* * *
SITTING IN A row of tiered seats at the back of a room in Orange County Superior Court, Edmond was only peripherally aware of the people around him in the gallery. When he’d entered, he’d recognized witnesses from the trial and some news reporters. The only person who mattered right now, however, was the middle-aged man in a robe seated behind the bench.
By now, the judge would have reviewed the presentencing reports and statements. Surely they mentioned that Barbara had no prior criminal record. Yet although Edmond wasn’t an expert on body language, to him the judge appeared stern.
After a few introductory remarks, His Honor addressed Barbara directly. “You have been convicted of participating in a robbery spree that endangered both the victims and other bystanders. It also resulted in your partner’s death.” Near Edmond, a woman nodded agreement. “Although your incarceration will deprive your daughter of her mother’s care, it’s only by luck that the shootout that killed Mr. Greeley didn’t also deprive other children of their parents, or parents of their children.”
Edmond’s fists tightened. While he couldn’t disagree with the judge, this boded ill for his sister.
Briefly, His Honor reviewed the counts on which she’d been convicted. Then he pronounced sentence: six years on each of the three counts of robbery, to be served concurrently.
Six years. While other members of the gallery murmured their approval, Edmond sat motionless, struggling to grasp the implications. Since the law required a felon to serve a minimum of eighty-five percent of the term, Barbara faced five years in prison even if she received a reduction for good behavior.
Edmond had understood there’d been a risk of a long sentence. Yet, emotionally, he’d hoped for a year followed by probation. His backup plan of moving in with Mort and Isabel simply wasn’t feasible for longer than a year.
“Six years may seem like an eternity, especially to a woman your age,” the judge continued. “However, this is not only a punishment. It’s also a chance to learn from the bad choices that brought you to this point and separated you from your daughter. I hope you’ll avail yourself of the educational opportunities in prison and determine to set a better example for your child in the future.”
He asked the court clerk to notify the Department of Children and Family Services to check on the daughter’s well-being. Edmond felt a wave of gratitude that he already had temporary guardianship and had also filled out the paperwork for permanent guardianship. While a social worker would still have to review Dawn’s situation, there was no reason for her to be removed to a foster home.
Dawn. Oh, Lord, how would she take this news?
“You are remanded to the Orange County Jail for transfer to the state Department of Corrections.” The judge’s severe expression softened. “I wish you luck, Miss Everhart. You still have a chance to make something of your life.”
He rose to leave the courtroom. At the defendant’s table, Barbara stood along with her attorney. In her orange jumpsuit, she looked small and helpless. Her light brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was thin and lank and still held traces of purple dye, a relic of another lifetime.
As the bailiff approached, Barbara turned until her gaze met Edmond’s. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Take care of Dawn,” she mouthed, and then the bailiff led her away.
“You have to pity her,” a woman nearby said to her companion.
“I pity her daughter, not her,” the other woman responded. “One of those bullets nearly hit my son.”
In the hall, Edmond caught up with the attorney. A man in his mid-forties, Joseph Noriega had a weary air. “I know it isn’t what you hoped for, but it’s fair,” he told Edmond.
“What about an appeal?” Edmond asked. “She has sixty days to file, doesn’t she?”
“I’ll talk to her,” Noriega said. “But I recommend against it.”
“Why?” If his sister might have her conviction overturned or her sentence reduced, that was worth pursuing.
“The evidence against her was overwhelming,” Noriega explained. “If the conviction is reversed, the district attorney will retry the case. He might aim for the jugular.”
“Prosecute her for Simon’s death?” To risk a murder conviction was inconceivable.
“That’s right.” The attorney shifted the position of his briefcase. “As for resentencing, the judge could set her terms to run consecutively instead of concurrently.” That would mean eighteen years, also unthinkable.
Nevertheless, Edmond wasn’t ready to give up their last glimmer of hope. “It’s my sister’s decision.”
Noriega cleared his throat. “Yes, it is. She doesn’t have to decide immediately, but I’ll need time to prepare an appeal.”
Edmond moved to the next subject on his mind. “Can I talk to her?”
“Not now. The courthouse isn’t set up for visits.”
“What about once she gets to jail?”
Noriega glanced at his watch. “I doubt you’ll be able to see her tonight, but I’ll try to arrange a phone call. She should be in state custody by tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” Edmond knew the man was doing his best. While Noriega might not be a high-flying celebrity defense attorney, he had a solid reputation.
Left alone in the wide corridor, Edmond gathered his thoughts. His father and stepmother would be anxiously waiting for news. Although Isabel had arranged for Dawn to spend the afternoon with friends, she’d be home in a few hours. A smart little girl, she must be aware of what was happening and worried about her mother.
The responsibility for her and for everything that lay ahead rested on Edmond’s shoulders. Barbara’s pleading expression in the courtroom remained seared into his heart. Because she was nine years younger, he’d always been protective of her and tried to compensate for their father’s absences and their mother’s withdrawal. So when Barbara cried, it had often been Edmond who went to soothe her. They’d become close, and even when his responsibilities chafed, he’d tried not to let her down.
