by Leigh Duncan
Amanda sucked in a sharp breath. Kids—even well-supervised kids—got hurt. They did not accuse their parents of harming them. Her heart hammering, she waited to hear what else Sarah had to say.
“In compliance with the laws governing suspected child abuse or neglect, Dr. Scarletta immediately called DCF. I informed Mr. Goodwin that we were taking his daughter into protective custody pending an investigation and your ruling, Your Honor.”
Loathing filled Dobson’s eyes. “Seriously, Counselor? You hit your child?”
“No, Your Honor.” Mitch sprang to his feet. “Karen was supposed to return Hailey at five. Instead, she had her attorney deliver my daughter home early. I had dinner almost ready, but I thought it might be good for Hailey to get outside for a while, so we went to the park. She…she climbed up on the monkey bars. I was right there beneath her when she fell. I caught her, barely. But she must have wrenched her arm or something ’cause…” He shook his head. His breath came in heaving sighs “Her shoulder popped and she screamed.”
“Liar,” muttered Karen.
Amanda fought a gasp and hushed her client as she exhaled.
“Did anyone see this accident, Mr. Goodwin?” asked Judge Dobson.
“I tried to explain all this to Ms. Magarity.” Frustration laced Mitch’s voice. “Hailey had been playing with two of her friends. Their mother, Lydia Crane, had stopped by to pick up her girls. A couple of boys were playing basketball not far from where we were. I asked one of them to call an ambulance.”
Judge Dobson let his gaze drift purposely through the room. “None of them are here with you now.”
“No, Your Honor. Until Ms. Magarity showed up at the hospital, I had no idea I’d have to defend myself tonight.”
Dobson folded his hands across an ample stomach. “Yet you expect me to return this injured child into your custody? I don’t think so.” He stared openly at the man before him. “Mr. Goodwin, how’d you get that bruise on your cheek?”
Determined to keep her distance from the man who was wrong for her in so many ways she was beginning to lose count, Amanda had purposefully avoided looking directly at Mitch. The judge’s words demanded she do exactly that. Now, staring at the fresh welt, one she was certain hadn’t been there earlier in the day, she felt her heart sicken.
Mitch rubbed his reddened cheek. “She didn’t mean to, but—” his head sank until his chin nearly touched his chest “—Hailey kicked me.”
Amanda shuddered as she envisioned the little girl kicking Mitch in the face and the angry father yanking his child off the monkey bars. She let her gaze sweep over the room and saw reactions to the same image reflected in the other faces. Beside her, Karen flung herself back into her chair, her arms crossed, satisfaction glowing in her eyes.
At his desk, Judge Dobson glanced at the computer he’d booted up upon his arrival.
“We’re already on the calendar for mid-November,” he noted. He turned toward the social worker. “Ms. Magarity, can you look into Mr. Goodwin’s claims and complete your investigation in the next three months?”
Sarah looked up from the clipboard where she’d been jotting notes. “Yes, sir. I’m pretty sure we can.”
Dobson nodded. “In that case, I’m placing the minor child, Hailey Goodwin, with her mother, Karen Goodwin, until the November hearing. If you can prove your case at that time, Mr. Goodwin, we’ll revisit the custody issue.”
Mitch stumbled back a step as if he’d been dealt a physical blow. “But, Your Honor, I—I didn’t hurt my child. I would never…”
On the cusp of losing his daughter, he sent a fevered glance around the room. When he searched her face, sympathy stirred within Amanda at the plea for help she saw etched on his chiseled features. She fought the feeling with a quick reminder that, at the very least, Mitch had failed to adequately watch over his child.
Pain and betrayal flickered in the dark eyes he tore from hers, but the lawyer seemed to pull himself together. His shoulders straightened and he drew himself to his full height.
“What about visitation, Your Honor?” he asked. “By your own words, there’s never been a case in the state of Florida where a parent’s rights have been completely denied.”
“You make a valid point.” Dobson took his own survey of the room. “Visitation will be granted as long as it is convenient to the custodial parent. And supervised.”
