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Their gazes clashed.
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Although reluctant, he did talk. There were no great revelations here; if he was to be believed, Tito was a funny, smart boy who sometimes acted younger than his age as well as looked it.
“Hasn’t reached puberty,” she diagnosed.
MacLachlan nodded. “Definitely not. No sign of beard growth or a change in his voice. He sure isn’t adding any muscle.”
“I suppose puberty is as hard for boys as it is for girls.”
“It can be.” There was that faint, rueful tone again, the one that made him unexpectedly likable. “Not for the guy who is shaving by the time he’s in eighth grade and has all the moves on the girls. He’s not the one hoping no one notices him when he sneaks in and out of the shower after gym, or the one who’s trailing the pack on cross-country runs. The one shorter than all the girls.”
She chuckled. “That sounds personal.”
“No. It was my youngest brother. I suspect his lagging maturity contributed to him getting in trouble.”
“Trying to prove himself.”
He inclined his head. “The same way Tito was.”
“Did you tell him about your brother?”
MacLachlan shook his head. “We’re men. Men don’t talk about our bodies or how deep our voices are.”
She had to laugh. “Unless you’re taunting each other.”
Another flash of a grin came and went so fast she almost missed it. “Yeah. Unless.”
She bent her head and, in self-defense, concentrated quite hard on her notes. “Is there anything else you’d like to add, Captain MacLachlan?”
“Duncan.”
She looked up in surprise. “What?”
“You can call me Duncan.”
“Oh.” The name did suit him, sounding as gruff as the man. “Duncan.”
“What’s the next step?” he asked.
“I interview teachers, any of his other siblings, any other adults. Scout leaders, Boys & Girls Club employees and the like.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think he’s involved in anything like that. My impression is, he’s been forced to be a loner. His sister is too busy to push him into activities that might change that.”
“Perhaps their priest…”
“She does drag him to church.”
“Of course I’ll be sitting down with his father. And, naturally, Tito himself.” She hesitated. Maybe she didn’t have to say this, but she felt compelled, anyway. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t discuss my visit with him. Or attempt to prejudice him in any way.”
“You mean, suggest he might be better living with someone besides his ex-con father.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
His face had returned to its earlier granite facade. “I think I can manage to keep my mouth shut, Ms. Brooks. Is the hearing date set?”
“Yes.” She told him when.
He nodded and rose to his feet. “If that’s all…?”
It was completely ridiculous to feel hurt because he was eager to get rid of her. Especially since she was relieved at the prospect of escape, too.
“Thank you for the coffee,” she said formally, although she’d scarcely taken a sip.
He didn’t bother with an insincere “You’re welcome.” All he did was walk her to the front door, say, “Ms. Brooks” and close the door firmly in her face.
Cheeks flushed again, this time with both humiliation and aggravation, Jane hurried to her car. Jerk, she thought, and refused to let herself remember those two astonishing grins.
WHEN SOMEONE HE DIDN’T KNOW wanted to talk to him like this, Tito knew it meant something bad was happening. After Mama went away and then Papa was arrested, lots of social workers came to talk to Tito and Lupe. Mostly they ignored Tito, though, even when they were supposedly asking him questions. He could tell that, in their eyes, he was only a little kid, so they didn’t care what he said.
This time it was because Papa would be getting out of that place soon. Tito knew his father thought Tito would be living with him. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Three years was a long time. He’d been so young the last time he lived with his father. He hated going down there, to the prison. Tito hadn’t admitted to Lupe how much he hated it. He always slumped in the chair and mumbled when Papa asked about school or friends or whether his sister was taking good care of him and feeding him enough. Tito could tell Papa thought she wasn’t, and that made him feel bad.
And now Lupe had taken him to the public library to meet with this Miss Brooks, who Lupe said had already come by the apartment to talk to her. Tito burned with resentment because Miss Brooks didn’t know anything but would be able to decide things about his life. It made him mad that she’d talked to his sister at least a week ago but not to him until now.
“Tito,” she said, when they went straight to the table in a quiet corner of the library where she had already been sitting. She gave him a big smile. He’d seen smiles like that before. He didn’t return it.