She’d never been the eager student that he was. When she entered her teen years, she’d lagged academically just as Edmond became caught up in college and law school. Still, he’d commuted from home, and tried to supervise her homework.
In retrospect, he realized Barb’s relationship with their parents had worsened after he moved out and married Melissa, even though their dad had changed jobs to be closer to his family. Naïve and strong-willed, Barbara had been easy prey when she met Simon at the fast-food restaurant where she’d worked after school. Four years older and an ex-con who’d served a term for assault, he’d manipulated Barb into moving in with him. Despite Edmond’s protests, their dad had insisted he’d done all he could to rein her in and had refused to call the police. Their mom had pleaded with Edmond not to make waves, afraid Barbara would cut off contact entirely.
I shouldn’t have listened. She was underage and he was an ex-con.
But Edmond hadn’t fought his parents’ decision. As a result, his sister was headed for a long stretch in state prison.
He hoped Noriega could arrange that call tonight. Contact would be difficult after she left the county jail.
Although he didn’t often deal with criminal cases, he knew she’d be transferred to a prison reception center for an evaluation that could take weeks. Depending on such factors as the length of her sentence and how big a security risk she posed, she’d then be assigned to an appropriate facility. With luck, she’d serve her term at the women’s prison in Fontana, about an hour’s drive from Safe Harbor. Once she was transferred, he could arrange regular visits with Dawn.
In the interim, his sister faced a frightening adjustment away from her loved ones, in a strange and intimidating environment over which she had no control. She’d be locked up with gang members, drug users and other women far tougher than she was. Picturing h
ow terrified she must be, Edmond went cold.
From another courtroom, a group of people emerged, possibly jurors being released for the day. He stepped to the side.
But when he took out his phone, he couldn’t bring himself to press his parents’ number. He needed to figure out how to explain the situation and provide a reassurance he was far from feeling.
If he could just bounce his concerns off someone, someone he trusted with his most sensitive emotions. And only one person fit that description.
* * *
MELISSA NEARLY CALLED Edmond several times that afternoon. But much as she was worried about Barbara and Dawn, Edmond had more important matters to deal with. She’d wait and try him later this evening.
Also, concerned about the issues her doctor had raised this morning, she kept an eye on her supervisor’s office across the reception area. Jan had been with clients and staffers all afternoon.
Spotting her alone at last, Melissa went to confer with her. Crossing the outer office, she paused when the receptionist asked, “Any word from Edmond about his sister?”
“How do you know about that?” Melissa hadn’t discussed Barbara’s situation with the young woman, who was noted—or notorious—for tapping into the office grapevine. At times, Melissa suspected Caroline was the office grapevine.
“Someone must have mentioned it.” She ducked her head. “Honestly, I swore off gossip when the neighbors were jawing about my parents splitting up and I discovered how much it hurt. They’re together again, by the way.”
“I’m glad. And to answer your question, I haven’t heard anything from Edmond today.” Melissa edged toward her supervisor’s office. “I have to talk to Jan before she takes off again.”
“Okay.” Caroline spread her hands. “If there’s anything I can do, just say the word.”
“Thanks.” Hurrying away, Melissa tapped on the coordinator’s open door, glanced inside for permission and entered.
It didn’t take long to sketch the bed rest situation for Jan, which surely she’d expected. Small and intense, Jan Garcia Sargent moved from behind her desk to a chair beside Melissa’s.
“I’m delighted that you plan to continue working and consulting as long as possible.” After a busy day, Jan’s normally smooth dark hair tumbled breezily over her suit collar. “You’re an important member of this team. We’ll work around your confinement, if I may use such an old-fashioned word. Multiple pregnancies aren’t to be taken lightly.”
“I wonder if I bit off more than I can chew.” Melissa halted, embarrassed to have revealed that. “It’s just that I’m a single mom. There’s three of them and only one of me.”
“I was a single mother, too, although not to triplets,” Jan observed. “I only had Kimmie, but my life was a lot more messed up than yours when she was born. Not that yours is messed up.”
“I understand.” Melissa took no offense.
“This is a rough period, but it will pass.” Jan’s gaze strayed to a two-part frame on her desk. The faces of her nine-year-old daughter and ten-year-old stepdaughter, Berry, beamed out. “It’s worth the sacrifices.”
“Still, I feel like I pushed off down a ski slope without realizing how steep it is.” Enough about that. Melissa shifted to less personal matters. “I’m glad you understand about my work situation.”
“Karen and I can handle some of your duties,” Jan assured her. “And thank heaven for teleconferencing.”
“As long as clients don’t mind me being as big as a whale,” she said ruefully.
“That’s what most of them are hoping will happen to them,” Jan reminded her.
“I suppose so.” As she took her leave, Melissa felt better. She doubted many bosses—especially those who didn’t work in a fertility program—would be as supportive.
