I have to ask, “What did Lesha whisper to you?”
Spinelli thought about Lesha’s Christmas wish. His body quivered. Goose bumps lined his arms. He cleared his throat. “She asked for a new mom and dad for her, and her brother and sister then maybe Darius wouldn’t be scared and cry all the time.” Spinelli paused. It was harder than he thought it would be to actually say the words. “She asked for a mom like you or the new foster mom, a mom that would love them and take care of them.” His heartbeat quickened. Though it was only thirty degrees outside his cheeks were on fire. His heart ached.
Shannon placed her hand over her chest. Her eyes swam with tears. She lifted her hand to his cheek. “Those poor kids. They deserve so much more. No child deserves to live that way.”
She held his gaze. The intensity of her stare frightened him. He knew she knew. Somehow, she’d found out about his childhood. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. His comfort level plummeted. He needed to end this conversation. He hit the remote start button on his key fob. The engine roared.
Silence filled the vehicle during the drive back to Shannon’s apartment. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t clear his mind long enough to speak one sentence. When he wasn’t thinking about Shannon, and the fact she knew his dirty little secret, thoughts of Lesha, and her Christmas wish, consumed him.
He parked his truck, slid out, scooted over to the passenger side door, and opened it for Shannon. He walked her to the front door and watched as she keyed in the numeric pass code. The door buzzed and Spinelli pushed it open and held it for her to pass through. He followed her to her apartment. No sooner did she place the key in the slot, the door to the apartment across the hall from hers opened and Mrs. Finch stepped out.
“Good evening, dear.”
“Hello, Mrs. Finch. How are you tonight?” Shannon asked.
“Oh, I’m good, good as it gets for a woman my age,” Mrs. Finch replied as her lips rose upward into a wide smile. She glanced over her shoulder. “Sister, come quick. Shannon’s home and her hot smelling friend from last night is here again.”
Spinelli caught Shannon’s eye roll and was unable to refrain from smiling.
Spinelli could hear the shuffle of Mrs. Knight’s feet seconds before she surfaced in the doorway. She glanced up at them. “Hello, Shannon. It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Spinelli. Please forgive my sister. She’s always been a little nosey and loose with her tongue.”
Mrs. Knight turned her attention to her sister. “Come, Sister, leave the kids be and let them get on with their evening.”
Shannon unlocked her apartment door and stepped through with Spinelli on her heels, he wanted in. He wanted to spend more time with her. Shannon spun around. “Thank you for seeing me home. I appreciate it. Have a good night.”
Spinelli’s mind raced. He tried to think of a way to get her to invite him in and for the first time in his life, not one good lady-killer line presented itself. Blank, his mind came up blank.
“Good night, Shannon, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh, I’ve got court in the morning so I won’t need you until after lunch.”
“Okay, I’ll come up to your office after lunch then.”
Shannon’s apartment door clicked shut. Rejection, really? Her rejection made him want her even more.
Chapter Thirteen
Shannon arrived at work at precisely 8:00 a.m. She flipped on the lights, deposited her briefcase on her desk, and set her coffee mug on top of the file cabinet. She stowed her purse in the file drawer, and then shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the coat tree.
As she reached over to retrieve her coffee mug, she paused to study the photo of her three nephews. Without conscious thought, she pressed a light kiss to the photo with the tip of her finger. “I miss you boys,” she whispered out loud.
Shannon pulled open the second drawer of the file cabinet and shuffled through the alphabetical files until she reached the Clarkson file. She pulled it out, laid it on the top of the other files, and flipped it open. She studied the notes so she would be prepared for the 9:00 a.m. custody hearing. She paged through the paperwork and found a photo of the Clarkson children, James, age six, and Katrina, age three. Shannon lifted the photo from the file and brought it closer to her eyes. You poor kids. Her heart grew heavy and a sharp pain shot through it. She closed her eyes; a tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Clarkson children for all they were going through at their young ages, and for all the other children she dealt with on a daily basis going through similar situations.
Shannon’s mind drifted away from thoughts of the Clarkson children to Spinelli. She wondered what he was like as a child. She wondered how many times a caseworker pulled his file from a drawer and recommended foster care for him. The events of Spinelli’s life gave her hope, hope for the other children in the system. He made it out of the system and did well for himself. Maybe the Clarkson children will as well.
The Clarkson children had been removed from the home of their parents, Lamar and Chandra because Lamar and Chandra had been busted for using and selling marijuana. The kids were placed in temporary foster care. The judge would determine today whether or not the kids would be released back into their parent’s custody. Shannon glanced over toward the photo of her nephews. She picked up their photo, pressing it and the photos of the Clarkson children to her heart.
Shannon glanced down at her watch. It read 8:50. She put the photos back in their places. She tucked the file folder under her arm as she headed out of her office and toward the courtroom on the first floor.
She arrived in the courtroom at five minutes to nine. She took the aisle seat in the front row positioned immediately behind the children’s appointed attorney. She glanced over to see Lamar and Chandra Clarkson sitting at a table with their appointed attorney. They looked like model citizens all decked out in their Sunday best, much unlike their mug shots stapled to the front of the manila file labeled ‘Clarkson’ which rested on her lap.
