The Child Comes First (17 page)

It surprised Jayda that her mother would ask that question. “Do you want me to?” A deep longing trembled in her heart and at the same time she inwardly recoiled.

“Sure. If you feel like it. I could make you banana bread.” This was one of the few things Margaret had found time to make from scratch during her daughter's youth. She'd used overripe bananas that had cost only a few pennies.

“Okay.” Jayda hated banana bread and she associated it with Wayne's unctuous presence, but she wasn't about to decline the peace offering. “I'd like to come see you again sometime,” she said more decisively, despite her inner turmoil. “It doesn't have to be a long visit and we don't have to talk about the past, if you don't want to.”

“Are you going to call first?” Margaret said, gulping her drink. “Because just dropping in like this is a little too much excitement for a woman my age.”

Jayda smiled. “I promise I'll call first.” She reached for her purse and withdrew her phone. “What's your number?”

 

S
IMON DIDN'T HIT HIS STRIDE
as quickly as usual when hammering through cross-examination. He suspected this was because of Jayda's absence from the defense table. He missed her. But in the end, his instincts took over and he found the balance he needed to create doubt in the minds of the jurors.

“Dr. Westin, you testified earlier that Derek died of blunt-force trauma. Isn't it equally possible that he suffered from shaken baby syndrome?”

“He was hardly a baby,” the witness said.

“I have a study here from the
Boston Medical Journal
that explains that shaken baby syndrome can be found in toddlers as well as infants. So you agree that this is possible.” He said it like a statement rather than a question.

“Objection,” called Bob McGuire from the prosecution's table. “The witness hasn't yet given his opinion on this syndrome.”

Judge Becker turned his impassive gaze to the witness. “What is your opinion regarding shaken baby syndrome and the death of the victim under discussion?”

“Well, as I said, the trauma to the brain was extensive, and my best assessment is that blunt force from a blow caused the damage.”

“But could there have been other causes?” Simon persisted.

“Of course,” Westin said with exasperation. “He could have fallen on his head or something heavy could have fallen on him. But that's not…”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Simon interrupted. “Are you familiar with any of these medical texts?” He picked up a stack of books and articles from the defense table, wincing at the sight of Tiffany sitting there alone. Barbara was right behind her on the opposite side of the rail, but Tiffany looked so small and almost frail without Jayda right there to support her. He brought the reference books to the witness box and presented them to the doctor. “Can you read the titles for the jury?”

“Indications of Child Abuse. The Abused Child. Shaken Baby: Symptoms and treatments.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” called out the prosecutor. “This has nothing to do with the testimony this witness gave on direct.”

“To the contrary, Your Honor,” Simon rebutted. “The government presented this witness as an expert regarding cause of death. I intend to ensure the jury knows the full extent—and limitations—of Dr. Westin's expertise.”

The judge waved his hand loosely. “Go ahead.”

“Please read the rest of the titles, Doctor,” Simon urged. Westin read the remaining titles, all medical texts related in one way or another to child abuse. When he finished, Simon asked again if he was familiar with them.

“I don't have time to read every book or article related to my field.” Westin shifted in his seat and a sheen of sweat began to glisten on his forehead.

“Of course not,” Simon said cordially. “But you're here today to establish cause of death in a child under four years old. Surely you considered the possibility of child abuse and specifically shaken baby syndrome. You have professional knowledge of how it can culminate in death quite some time after the shaking incident and that it takes adult strength to cause that kind of damage. You're aware that…”

“He's putting words in the doctor's mouth,” objected McGuire.

“I'll rephrase,” offered Simon before the judge had a chance to rule on this latest objection. While he knew he would be allowed a great deal of leeway on cross-examination, he was also satisfied that he'd shown the jury what he'd wanted them to see. Time to move on to the most important thing he wanted to accomplish with this medical expert. “Dr. Westin, have you ever heard of Dr. Samuel Greenbaum?”

Westin blinked a few times, then said, “Of course. He's retired now, but he was the state's medical examiner for years.”

“And if he had a different opinion about what caused Derek's brain injuries and death?”

“Well…” Westin clearly wished he didn't have to respond. But after a moment, he admitted, “Dr. Greenbaum is a well-respected expert. I feel sure he'll agree…”

“Thank you, Dr. Westin,” Simon interjected. “That's all I have.” He moved toward his seat next to Tiffany.

“Redirect?” asked Judge Becker.

Bob McGuire stood, but didn't move from behind his table. “Dr. Westin, please clarify for the jury…What caused Derek Baldridge's death?”

“Blunt-force trauma, which caused a hemorrhage in the brain.”

“Thank you,” McGuire said, and returned to his seat.

