Secrets to the Grave

“Maybe you won’t have to, Ms. Upchurch,” Judge Espinoza said pleasantly.

“She should be placed with me,” Bordain argued. “She knows me.”

Upchurch didn’t like the judge’s tone. “But she’s a ward of the state, Your Honor. Her case clearly falls under the auspices of CPS.”

“But I’m the judge,” Espinoza explained calmly. “And what I love about being a judge is that what I say goes.”

He turned to Dixon. “What’s your position on this, Sheriff?”

Dixon sighed. “Obviously, what’s best for the little girl is most important. She’s the only witness to a brutal homicide. At this point, we have no idea who the killer is, if he’s someone known to the girl, if he’s still in the area. The child was strangled and left for dead. If the perpetrator knows she’s alive ...”

“She’s potentially still at risk.”

“Yes, Your Honor. And, therefore, whoever has custody of her.”

“How do you expect to place this child into foster care, Ms. Upchurch?” Espinoza asked. “You’d be putting your foster family at risk.”

“There doesn’t need to be any foster care!” Milo Bordain insisted. No one seemed to be listening to her.

“If you aren’t willing to award custody to Mrs. Bordain at this time, I have a foster family willing to take her temporarily. The Bessoms.”

Willa Norwood rolled her eyes to look at Upchurch. “Are you serious? The Bessoms already have five foster children and run a day care center. You seriously think that’s an environment for this little girl, as psychologically fragile as she is?”

“Being around other children will take her mind off what happened,” Upchurch said, as if witnessing a murder and nearly being murdered were no more traumatic than losing a tooth or scraping a knee.

“She’ll be lost in the shuffle,” Anne said. “How can she get the kind of attention she needs? Is Mrs. Bessom trained in child psychology? Does she have any experience grief-counseling children?”

“A stable environment is just as important as any of that,” Upchurch declared. “Mrs. Bessom runs a tight ship. Those kids say ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and ‘No, ma’am.’ They toe the line and do their chores—”

“Great,” Anne said sarcastically. “Why don’t we just send Haley to a military school? They can drill the grief out of her.”

Upchurch glared at her. “I don’t appreciate your smart mouth.”

“And I don’t appreciate that, so far, all your concern has been about pissing on fences,” Anne shot back.

Milo Bordain stood up, red faced, shouting, “LISTEN TO ME! I WANT HER WITH ME! SHE SHOULD BE WITH ME!”

“Mrs. Bordain.” Judge Espinoza stood up and tried to put a hand on Milo Bordain’s arm in attempt to calm her. She jerked away.

The uncomfortable silence embarrassed her back to her senses. Tears squeezing from her eyes, she sat down and dug a linen handkerchief out of her Hermes bag.

“I’m sorry,” she said tersely. “I’m so distraught. I’ve lost Marissa, now Haley ... I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Mrs. Bordain could apply to become a foster parent,” Upchurch suggested. “If Mr. and Mrs. Bordain became foster parents, I have the authority to place the child—”

“The circumstances here are extraordinary, Your Honor,” Dixon said. “The child needs to be in protective custody with people trained to help her through the nightmare of what happened to her. Both Mrs. and Mr. Leone have degrees in psychology. Anne was a teacher. She dealt with the grief of her students last year—”

“She’s not even an employee of the state, Your Honor,” Upchurch argued. “She’s a volunteer. And they’re not licensed foster parents. Their home hasn’t been screened —”

“Are you kidding me with that?” Anne said. “You’re objecting on the basis that I haven’t filed the proper paperwork? That you haven’t come to my home to see if I have dust bunnies under my bed?”

“There’s much more to it than that.”

“Yes, there is,” Anne said passionately. “There’s what’s best for Haley. She’s a victim of a violent crime. Do you know what that’s like, Maureen? Mrs. Bordain? Because I do. I know exactly what that’s like.

“I know exactly what it’s like to wake up screaming in the night, to be terrified to walk around a corner, or to turn your back even to someone you know, let alone a stranger.

“Do either of you know how that feels? Do you know what it is to suddenly, inexplicably, be filled with so much fear you think you’ll choke on it? To break out in a cold sweat in the middle of a crowded room? I do. I’ve had those experiences. I know exactly what Haley is going to face. I can help this child in ways no one else can.”

“Have you thought this all the way through, Anne?” Willa Norwood asked. “You know our policy as advocates is never to take a client to our homes. There’s a reason for that. I don’t want you to put yourself at risk.”

“My husband is a former Chicago police detective and a former agent for the FBI. Our lives are filled with law enforcement personnel. You can’t swing a stick at my house without hitting a cop.”

“That’s not the only kind of risk I’m talking about.”

She was talking about the risk of becoming too emotionally involved, Anne knew. She had already chosen to ignore that risk.

The judge turned to Vince. “What about you, Mr. Leone? You’ve been awfully quiet through all of this. Do you have an opinion to contribute?”

Anne tensed. Vince was against the idea of her fostering Haley Fordham or being attached to this case in any way. He was afraid it would upset her, set her back, put her in danger physically and psychologically.

He looked down at her and said, “Honestly? I have to say ... there is no one more uniquely qualified to help this child than my wife.”

Anne let the air out of her lungs and her chest flooded with warmth. Tears rose up behind her eyes. Still holding her hand, Vince gave her fingers another reassuring squeeze.

Judge Espinoza nodded and placed his palms down on the tabletop, pushing up out of his chair. “Then, as far as I’m concerned, it’s all over but the paperwork. Anne will be appointed guardian. When the little girl is released from the hospital, she’ll stay with the Leones. We’ll revisit the issue if a relative turns up.”

25

“Guess who’s babysitting on date night?” Vince said.

Mendez grimaced. “I volunteer. I know you’re pissed. I don’t blame you.”

They had met up at the SO and were driving through a beautiful old neighborhood near the college. A pricey part of town, Vince knew. The streets were lined with big mature trees. The houses were a mix of styles and sizes, built mostly between the thirties and forties with excellent craftsmanship. The house he and Anne had settled on was in this neighborhood, just a few blocks away.

Vince sighed. “I’m over it. I’m trying to look at it from a different perspective. It might actually be a good thing for Anne. She’s pretty passionate about helping this little girl because they share the experience of having been victims of violent crimes. That might help her as much as it helps the child.”

“If that happens, do I get a big pat on the back?”

“Don’t get greedy. I could still kick your ass.”

“You kind of did that this morning,” Mendez pointed out.

Vince laughed. “You think I was hard on you?”

“You made me look like an idiot.”

“You did that on your own by not being prepared. You present a case at the Bureau, you had better have those fucking ducks lined up beak to tail.”

“So you were just trying to toughen me up,” Mendez said, clearly not believing a word of it.