“You can’t be serious,” Mitch scoffed. “I’m not allowed to be alone with my own daughter?”
“That’s exactly what I mean, Mr. Goodwin. And since I’m unwilling to add to the heavy load family services already carries, we’ll need an officer of the court to ensure your daughter’s safety. Ms. Markette, let’s have you supervise all meetings between Hailey and her father. That all right with you, Counselor?”
Amanda’s Mona Lisa smile failed her and she felt her lips part. As the person ultimately responsible for Hailey’s safety, she’d be forced to spend hours each week in Mitch’s company. One look at Judge Dobson’s stern expression and she knew there was no point in arguing. For Hailey’s sake, for her client’s sake, she had no choice.
“Yes, Your Honor,” she said. But, for the first time since she’d walked away from the arena, Amanda wondered if she should have stuck to barrel racing.
Chapter Five
Studiously avoiding so much as a glance in his direction, Amanda braced for another explosive protest from Mitch. When the only sound was the thunder of her own blood rushing in her ears, she risked a quick peek. The district attorney’s dark-haired superstar slumped in his chair, defeat showing in every line on his weary face.
Amanda sharpened her gaze.
Was this some ploy to gain the judge’s sympathy? Or hers?
She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out his game plan as a memory of Mitch as a dogged teen surfaced. At Camp Bridle Catch, he’d drawn calf roping for the summer-ending mini rodeo all the parents were invited to attend. At first, he’d been lucky if his rope went anywhere near the practice post. But he’d kept at it, breaking from the chute and throwing his lariat over and over. Long after the other campers and counselors had given up in disgust, he’d succeeded. She’d been so proud of him.
Now, eyeing him, she dealt with a host of emotions, but pride wasn’t one of them. Mitch stood accused of neglecting his daughter. Or worse. No one would cut him a break until he proved his innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt. And neither would she.
But the man personified stubborn. He’d never agree to let her supervise his visits with his daughter unless… Unless he thought he could somehow maneuver around her.
If so, he was in for a big surprise. He wasn’t the only one who had changed in their years apart.
A nudge at her elbow interrupted Amanda’s attempts to anticipate Mitch’s next step. As much as she wanted to brush it off, she couldn’t ignore the frantic tugging on her sleeve that followed. She aimed a questioning look toward her client.
“The money,” Karen mouthed.
Amanda glanced at the briefcase propped open on Judge Dobson’s dark mahogany desk. From the way he shuffled papers, it was clear the man thought they’d covered enough ground for one night. Disabusing him of the notion might earn her a stiff reprimand and a position on his bad side, something she’d managed to avoid so far.
An insistent hiss accompanied another tug on her sleeve. “What about the money? How am I supposed to take care of Hailey if I have to work?”
She sighed. Karen’s daughter deserved the kind of attention Amanda’s own parents had never lavished on her. It was up to her to make that happen, no matter what the cost. She cleared her throat. “Your Honor?”
Dobson glanced up from a neat stack of papers. “Yes?”
“I know it’s late and we’d all rather head for home than tackle another thorny issue, but…”
“Get on with it, Ms. Markette.” Dobson’s face settled into rigid lines.
“Your Honor, this unexpected change in custody has caught my client unp
repared. We need to consider finances, as Ms. Goodwin’s salary from Bella Designs covers little more than her bare necessities. I’d like to request the court to order Mr. Goodwin to provide reasonable child support.”
Dobson swung his heavy head toward Karen. “Are you telling me that, without help, you can’t afford to take care of your daughter?”
At Amanda’s side, Karen stiffened. She met the judge’s doubtful look head-on.
“Not unless you expect me to quit my job and apply for food stamps, and that’s something I’d rather not do. Hailey attends the area’s best preschool. An expensive one. Plus, she’ll need before- and after-school care.”
Amanda blinked back her surprise when Judge Dobson nodded in agreement.
“Very well, then.” He gazed toward the man still slumped in his chair. “Mr. Goodwin, you’ll continue paying tuition for the minor child. I’m assuming she attends day care now?”