Simon was still standing. He turned when Judge Becker asked if he had any re-cross questions. “Could Derek have been the victim of shaken baby syndrome?” he asked Westin.

“Well, I…That is…”

“It's a yes or no question, and one that Dr. Greenbaum had no trouble answering after he'd seen the autopsy test results.”

This seemed to deflate Westin, and the man quietly said, “Yes, there could have been an element of shaken baby syndrome involved.”

“Thank you,” Simon said, then he sat down beside his client, drawing the jurors' attention to her slight and almost fragile physique once more. Thank goodness they hadn't seen her playing Nerf football with him in the family room the night before with her robust tumbling and tackling and fearless leaps over furniture to make catches. Nor had they witnessed her temper, for which he'd need to set up some anger-management classes. He needed the jury to see her as the innocent young child she appeared to be today.

Judge Becker excused Dr. Westin from the witness chair, then turned to McGuire. “Was that your last witness?”

“Yes, Your Honor. The prosecution rests.”

“Very well. We'll adjourn for the day and Mr. Montgomery can begin with defense witnesses in the morning.” He banged his gavel, rose from his seat and disappeared through a door behind the bench before the bailiff had the chance to herd the jury from the room.

Tiffany bestowed her usual hug and thanked Simon for his efforts on her behalf. He'd become used to this ritual and even expected it. But now for the first time, as he received the girl's love and patted her shoulder in return, he realized there was another benefit to Tiffany's embraces beyond the good they did for his soul. A straggling juror noticed them together and her expression turned soft, as if she was moved by the bond between them. Even in his most ambitious days, Simon wouldn't have thought of using Tiffany's hugs to sway the jury. But the fact that one of them had seen the moment by chance filled him with lawyerly satisfaction. He didn't care what it took to convince the jury that Tiffany was incapable of killing someone, as long as he got her acquitted.

“That seemed to go well, but I wish Jayda hadn't missed it,” his mother said as she joined them near the defense table.

“She had something important to take care of,” he said. He hadn't had time to explain his phone conversation with Marla to his mother, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

“More important than me.” Other kids would have said it like a question, disbelieving. Tiffany said it as a statement, as if it was accepted fact.

Simon put his hand on her small shoulder. “There's nothing and no one more important than you, Tif. Don't ever forget that.” He could only hope Jayda would return soon and confirm that.

As he drove Tiffany and his mother out to the suburbs they both slept away some of their exhaustion, leaving him with time to think. Underlying his mental review of what he would do and say in court the following day, there was a burning desire to see Jayda, to touch her, to reassure himself that all was not lost. Her absence was distracting him.

Reluctantly, he admitted Marla had been right not to tell him where she'd gone, because he might not have been able to keep himself from trying to find her. He wanted desperately to prove that Jayda had nothing to fear from him, that he was nothing like her uncle. The longing, the need, the helplessness—these were foreign and frightening. But then, without conscious effort, that mind of his tripped over the beginnings of a plan, a way to help Jayda see she could trust him. His heavy heart lightened. And he smiled.

“S
IMON
,” G
LEN
B
OYDEN BEGAN
,
leaning back in the leather chair behind his huge mahogany desk. “I've treated you like a son, and for the most part you've been everything I could have hoped for.”

Simon sensed the “but” that was about to be delivered, but he said nothing.

“You're slipping and I need to know why.” The older man looked at him intently through his wire-rimmed glasses.

Simon hesitated, not relishing the reaction this man inevitably would have to his particular situation. But he owed Boyden an explanation. “I'm in the process of adopting a child,” he said without preamble. “But before we can live happily ever after, I have to get her acquitted of murder charges—I need to stay focused on that. I realize I'm not giving the firm what's expected of me.”

Boyden stared, momentarily stunned into speechlessness. “Are you talking about the girl you're defending pro bono? You've got to be kidding. You're not a family man, Simon. At least not yet. And not without the right woman at your side.”

It was painful for Simon to realize this was everyone's impression of him. No one who'd heard about his plans had believed him at first. After his secretary, Denise, had taken a call from the adoption caseworker about him, she'd gone so far as to make an appointment for him with his doctor, but he'd assured her he was quite healthy and certain of what he wanted for his future. And a completely different future it was turning out to be, compared to the one he'd previously envisioned.

“Apparently, I am,” he said to his boss. Taking mercy on the man, Simon leaned forward and offered the concession he'd worked out when he'd first realized he'd have to part ways with Boyden and Whitby, LLC. “I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. Being unemployed won't look so great on the adoption application, but I can see it's time to go. I'll accept half my contractual severance pay if you'll continue to support Tiffany Thompson's case straight through any appeals she may require.”