“Lupe, thank you,” she said. “Do you mind if I talk to Tito alone?”
This woman did speak Spanish, at least, he thought grudgingly. Lupe seemed to like her, but then she liked everyone except for that idioto, Raul, who lied every month and said he couldn’t find a job only so he didn’t have to pay child support. What kind of man did that make him? Not much of one. Tito worried that Lupe needed the money the state paid her to take care of him.
He sat down unhappily, across the table from the social worker woman, and his sister left them.
Miss Brooks said, “Tito, you can call me Jane. Would you rather speak in Spanish, or English?”
He shrugged and focused on the tabletop. Someone had written some bad words in ink. He rubbed a finger over them, and they smeared.
“Then let’s make it English,” she said, switching. “Since that’s what you have to speak at school.”
He shrugged again.
“You know your father will be released in two weeks.”
She waited and waited, until he finally mumbled, “Yes.”
She explained that the judge had asked her to talk to him and his family members and any adult friends—even his teachers—and recommend where she thought he should live.
“I know you’re used to living with your sister now,” she said, in a nice voice. “But she doesn’t have much room, and she works evenings. It would be better if you had someone who could spend more time with you.”
He did wish Lupe worked days instead. Tito didn’t like Señora Ruiz, the neighbor who came over evenings. She ignored him and mostly paid attention to the little kids.
“How do you feel about it?”
Tito looked up at last. “What do you care?”
Her eyes were soft. Kind. They were pretty, too, blue but not cold. More like a flower.
“I do care. I want what’s best for you, Tito. You don’t know me, and you have no reason to trust me, but you can. I promise. Te prometo.”
There was a lump in his throat. He struggled against it and finally nodded.
He still didn’t answer very many of her questions. He didn’t know if he wanted to live with his father! How could he know? And who else was there? Yes, he had a brother, Diego, but he was only twenty and worked the fields. He had dropped out of school early—not that much older than Tito was now. He never stayed in one place, and he didn’t have a wife. Tito saw him only every few months.
When Miss Brooks said, “I spoke to Duncan Mac-Lachlan,” Tito looked at her in alarm.
“He didn’t tell me.”
“I asked him not to.”
That tasted bad, like broccoli. He had trusted Duncan, who had caught him, el stupido, breaking into his house. What had Duncan said to her?
“He told me he wouldn’t betray any confidences.” She fumbled for another way to say that, but Tito understood and relaxed. He wished secretly that he could live with Duncan, but, of course, he wouldn’t want a boy like Tito. Why would he? Tito wondered all the time why he was being so nice.
“Do you like spending time with Duncan?”
Tito smeared the words on the table some more, but he also nodded.
“He did tell me how you met.”
Tito’s head shot up, but she was smiling.
“Don’t worry. It has nothing to do with where you live. I won’t tell anyone else.”
That lump was again in his throat. “Gracias. Thank you.”
Still smiling, she said, “Here’s my phone number, Tito. It’s a cell phone, so you can reach me day or evening. If there’s anything you want to say.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be speaking to your father next.” She asked him if there were other adults she should talk to, but he shrugged. He had friends, sí, but he didn’t even know their parents. Truthfully, he didn’t have many friends, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.
She signaled and Lupe came over to them. Tito hadn’t known that his sister had stayed. She looked so tired. He wondered if Papa could help her, once he got out. Would he be able to find work? If he couldn’t, how would he be able to take Tito?
What would Papa think of Duncan? Tito felt a heavy sensation in his chest at the idea of not being able to play basketball and soccer with Duncan anymore, but if he had to live with Papa and Papa said no…
“Was it all right?” Lupe asked him on the way home, and Tito only hunched down in the car seat and shrugged.
He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember what “all right” was.
TELEPHONE TO HIS EAR, Duncan rotated his big leather office chair so that he was gazing out the window at the sky. His office was on the second floor of the new redbrick jail and police station. Right next door, attached by a glassed-in walkway, was the matching courthouse.
On the fourth ring, a woman said, “Dance Dreams.”
Jane Brooks, of course. She had an intriguing voice. A little husky. Smoky. Sexy, damn it.
