demurely at his side. She looked as small and helpless as he'd hoped she would. The judge looked at her, too, just as Simon knew he would. “She'll be safe and well-cared-for in the foster home, and the foster parent is fully capable of keeping her under control.” He knew firsthand how resourceful the woman in question could be at keeping a spirited child under control.

The judge dropped his gaze to the folder in front of him. He scanned a computer screen. “Is Mrs. Johanson present today?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Simon turned and gestured for his mother to stand up. She did so, looking proud and confident and holding her chin at a determined angle.

“Mrs. Johanson, you're aware of the charges against the defendant?”

“I am,” she said.

“And you're willing to take the defendant into your home?”

Simon rejoiced at the skillful way his mother pretended she didn't know him at all, just as he'd coached her. And he couldn't have been happier at the way she looked toward Tiffany with effusive fondness. “I'd be glad to do so,” she said.

The judge nodded. “Because of the seriousness of the case, bail is set at two hundred fifty thousand.”

While this would seem impossible for a youthful defendant without any family, Simon had already decided to front the ten percent required to make bail for her. He'd get it back when she appeared in court, anyway, and it wouldn't be missed from his sizable bank account.

“And the defendant will wear an electronic monitor at all times,” concluded the judge.

Simon's heart sank. Electronic ankle monitors were extremely inconvenient. His mother couldn't and wouldn't leave Tiffany home alone, and now she'd need permission every time they wanted to go anywhere together. And the monitoring agent wouldn't give them permission, except for court-related trips and for health purposes. It would mean he'd have to play an even greater role in Tiffany's care than he'd expected. Otherwise, his mother might begin to feel like a prisoner, too.

“Your Honor, I ask that you reconsider the monitor. This child is not a flight risk and—”

“I've made my decision, counselor. We're done here,” the judge said, banging his gavel down conclusively.

As he sat down to put all their documents back into a folder, Simon glanced toward Jayda and saw that she understood the negative implications of this ruling. That was a good thing, because now he'd really need her help. His career and lifestyle could not be put completely on hold in order to babysit Tiffany Thompson. Jayda had talked him into taking on this case, so she'd have to step up to the plate and do her part, too. Yet even as he thought about foisting a large portion of the responsibility for Tiffany off on the social worker, a surprising thing happened.

Tiffany spontaneously stood and put her arms around his neck, giving him a big, warm hug. Simon didn't know what he should do, and he found himself awkwardly patting the girl on the shoulder, noticing that she smelled like Ivory soap, which reminded him of his own childhood. He hoped she'd step back quickly. Instead, she whispered, “Thank you for getting me out of juvie, Mr. Montgomery.” Then she let go and turned toward her new foster mother.

Simon sat there, assaulted by emotions he refused to name. His gaze lifted to Jayda's eyes once more. She stood by, looking down at him with what appeared to be wholehearted approval mixed with a measure of sympathy. He felt understood, in a way he hadn't experienced before. And this was so disturbing that he got to his feet too fast, nearly toppling his chair.

They were crawling into his heart, he could feel it—Jayda and Tiffany were invading his life. He
had
to resist. His mentor and senior partner Glen Boyden had all but told Simon he should marry Glen's niece, or someone just like her. Someone like Megan, perhaps. Simon had worked hard to encourage the impression that he would do whatever it took to advance his career—even marry the right woman in order to enhance his image. Becoming partner had been his goal for so long, he'd forgotten there could be anything more important, despite his mother's repeated efforts to correct his thinking. He wouldn't let normal, ordinary Jayda or the kid with the hugs get in the way of that now.