“You're quitting? But you've been our biggest rainmaker.” Boyden seemed to have forgotten that he'd been about to fire him. Which Simon knew from the secretarial gossip he'd become privy to through Denise. No one was better informed about the plans of the partners than the all-powerful secretaries.

“I think it's time I struck out on my own. Renauld and I don't get along well, and I can't see the two of us making a go of working together after you retire. Time for me to make my own way in the world. But I need your assurance that Tiffany will continue to have the support of the firm until her case is concluded.”

“We can't very well abandon a pro bono case, especially not one as visible to the media as hers,” he admitted. Simon had been counting on this. “I assume you have a contract to that effect already drawn up.”

“Of course,” Simon agreed. He rose from his chair and leaned across Boyden's desk to shake the man's hand. “Thank you for the education I've gotten here. I hope we'll work together again someday.”

Boyden clasped his hand in both of his and his eyes misted over. “I think you're making a terrible mistake, Simon,” he said. “But I wish you the best.”

Simon left Boyden's office, endured Renaud's self-satisfied smirk from across the secretarial area without comment and went to his own office to begin packing. Denise followed him in and closed the door.

“You're really leaving?” she asked, her dismay evident.

“Looks that way. I'm not the rainmaker anymore. Not sure I want to be, now that I have other responsibilities.” Or at least he hoped he'd have other responsibilities. He knew his bid to adopt Tiffany would be an uphill battle, but he had to go on believing he'd succeed.

“Take me with you,” Denise said.

He looked at her, stunned. “You're kidding, right? I couldn't pay you anything close to what you're making here.”

“But you're the best boss I've ever had. Exacting and pompous at times, but I've always liked you, anyway. And that woman you've become involved with—Jayda? She's changed you for the better. You're a kinder cutthroat-lawyer now.” She smiled. He stared at her, wondering about her belief that he was involved with Jayda, that it was Jayda who had changed him. Could she be right? He'd been asking himself about his feelings for Jayda for some time, and he couldn't seem to nail down the answer.

She added, “I'd rather work for you and be happy than stay here. Besides, you'll be wildly successful on your own and end up paying me exactly what I'm worth to you soon enough.”

He laughed. “You mean your weight in gold every day of the year?”

“More or less,” she said sweetly.

Rounding his desk and approaching her, Simon did something he never would have seen himself doing before Jayda and Tiffany had come along. He hugged his longsuffering secretary. She hugged him back, too, patting him maternally on the shoulder.

“I'd be honored to have you come work for me, Denise. But let's not give your notice here until I've got myself established. Too many start-up costs in the first few months, and I don't want you to suffer.”

“I like that plan,” she said, and with a nod she headed out again. Before she disappeared, however, she turned and said, “By the way…”

“Uh-huh?” Simon was only half paying attention. He'd already began stowing his personal possessions in boxes and he couldn't quite figure out why he didn't feel worse about his time at the firm coming to this abrupt end.

“Craig Dremmel is planning on sticking with you when you leave here.”

Simon looked up, startled. Dremmel was one of the most lucrative clients he'd brought to the firm. “I can't take him with me, Denise. He's the firm's client, not mine.” But wouldn't it be nice if he could, he thought.

“Well, he's already in the process of severing ties with the firm. He heard from Renauld Canter about your imminent departure, and he told me he made his decision on the spot. But mum's the word. He doesn't want to tip his hand too soon.”

“Why?” Simon asked. “Why would Craig Dremmel do that?” The high-powered land developer would do far better being defended by a large firm with all the clout it could bring to the legal system, and Dremmel knew that. It made no sense for him to take a chance on Simon's smaller as-yet-to-be-established law firm.

“You just don't see yourself the way others do, Simon. People believe in you and they trust you. It's true you're a hard-nosed attorney who'll do almost anything to win, but you're also a good person who wants the best for his clients, and those are the traits people want in their lawyer. Dremmel didn't get to be as wealthy as he is without noticing such things about other people.”

Bemused, Simon could only say, “huh,” to let her know he'd heard the words. It would be awhile longer before he'd completely understand them and be happy about this unexpected good fortune.

 

J
AYDA ENTERED THE COURTROOM
on Wednesday as nervous as a kid on the first day of school. She expected a cool reception from the Montgomerys and Tiffany after the scene she'd made the last time they'd seen one another, and she feared they might even snub her completely. She wouldn't blame them. But the thought made her stomach hurt, anyway.

“Jayda!” Tiffany cried the instant she saw her. The girl flew through the short swinging gate in the rail and launched herself into Jayda's arms. “I missed you,” she said as she held on tight.