“Ms. Brooks. You’ve been dodging my calls.”
A couple of weeks had passed since she’d come to his house, and never another word from her. He’d left her four messages on her cell phone. They had been increasingly testy, he knew.
“Yes, I have, Captain MacLachlan. As I thought I’d made clear to you, I’m unable to discuss my recommendations until I make them to the court. I’d welcome new information. However, you didn’t sound as if you had any to offer.”
He restrained a growl. “Have you talked to the father?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss…”
He didn’t even try to restrain this growl. “Ms. Brooks, do you or do you not want what’s best for Tito?”
“That,” she retorted with a snap in her voice, “depends on whether we’re talking about what’s best for Tito as pronounced by you, Captain.”
“I’ve read the original police report on Hector Ortez’s crime.”
“As have I.”
That surprised him.
She continued, “The trial transcript, too. Have you read that, Captain MacLachlan?”
He hadn’t.
She waited politely. “No?” she said after a moment. “Since you’re so interested, you might want to do so.”
“I intend to.”
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have customers.”
He didn’t know whether it was more insulting to think that she was lying about the existence of those customers, or that she wasn’t.
Either way—she was gone. “Bullheaded woman,” he muttered, hanging up the phone.
Duncan didn’t like being bested by a pretty, feminine little thing who made her living selling, of all damn things, tutus.
Maybe not little, he conceded. She had the look of a dancer. Slender, small-breasted, graceful and long-legged, with the swanlike neck and unusually erect carriage he’d expect of one. In appearance, she was just plain feminine, with that mass of glossy hair the color of hand-rubbed maple wood, a sweet face and eyes of the darkest blue he’d ever seen.
All that, and the personality of a police dog on the job. Outwardly well behaved, sharp-eyed and ready, at the slightest excuse, to go for the throat.
He’d have expected as much if she’d been a defense attorney. But the proprietor of a dance shop?
Duncan might have been amused if he hadn’t been so pissed. She’d made up her mind, all right. He suspected she had from the beginning, whatever she said to the contrary. She had every intention of handing Tito back to his father, whose main virtue seemed to be a lack of any history of domestic violence calls. Never mind that he’d stabbed a man to death in the parking lot of a tavern at two in the morning.
From the ache in his jaw, Duncan could tell he was grinding his teeth again. Swearing aloud served to relax his jaw. Maybe he’d recommend the technique to his dentist for other patients.
The rest of him hadn’t relaxed one iota. He continued to brood when he should have been working.
At first sight, he’d had the passing thought that he might like to take Ms. Jane Brooks to bed. No more. He didn’t care what color her eyes were, or how much he’d liked her long-fingered, graceful hands. He didn’t object to social workers on principle, but he did object to idiots who believed in blood ties at the cost of common sense. He didn’t have to feel a whole hell of a lot to enjoy taking a woman to bed, but he drew the line at one he held in contempt.
He swiveled in his chair and pulled out his computer keyboard. If Jane Brooks had kept him in the loop, he might have shared his intentions with her. As it was, she might be surprised by some opposition.
In his present mood, he hoped she was.
CHAPTER THREE
“THANK YOU FOR YOUR recommendations, Ms. Brooks.” The Honorable Judge Edward Lehman peered at Jane over the top of his reading glasses. The judge had already greeted Hector Ortez, Lupe and the Department of Social & Health Services caseworker present in the small courtroom along with the recorder and bailiff.
Hector had been released a few days before. The decision had been made to hold this hearing immediately, before he had a chance to reestablish his relationship with his daughter and son on his own. Jane had had to hustle to finish all her interviews so quickly and put together a report for Lehman, but she was satisfied with the result if less than thrilled with any of Tito’s options. She’d tried very hard not to consider Captain MacLachlan’s outrage when she interviewed Hector at the correctional institute, but his voice and scathing gray eyes had stuck with her whether she liked it or not.
Now the judge continued, “I’ve received an additional opinion that I hadn’t anticipated… Ah.” He looked past her. “Captain MacLachlan.”