Mitch barely lifted his head. “No, Your Honor. My housekeeper, Esmeralda Santos, watches Hailey from the time she gets off the bus until I get home from work.”
Dobson pursed his lips. “Well, then, we’ll have to make other arrangements. Ms. Magarity, can you give me a ballpark figure on day care these days?”
From the corner where she’d taken a seat, Sarah’s quiet voice sliced through the air. “Anywhere from five hundred to a thousand a week.”
“That’s insane.” Mitch’s eyes widened. He looked around the room as if seeking support. No one lifted a finger. “I can’t afford those costs. Not on a public servant’s salary. I’d have to fire Esme. She depends on that income to support her own family.”
“If you have a better solution, Counselor, we’re all ears.” Dobson’s dry commentary made finding an alternative sound doubtful. “I think we all agree that it’s not in anyone’s interests for Ms. Goodwin to lose her job.”
Mitch turned an imploring look toward Karen. “I don’t suppose you’d let our daughter come home after school? Esme could watch her until you get off work and take Hailey to your apartment.”
Sarah Magarity intervened. “DCF won’t approve that plan. There’s too great a risk that Mr. Goodwin would spend unsupervised time with his daughter.”
“Well, Counselor. You’ve heard DCF’s position. Any other ideas?”
Mitch ran a hand through his hair. Talking to himself, he mumbled, “I’d have to check with her, see if she’d do it. If the only alternative is to find a new job, I’m sure she’d agree. After all, she loves Hailey.” Lifting his head, he scanned every face before zeroing in on Karen’s. “So, what if I continued paying Esme’s salary but she reported to work for you instead? Hailey would still have a familiar figure in her life, and it’d resolve your child care problems.”
Amanda watched Karen smile and nod before Judge Dobson polled the room.
When no one raised an objection, he lifted the stack of papers from his desk and settled them into his briefcase. “It sounds as though we have a workable plan. All right then. Mr. Goodwin, I’m ordering you to pay child support in the amount of one hundred dollars per week. In addition, you’ll continue paying your daughter’s tuition at her current preschool, as well as Ms. Santos’s salary.”
Dobson closed his briefcase. “I need to stress, however, that this is only a temporary arrangement. We’ll revisit the support issue when we determine permanent custody of Hailey Goodwin in November.” Latches snapped shut. “I’ll want to see everyone’s financial statements in my office by the time I return from North Carolina.” He flipped over a page on his desk calendar. “That will be in mid-October. Make it the fifteenth.” He honed in on Mitch. “In the meantime, you’re to have no unsupervised contact with your daughter.”
Mitch bolted for the door the second the judge dismissed them with a rap of his gavel. Amanda and her client followed, their heels sending small echoes through the empty courthouse while Karen spoke on her cell phone. She snapped it closed as they reached the exit.
“You can take me home,” she said.
“Not the hospital?” If Hailey were her little girl, Amanda would want to be at her bedside.
“I just spoke to the nurse. Hailey’s sleeping. Because of the anesthesia, they don’t expect her to wake before morning, so I might as well get some rest, too.” Karen brushed a hand through her hair. “It’s a good thing Bella’s is closed on Mondays. I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a bear.”
“It won’t be a picnic, that’s for sure.” Amanda pressed her lips together. In the long run, having Hailey move in with Karen was the best thing for mother and daughter, but the next few days meant big adjustments for both of them. Karen would need to be at the top of her game.
On their way to her apartment, Amanda sought the answer to a question that had been troubling her. “You don’t mind having Esmeralda at your place?”
Karen ran her fingers down the pinched crease of her slacks before answering, her voice nonchalant. “Oh, Esme and I go way back. When Hailey was a baby, she doted on the child. I wasn’t at all surprised to hear she still works for Mitch.”
Amanda had intended to use his parade of nannies and housekeepers as one of the arguments in her bid for sole custody of Hailey. Apparently, it had no validity. “I wish I’d known that earlier,” she muttered under her breath.
A straightforward custody case. That’s what she’d expected when she’d agreed to represent Karen. But nothing was turning out the way she’d planned.