It was nearly five o’clock when she returned to her desk. Might as well close up for the day.
Her cell rang. Heart thumping, she glanced at the readout. Edmond.
“What happened?’ she asked without preamble.
“Six years.” His voice shook.
Six years? Barbara would be thirty when she was released. Melissa ached for her former sister-in-law and for Dawn. “Is she all right?”
“I imagine she’s in shock,” he said. “In retrospect, I should have been prepared for it, but this is hard for me to accept.”
His honesty meant a lot. In the past, he’d had a tendency to put up a brave front, even when she’d suspected he felt otherwise. “How did your parents take it?”
“I haven’t filled them in yet. I’m still at the courthouse.”
He’d called her first? This news must have jolted him to the core. And he’d reached out to her, of all people.
“It will be easier if I break the news face to face,” Edmond said. “We have a lot of decisions to make.”
Underneath the statement, Melissa detected a plea for help. Nurturing her friends and especially Edmond had always satisfied a profound need in her, and she couldn’t refuse him now.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Although her only contact with her in-laws since the divorce had been to exchange Christmas cards, she doubted they’d mind.
In spite of everything, she still felt a part of this family. They’d meant so much to her after she lost her own parents.
“Yes!” He sounded relieved. “I value your perspective and I think they would, too.”
“Do they still live in the same place? I could meet you there.”
“I’d rather we drove together so we can talk en route.” He named a restaurant where she could safely leave her car near the courthouse in Santa Ana, which lay about a third of the distance between Safe Harbor and Norwalk.
“I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
What did it mean that he’d called her first? Melissa mused as she locked her desk. Nothing, she told herself. In a crisis, people pulled together and set their differences aside.
She hurried out to her car.
Chapter Seven
Edmond’s new car—new since the divorce, anyway—was a black sedan that suited him, Melissa reflected as she slid into the cushiony passenger seat. High-tech and well engineered, it was sophisticated yet down-to-earth.
In the enclosed space, his light spicy aroma surrounded her. Inhaling it, she instinctively relaxed.
“Thanks for joining me.” Edmond waited while she adjusted the seat belt around herself before shifting into Drive. “My mind keeps running in circles. I hate things being so out of control.”
“I understand.” Melissa didn’t mention the red rim around his eyes. Had he been crying, or had he merely worn his contact lenses earlier? He rarely wore them, since they caused irritation.
Edmond eased the car up a ramp onto the freeway. With the traffic lighter than usual for a weekday rush hour, the navigation computer estimated their trip at twenty minutes.
“My parents fixed up a bedroom for Dawn,” he began. “She and Barbara have been staying with them, so she’s comfortable there.”
“Is that where she lived while she was in school?” Being spared a change of schools would be a plus if her grandparents pressed to keep her with them.
“No, my sister and Simon had an apartment, or rather, several. They moved a lot, probably because they were behind on the rent.” Then he added, “With Isabel and Mort, she has a real home, although it’s relatively new to her. It may not be wise to uproot her.”
“But you have guardianship,” Melissa reminded him.
“I have emergency temporary guardianship, but the court could transfer that to her grandparents, if it’s for the best.” Edmond spoke as if examining the possibilities from all angles.
His attitude disappointed Melissa. She’d observed at the wedd
ing how much Dawn trusted him. But then, he’d sacrificed their marriage rather than become a father.
Striving for a low-key approach, she said, “I’m sure her grandparents dote on her. Still, your dad was never the warm fuzzy type.”
“Isabel makes up for that.”
“In some respects.” A kindly divorcée with no children, Isabel had been a nurse’s aide who’d attended Edmond’s mother as she lay dying of cancer. Six months later, when Mort Everhart married her, Melissa had been happy for them both.
“We have to act fast,” Edmond continued, transitioning into the carpool lane. “I presume family services will be preparing a report and it’s best if we can show a stable living environment.”
“What kind of report will it be?” Melissa asked.
“A credit and criminal background check on all adults who’ll be supervising her, for starters.” In the open lane, he stepped harder on the gas. “The state has to ensure that prisoners’ children are safe.”
“Will there be a home visit?” In connection with her work, Melissa was familiar with procedures in adoption cases, where home studies were required.
“Probably, and they’ll interview any adults involved in her care.” Edmond grimaced. “When I laid out the procedures for clients, I never understood how intrusive it feels.”
Melissa’s thoughts turned to the little girl’s emotional reaction to her mother’s sentencing. “Did you and her therapist discuss how to explain about prison to Dawn?”
He slanted her a smile. “You ask the right questions. Yes, we did go over that. Also, the counselor, Franca Brightman, gave me a list of what children need when their parents are incarcerated.”
“What’s on the list?” Melissa had never before known a parent or child facing such a situation.
“What you’d expect, for the most part.” A freeway sign indicated they were entering Los Angeles County. “To receive full information about what’s happening and how it will affect them. To feel safe and be able to express their emotions openly. To understand that they can stay in touch with their parent.”
The Surprise Triplets Page 7