With a sense of inevitability and rising aggravation, Jane turned her head to see Duncan MacLachlan entering chambers. Speak of the devil. Or was it think of the devil. The smallish space immediately shrank. He wore a crisp blue uniform today, as if he’d wanted to emphasize his position in the law enforcement community.
“Your Honor,” he said with a nod.
Jane supposed the two men knew each other. Well, so what. She knew Judge Lehman, too. He was her favorite of the several family court judges with whom she’d dealt. She shouldn’t leap to assume the two men were comembers of some kind of old boys’ network.
“Apparently no one is represented by an attorney today,” the judge observed, continuing after everyone shook their heads in agreement. “Ms. Salgado, do you speak English?”
“Sí. Yes, but not…” Lupe hesitated.
“Fluently? Perhaps we need a translator.”
“I’m happy to translate anything Señora Salgado doesn’t understand,” Jane offered.
He determined that Jane was acceptable to Lupe as an interpreter and they moved on. He questioned her first. Was she able to keep Tito in her home if necessary? How did she feel about her brother returning to the custody of their father?
She explained that Tito could stay with her if necessary, but that it was difficult, given that she had three young children of her own, that she worked nights, that he had to sleep on the sofa.
“Yes,” Jane translated faithfully, “I am happy if my brother can live with Papa again. I have tried to make sure they saw each other often enough so that they still know each other.”
She heard a sound from her right that she strongly suspected was a snort from Captain MacLachlan, pitched low enough to escape being heard by His Honor.
The judge transferred his gaze to Tito’s father, a short, sturdy man who she suspected might have Mayan blood. There was something about his face—the breadth of his cheekbones—perhaps, that made her think of statues she’d seen at a traveling exhibit of Mayan antiquities at the Seattle Art Museum.
Interestingly, Hector spoke better English than his daughter did. He’d been in this country longer, he explained; initially he had left his family behind in Mexico and come up here for work, then brought them when he could. He was an automobile mechanic. Lupe was his oldest child, and she’d found the language difficult and had left school when she was fifteen.
“I have already talked to the man I worked for, and he wants to hire me again,” Hector told the judge. “He liked my work.”
“So you do have employment.” Lehman made a note. “Where are you currently living?”
He was staying with a friend, sleeping on the floor. The apartment was small and cramped, he admitted; two men shared it, and another was currently living there, as well. He would get an apartment or small house once he’d received his first few paychecks, but no one would rent to him until then.
Jane all but quivered, waiting for another snort—which didn’t come. Apparently Captain MacLachlan had more self-control than to indulge himself a second time.
The judge talked to Hector at some length, and finally seemed satisfied. He flipped through papers in the file open before him and peered at one for a moment, then looked up.
“Ms. Brooks, appointed by this court as Guardian ad Litem to represent the interests of Tito, believes those interests may be best served by living with you, Mr. Ortez, once you’ve found steady employment—which it sounds as if you’ve done—and established a stable living environment, which may be weeks to months away. She feels it would be best for Tito to remain close to his sister, as he’s been living with her for so long now, and to stay if possible in the same school. Ms. Hesby, do you disagree?”
The caseworker shook her head. “I’m fully aware that Señora Salgado has done her best, but I, too, believe Tito would benefit from more attention from a parental figure than she has been able to provide.”
The judge addressed Hector. “Will you be living here in Stimson?”
“Yes,” Hector said firmly. “This was my home before. My job is at Stan’s Auto Repair on Tenth Street. Tito could walk there from school.”
“Very good.” He looked toward Duncan, which gave Jane an excuse to swivel slightly in her seat and do the same. “Mr. Ortez, are you aware that Captain MacLachlan has been mentoring your son?”
Jane thought there was some tension in Hector’s nod even though he was smart enough to keep his thoughts hidden.
“The captain has expressed concern about the possibility of Tito living with you. He feels your conviction for a violent crime makes you an unsuitable role model for a young boy.”
Streaks of red now slashed across Hector’s high cheekbones. “I was defending myself only. I didn’t mean to kill anyone. I don’t usually fight. I’m not that kind of man.”