Dropping her client off at the curb, she headed back the way she’d come. Mitch wasn’t allowed within ten feet of his daughter. And it appeared that Karen needed her beauty sleep. That left only her to be at Hailey’s bedside when the four-year-old woke scared and confused in the morning.
* * *
A FOUL ODOR FILLED Mitch’s nose before he made it halfway up the sidewalk. The smell sent a sharp kick of fear straight to his gut.
Wasn’t losing his daughter enough? Would he lose his house, too?
Fighting the pain of one more sucker punch in a night filled with them, he wrenched open the front door. No blaring smoke detectors. No flames. Both good signs. Without stopping to turn on the lights, he shoved something heavy out of his path, dropped his keys onto the entry table and raced for the kitchen. He slapped at the wall switch. Light blazed into the room. Dark wisps drifted lazily from the pan he’d left simmering on the stove hours earlier.
He flinched away from the too-hot handle. Grabbed a pot holder. Snatched the saucepan from the burner. Carted it to the sink. Clouds of noxious steam rose as water from the tap splattered against brown goo.
Mitch gave the pan a few minutes to cool before poking experimentally at the blackened crust. He frowned at baked-on crud that would require more elbow grease than he could muster. After draining the pan, he dropped it into a trash bag, which he hustled outside. As the bag thunked to the bottom of the garbage bin he shook his head, refusing to question a legal system that could destroy the stable, secure life he’d built with his daughter as easily as he’d tossed out a burned pot.
On his way back into the house he nearly stumbled over Hailey’s suitcase. Mitch’s throat tightened, but he knelt beside the colorful tote, determined to make sure his daughter had enough clean clothes for a—please, Lord—short visit. He flipped the latches. Inside the suitcase, Mrs. Giggles lay on top of a jumble of clothes and shoes.
The howl he’d managed to suppress until now escaped.
He lost track of time while pain and disillusionment shot through him. Finally, he rocked back on his heels, struggling for control.
“Hailey,” he breathed. He had to concentrate on Hailey.
He couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him. If they did, he knew they’d destroy the few things he had left in his life—his career, his health. Things he’d need when the court realized its mistake and sent his daughter home. He pushed his feelings back, stuffing them into an imaginary box.
Before he slammed the lid, he tossed his feelings for Amanda into the
box, too. Sure, she was his ex-wife’s lawyer, but they had a history. They’d once loved each other. For a brief second or two, he’d thought they might again. Because of that, he’d expected her to at least give him the benefit of the doubt. But she hadn’t. Her betrayal added to his pain.
Steeling himself, he dumped Hailey’s clothes in the washer, threw open the windows to air out the house and headed into the kitchen to scrub splatters from the stove. From there, a natural progression led him to clean the counters and floors while he worked his way through the logistics of proving he wasn’t the kind of monster who would hurt his child. A million ideas buzzed through his head while he scrubbed and mopped. By the time the first set of headlights glowed briefly through the living room window as a neighbor headed into town, he’d come up with a plan.
First, he would enlist Lydia’s help in finding the boys who’d been at the park. The woman knew everyone from the toddler down the street to the octogenarian who’d sold the former grazing pastures to developers. She’d point him in the right direction. Once he found the boys, he’d prove Judge Dobson and that woman from DCF wrong. And finally, he’d bring Hailey home.
While dawn crept over the horizon, he showered and laid out his clothes for the day. One glimpse of the dark shadow along his jaw and he opted to forgo a shave. Straightening his tie, he considered requesting a delay in the court date against a small-time drug pusher. In the end, he decided not to. The best thing—for him, and for Hailey—was to maintain as much of their everyday lives as possible. That meant going to work even when his heart wasn’t in it.
At Lydia’s house, the smell of fresh coffee and warm syrup drifted through the screen door, a reminder that he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since lunch the day before. His mouth watered and he rubbed his stomach. Food would have to wait. He was a man on a mission, and that mission was to bring his daughter home.
“Lydia?” he called into the shadowy recesses of the kitchen.
