The Child Comes First (6 page)

“A
ND HE WAS ALWAYS GOOD
at sports,” Barbara Johanson told Tiffany. “Carl and I encouraged him. We figured if he was busy, he wouldn't get into trouble.”

Simon stayed with the females as Tiffany waded through the long process for the monitoring device and Barbara entertained her with stories from Simon's childhood. There had been the garden snake he'd brought home as a pet, claiming it would grow into a boa constrictor. And he'd taken his bicycle apart entirely one day, to see how it worked, but then had been unable to put it back together without hours of help from his father.

“Okay, enough with the stories about little Simon,” he said as he passed out Quizno's sandwiches that he'd had to pick up for them. They weren't going to be allowed to stop for dinner on the way to Ellicott City, and they'd already missed lunch.

He'd canceled his afternoon appointments again to take care of these three women. If he kept this up, Tiffany would be his only remaining client after all the others had departed for more attentive counsel. But Jayda had cleared her calendar for the child defendant and Simon could do no less. Besides, he felt responsible for Tiffany ending up with the ankle monitor. If he'd tried harder to reach someone at the state attorney's office, perhaps he could have avoided this ordeal.

At last, an officer came to put the ankle bracelet on Tiffany. “It's tight,” she whispered, and there was an edge to her voice.

“You won't even notice it after a while,” Simon assured her.

“It's tight so you can't wiggle out of it.” The officer's name was Curtis, and he said it casually, but the comment rankled Simon. He could feel his anger rising again, just as it had when he'd seen Tiffany come into the courthouse in cuffs.

Jayda caught his eye and gave him silent encouragement, then turned to Tiffany. “Hey, I bet you can't guess what the nickname for this ankle bracelet is,” she said. “It's like one of the Muppets.”

Simon knew the answer, saw that Curtis did, as well, and gave the guy a warning glare to keep quiet. It was good of Jayda to banter like this with Tiffany while they waited for the monitoring people upstairs to do their tests and connect the new bracelet to the system.

“Um, Snuffelupagus,” Tiffany said right away. The gleam in her eyes told Simon she was teasing.

Poor Curtis looked perplexed for a moment, then grinned.

“Close,” Jayda said without missing a beat. “You want another try?”

Tiffany smiled and thought. “Cookie Monster,” she tried, clearly aware that this couldn't be right, either.

Jayda made a show of mock exasperation, then looked at Barbara. “You want to guess?”

“Oscar,” Simon's other tried. When Jayda and Simon shook their heads, she shrugged. “We give up. What's it called?”

“ELMO,” Curtis announced triumphantly. “Short for electronic monitoring device.”

“But, no one ever guesses that,” Jayda admitted. “I have to say I've never had anyone guess Snuffelupagus before, so that's a first for me.” She grinned at Tiffany. Simon was happy to see the child smile back, despite her obvious weariness.

“It's kind of a good name,” Jayda added. “Elmo is cute and sweet and looks out for others. So just think of this bracelet as your Elmo. It'll keep watch over you, so you can go home with Barbara.”

“Just don't go more than twenty feet outside of the house without permission first,” Officer Curtis warned.

“What about going to the store or out to the backyard?” Barbara asked. “Surely she can do those things?”

Curtis looked at her. “We'll set up a schedule that allows for visits to take care of court matters, but other than that she has to stay within about twenty feet of the house. Sorry. On the good side, if things go well, maybe you can get it taken off during the trial. Sometimes that happens, because by the time the trial starts it's usually obvious the offender won't run off.”

Tiffany's eyes had shadows beneath them, and her face had gradually paled as the day had worn on. Simon wanted to get the child home, even if the circumstances weren't ideal. “Let's get going. Jayda and I will follow you in my car and the monitoring people will follow us in their van.”

But all the way there, he worried that he was already feeling far too protective of his youngest client, now riding with his mother in the car just in front of him. He knew he should not think of Tiffany as innocent, and yet he did. He shouldn't perceive any of the things that were happening to her as unjust, but they felt that way to him. And he couldn't seem to shake the nagging sense that he'd let her down.

“Your mother is going to need help with Tiffany now that she can't take her out to stores and such,” Jayda said. “School isn't in session, so she won't get any break from taking care of her. And she can't leave Tiffany home alone.”

“I know that,” Simon nearly barked. Frustration closed in around him, prickly and cold. But he shouldn't take it out on Jayda. “Sorry, I just don't know how I'll get out to Ellicott City as often as Mom's going to want me to.”

“We could draw up a schedule. I'll take half the days, and you take the other half,” she offered.

“Thank you,” he said. But then he smacked the heel of his hand on the steering wheel, venting some pent-up emotions. “I should have known they'd go for the monitor and prevented it, somehow,” he said. He shifted in his seat under the weight of his failure.

He felt her palm skim over his right shoulder, lightly, briefly, comforting, consoling. Then it was gone. She said, “You couldn't have known. There was nothing you could have done. So now we just make the best of the situation we're in.”

Simon saw that her hand had returned to her lap, but he wished she'd touch him again. He'd taken off his suit jacket for the drive out to the suburbs, and the sensation of her touch—or maybe that subtle energy that belonged only to her—had felt good through the thin layer of his shirt.

With his peripheral vision he could see her straight, silky hair blowing in the breeze from the windows they'd elected to keep open. No scarf to keep her hair perfectly coifed, no complaint that the wind might spoil her makeup or dry out contact lenses worn solely to change the color of her eyes. She didn't wear cosmetics. If she wore contacts, they'd be to correct her vision, not to turn her irises a formidable shade of turquoise. Jayda was a natural woman, and at least among females his own age, that was completely new to him.