Duncan said, “And yet you didn’t deny, even in your trial, that you had stabbed Joseph Briggs. That he’d made you, I quote, very mad.”
Hector’s brown eyes were hot now. “I served my time. I shouldn’t lose my family, too.”
“Can you keep your temper with a teenage boy who doesn’t think he has to listen to his father?”
Hands planted flat on the table, Hector half rose. “I have other children. Ask Lupe! I have never hit my children.”
“But you had a wife then.” Duncan’s tone was barely shy of badgering. “You earned the money and she raised the children. Isn’t that right, Señor Ortez? But now you find yourself a single…”
Judge Lehman cleared his throat loudly. “Captain, Mr. Ortez, you may recall that this is a courtroom, not a forum for open debate.”
Flushed, Hector sank into his chair. Duncan MacLachlan’s expression didn’t change. Jane could swear, even so, that he was basking in satisfaction because they had all—the judge in particular—seen the flare of rage on Hector’s face. The captain glanced at her, and there it was in his eyes, unmistakable. He thought he’d introduced enough doubt in the judge’s mind to swing the decision away from Hector.
“Captain, you’re aware, I’m sure, how difficult it can be to find appropriate foster care placement for a teenage boy. Particularly if we insist that he stay within this school district.” Judge Lehman’s voice was ever so slightly sardonic. “Have you considered becoming licensed so that you could offer a home to Tito?”
It was all Jane could do not to applaud—or to laugh out loud. Instead, she turned a pleasantly interested face to Duncan, whose eyes had narrowed.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he said. “You’re aware, I’m sure, of how long and erratic my working hours can be.”
The judge nodded. “I assumed as much. Very well. At this point, I believe our goal should be to reunite Tito Ortez with his father.”
A broad grin broke on Hector’s face. Duncan stiffened.
“However, I’d like to see the transition take place slowly. For the present, Tito shall continue to live with his sister. Mr. Ortez, I’m granting you generous visitation rights. However…” He paused, leveling a look over the glasses that had slid down his nose. “For the present, all visitation will be supervised. Ms. Brooks, are you available to do that supervision?”
She’d done that once before, in a contentious custody case involving two preteen children. “Evenings and weekends,” she said, ignoring MacLachlan’s incredulous stare.
The judge did the same. “Good. Mr. Ortez, I’m going to rule that you can see Tito only when Ms. Brooks is present, or in your daughter Lupe’s home when she is present—if, for example, you were to join your family for dinner. However, I ask that you not spend the night in your daughter’s home.”
Jane murmured a translation to Lupe, who listened intently.
“Do you understand?”
Hector nodded somewhat unhappily. He was no longer smiling.
“Tito cannot live with you until you have a suitable home in any case. This will give you an opportunity to build a relationship with your son. Let’s reconvene in one month and at that point I’ll speak to Tito, as well. I’ll consider then whether you might be allowed unsupervised visitation or even whether Tito feels ready to live with you.” He lifted his gavel and brought it down on the table with a brisk whack. Without ceremony, he gave a friendly nod, stood and strode from the room.
The bailiff guarded the door through which the judge had disappeared. The recorder paid no attention to anyone remaining in the room. After a moment, Jane pushed back her chair and stood, followed shortly by the others. Lupe and Hector hurried out, speaking in low-voiced Spanish. The caseworker waited for Jane and they chatted as they followed. Jane was very conscious of Duncan MacLachlan behind them.
She excused herself, said goodbye to Jennifer Hesby and slipped into the ladies’ restroom, hoping she’d find herself alone when she emerged.
No such luck. Duncan was leaning against the wall waiting for her, his expression baleful.
He pushed away from the wall. “How can you kid yourself this is the right thing for Tito?”
“Children need their parents. Any social worker or psychologist will tell you that, for a child, maintaining a relationship with a parent is critical....”
“We’re not talking about a relationship.” He’d advanced far enough to be standing entirely too close to her. Aggressive. In her face. “This is a kid who has already demonstrated reckless behavior. You’re talking about leaving him to the sole guidance of a man just released from prison after serving a term for a violent crime. Take off the rose-tinted glasses, Ms. Brooks.”