“I missed you, too,” Jayda said, meaning it more than she'd ever be able to express. During her drive home from her mother's place, she had tried to come to terms with the fact that Tiffany would be gone from her life soon. The trial would end and either the child would go to prison or she'd be released into an orphanage or foster care. Or maybe somehow Simon would surprise everyone and persuade Social Services to let him adopt her. No matter what happened, however, Jayda wouldn't be seeing Tiffany on a daily basis anymore. She found herself burying her nose in the crook between Tif's shoulder and neck and breathing in the little-girl scent of her. She would miss this child so much. And the same went for Simon and his mother.

“We're so glad you're back,” Barbara said from beside her. Jayda lifted her face to look at the woman. Tiffany released her from the hug, but kept a hand firmly clasped in one of Jayda's hands.

“I'm glad to be back. I'm sorry I wasn't here the past two days.” She had no idea how she should explain her absence to these people, who really didn't need to be burdened with her childhood story.

“Simon said you had to take care of something important,” Tiffany said. “Did you do that?”

Jayda scooched down so she could look Tiffany in the eyes. “It was very important, and I did do what I needed to do, but the only reason I wasn't here with you was because I was sure you were in good hands with Simon and Barbara. How did things go?”

“Simon was great!” Tiffany said. “He tore down Mr. McGuire's medical witness and then he presented that nice Dr. Greenbaum, who said Derek's injuries indicated trauma from shaking that took place days before he actually died. That's what we hoped he'd say, right?”

“Right,” Jayda said as she straightened up, then she looked to Simon's mother for confirmation.

“Things seem to be going as well as Simon could hope with the trial,” she said. But Jayda could tell that something else was weighing on her mind in regard to her son.

“I'm sorry I wasn't here,” she said again.

Barbara waved a dismissive hand. “You can't be in two places at once. I decided maybe you were trying to figure out some things related to Saturday morning at my house.”

Leave it to Barbara to be so direct. No proverbial six-hundred-pound gorillas would be left unmentioned by this woman. Jayda liked that about her. “Yes, that's what I was doing,” she admitted. “I apologize for how I behaved that day.”

Barbara moved in for a quick hug of her own, saying, “We understand and we still love you.”

Instantly tears threatened and Jayda struggled to blink them back. Barbara was already returning to her seat in the spectator's area by the time Jayda regained self-control. Tiffany, too, made her way toward the defense table. Standing there, Jayda let Barbara's words envelop her. This was hard to do after years of dismissing the possibility that anyone could care about such a damaged human being. But after spending much of the previous day with her therapist, Jayda knew she had to let the kindness of people such as Tiffany and Barbara help her heal. Already, she could feel the old open wound beginning to close. But she had one other person to face.

He came through the door behind the judge's bench with his serious, focused lawyer's expression on his handsome face. The determined set of his jaw made him look older, a force to be reckoned with. The prosecutor came out after him and his face was grim. But Jayda gave him only a split second of her attention because Simon was striding toward the table where Tiffany sat. When he focused on the girl, he smiled broadly, warmly, lovingly. The sight of this child transformed him back into the man whose image Jayda had imprinted in her mind—and on her heart.

Tiffany said something to Simon that Jayda couldn't hear from where she stood. But Simon sobered and looked in her direction. His gaze met hers. Jayda read more emotions in his eyes than she was able to identify. She'd expected a man such as Simon would tame his feelings and keep them hidden. But he wasn't making any effort to hide the mixture of tenderness and sorrow inside him. Once again she had to blink away the sting of tears, even as she wondered how he could look at her with anything other than anger and resentment after what she'd done.

Somehow, she found the strength to move forward, through the swinging gate and over to her seat at the defense table. Simon stood still, watching her.

“We're glad you're back,” he said softly.

All she could do was nod. She felt she'd been forgiven, and she hadn't expected that. Yet she couldn't help noticing that he'd said “we're glad” rather than “I'm glad.” Understandable that he'd distance himself with words, even if he couldn't hide his feelings completely. She'd hurt him in such a fundamental way that he was right to protect himself from her as best he could.

Getting back to business, Simon motioned toward the door from which he had just emerged. “I persuaded the judge to let us call Patricia Baldridge as a witness, even though she wasn't on the list we gave the court before trial started. McGuire isn't happy about it. He wants time to talk to her first. I'll be there when he does, but he might still be able to confuse her.”

“Did you meet with her?” Jayda managed to ask, grateful for court-related things to address.

He sat down in his usual chair, with Tiffany between them. “Yes, and you were right that her story could help us. My theory is that Patricia's ex-husband managed to get Derek alone, probably out in the yard. God knows the kids weren't well supervised. Unbeknownst to anyone, the father tried to shake the whereabouts of Derek's mother out of the boy. Patricia told me her husband had been violent toward the child before. And she'd heard that he'd been looking for her. But I'm not sure we can trust what she'll say on the witness stand. I'll have to handle her carefully.”