He pulled to the curb in front of his childhood home. They got out and went to the Honda in the driveway. Tiffany had fallen asleep in the backseat. Simon's mother looked as if she could use a nap, too.

Jayda opened the rear door next to Tiffany. “C'mon, sleepyhead. I'll show you straight to your bedroom. You can explore your new home tomorrow.” She led the girl inside.

Simon walked with his mother and tried to hide his irritation as the probation officer pulled a van up behind his Mustang. They were going to disrupt the entire household with their monitoring system.

“You're not usually so easily annoyed, Simon,” his mother said as they walked toward the side door.

He had to smile. “So I'm not doing a very good job hiding it this time—is that what you're saying?”

“Tiffany will be fine. And I'll be fine, too. You'll see. Don't worry about us. The house-arrest part is just a minor concern.”

He glanced back toward the men, who were taking equipment out of the van. That's when he realized that a couple of his mother's neighbors were looking out their windows to see what was going on. They'd certainly never seen this kind of thing on their street before. And electronic monitoring was more than a minor inconvenience. His mom was about to find that out the hard way. “The system uses your phone line to monitor Tiffany, so you won't be allowed to have any cordless phones. They're going to take them all. You'll get one land line and it can't be a mobile unit, just the plug-in kind.”

She frowned. “I'm not sure I have one of those,” she admitted.

“I'll get you one before I leave for home tonight. But there's more. You won't be allowed to use your phone for more than ten minutes at a time. You'll have to cancel caller ID and call waiting. Tiffany won't be able to be in the same room with you if you're on the phone, because her monitor will send a false alarm. She won't be able to go anywhere except to prearranged court-related things. No taking her to the grocery store, or out to Wal-Mart, or to the parks in Columbia. It's going to be annoying as hell.”

She patted his arm, then preceded him into the kitchen. “I'm sure we'll manage. We always do. And you have that nice woman, Jayda, to help this time. You could certainly do worse.”

That's true, was his first thought. But then he remembered that Jayda Kavanagh would in no way advance his career with his firm.

 

I
T WAS LATE BY THE TIME
Jayda left Ellicott City with Simon. He'd had to buy an acceptable phone from Wal-Mart and she'd stayed with Mrs. Johanson and Tiffany to make sure the monitoring team wasn't as surly as usual. Finally, they headed out in the Mustang, car windows rolled up against the evening drizzle.

“Tiffany really likes you,” she said.

“I like her, too.”

“Your mother is nice and she's great with kids.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, sounding distracted.

Deciding Simon must be as tired as she felt, Jayda lapsed into an awkward silence. She thought about everything she had to do tomorrow to make up for the time she'd spent with Tiffany. In case Marla asked, Jayda considered how she'd explain herself. She'd had to reschedule four appointments and she was going to need an excuse for doing that. Then, as they approached her apartment building, she thought about what she might eat so close to bedtime. That take-out sandwich had burned off hours ago. Her stomach growled just as Simon pulled alongside the curb.

He laughed. “Maybe I should take you to dinner before we call it a night.”

“No, that's okay. Thanks anyway. I have some leftovers I can reheat.”

His expression became wistful for a moment, and then blanked. Jayda wondered if a man like Simon Montgomery ever cooked at home—there weren't likely to be leftovers in his refrigerator. And then her heart began to race, and she'd spoken even before she thought about what she was going to say.

“Would you like to come up and eat with me before you head home? Nothing special, just some pasta and salad. But there's enough for both of us.”

The instant the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. If he came up to her apartment for food, what else would he expect? Men like Montgomery always got what they wanted, no matter what, and he might misunderstand her invitation. So how would she get rid of him without an argument—what if he became insistent? What if he turned out to be like her uncle, after all? Oh, God, this could lead to all sorts of terrible consequences, for herself and for Tiffany.

“Aren't you too tired to entertain a guest at this hour?” he asked, giving her a chance to back out gracefully.

But the look in his eyes told her he'd appreciate the company, even though it was late. “Well, just come in and eat, and then you can go. How long could that take?” There. She'd established boundaries. That was good. That was healthy. Even so, with her palms beginning to sweat, she wondered why she hadn't just taken the excuse he'd given her to rescind the invitation. How confusing to commit herself to doing something, when it also terrified her.

Maybe because Simon seemed like a good person, and because this gave her a perfect opportunity to face a few of her demons.

“Okay. Any suggestions on parking?”

They were lucky, and it only took a minute to find a spot. Then they headed on foot to Jayda's building. It felt odd walking together without speaking, heading into her home. But Jayda couldn't make idle conversation. She was consumed with worry…and determined. Before she could sort things out, they were entering her apartment on the third floor.

“This is really nice,” he said as he looked around. “Homey.”

Jayda had never entertained a man here before, preferring to go to her partner's place when she'd had boyfriends in the past. Simon's bulk made the space seem to shrink, and claustrophobia took hold of her for a moment as she led him through the narrow foyer. In the living room, she suggested he make himself comfortable while she got supper started in the kitchen. He asked if he could help, but she could tell that cooking wasn't his thing. The instant she declined the offer, he sat down on the overstuffed sofa with his arms stretched out on either side along the back.

“Holler if you change your mind. I follow directions well.” He smiled at her, a man at his ease.

She tried to emulate the casual mood, but her insides went skittish on her. In the kitchen, she dropped a metal salad bowl in the sink. The resounding clatter brought the man rushing into the narrow confines of the galley area.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yup, everything's fine,” she lied. “The bowl slipped. Wet fingers. Silly, really. It happens all the time. With this bowl, I mean. Slippery when wet.” Stop talking, she told herself. Not another word about the stupid bowl. Focus on putting the washed lettuce into the colander to drain. Now think about cutting up some celery and carrots.