Shannon stared at the mug shot of Lamar. His matted coils of hair hung far beyond his shoulders and blocked much of his unshaven face, and though the photo was in black and white, she could easily make out his tie-dyed shirt. Her eyes shifted from the photo to Lamar who sat next to his attorney. Today he wore a maroon dress shirt and khakis. His head and face were now shaved clean. Shannon looked down at the photo of Chandra. Her short afro was pressed flat to her head on one side as if she’d just gotten out of bed and the dark circles under her eyes told the same story. She glanced over at Chandra who sat next to Lamar. She looked pretty today. Her hair was fluffed and the Cover Girl makeup worked its wonders. She wore dark brown dress pants and a hot pink sweater with pearl beads accenting the neckline. Shannon stared at both Lamar and Chandra. She hoped the visual front they were putting on today wouldn’t fool the judge.
Shannon listened as James’ school psychologist, Mrs. Charles, testified.
“Mrs. Charles, what is your position?” the children’s attorney asked.
“I’m the school psychologist.”
“How long have you worked in that position?”
“Nearly fifteen years.”
“Have you been treating James Clarkson?”
“Yes.”
“Tell us about James and his home environment.”
Mrs. Charles glanced at Lamar and Chandra then shifted her eyes back to the attorney, “James is a textbook case of child neglect. He fends for himself and his little sister. He rarely speaks and has missed nearly fifty percent of the school days so far this year. His attendance has increased since he’s been in foster care.”
Both attorneys asked Mrs. Charles a few more questions then released her from the witness stand. Shannon’s turn to testify came. Knowing her testimony would be crucial to the judge’s decision about placing the children she paused briefly to gather her thoughts before answering each question.
“Counseling, both family and individual, was recommended when thi
s case first crossed my desk. Rehab was also recommended for Lamar and Chandra,” Shannon said from the witness stand. “None of the recommendations were taken.”
The attorney guided the testimony along. “You’ve been a caseworker of record on this case for nearly a year.”
“Yes.”
“What is the current status?”
“As recently as a month ago Mr. Clarkson was arrested for possession of drug paraphernalia. It’s been six months for Mrs. Clarkson. And again, neither has attended the recommended counseling or rehabilitation.”
Lamar and Chandra groaned dramatically as Shannon spoke. Shannon refused to look at them, not wanting to give them the time of day. She fought to keep her concentration on her testimony, hoping not to inadvertently let the children down. Sometimes just the simplest mistake or miss-wording would send things awry and cause everything to spiral hopelessly out of control.
Shannon continued to answer questions about the children and the case file, and when the children’s attorney finished his questioning Shannon prepared herself for the frustration of cross-examination.
“Are you aware that Mr. Clarkson has agreed to enter a rehabilitation program?” the Clarkson’s court-appointed attorney asked.
“Yes, I’m aware that he has agreed to enter a rehabilitation program just like the other two times in the past ten months when he agreed to enter but didn’t.”
“Lying bitch,” Lamar yelled as he slammed his fists on the worn wooden table in front of him. All eyes shifted to him. His hardened face screamed with rage. Poor Lamar. Is he having a tough day? Shannon imagined part of his frustration was not that he may lose his children, but with the loss of his kids came the loss of his tax-payer-supported income.
Judge Matthews lifted his hand and pointed his old shriveled boney finger in Lamar’s direction. “Mr. Clarkson, if you can’t control yourself, you’ll be removed.”
Lamar grunted and stiffened his shoulders.
“Ms. O’Hara, have either Mr. or Mrs. Clarkson physically abused the children?” the Clarkson’s attorney continued.
Shannon paused before she answered the question, knowing the fate of the children rested on her shoulders. “No, there have been no reports of physical abuse.”
“Thank you, Ms. O’Hara. That is all I have.”
“But wait, one must consider the emotional abuse and neglect the children have suffered,” Shannon squeaked out in a frantic voice as she glared in the direction of the Clarksons, and was completely ignored by their lawyer.
The judge dismissed Shannon from the witness chair. She stepped down and headed back to her seat. She feared she had failed the children. Anger rippled through her body and as she passed by the Clarkson’s she couldn’t help but flash an accusing and disappointed look in their direction.
Just as Shannon passed by the attorney tables, she heard the sound of wood scraping on wood. She turned her head in the direction of the noise to find Lamar pushing his chair back from the table and before anyone could do anything, Lamar growled and lunged at her. He wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed. His grip was so tight it stifled her screams. Together they tumbled to the floor. As they fell, Shannon hit her left cheekbone on the railing behind the attorney tables. A sharp pain shot through her face, her head rang like church bells and colorful fireworks flashed in front of her eyes. She still couldn’t force a scream, nor could she breathe.
Court security officers pried Lamar’s hands loose from Shannon’s neck and pulled him off her. Her lungs inflated with air, stinging just for a moment until the second rush of air passed through. She fixed her gaze on Lamar as he fought to break free from the security guards. One of the officers tased him causing him to drop to the floor and flop like a tuna fish out of water. Within seconds, they’d cuffed him and removed him from the courtroom.
Shannon managed to push herself up to her hands and knees and the children’s attorney helped her to her feet. “Are you okay?”
Shannon glanced around the courtroom. Fireworks still flashed in her eyes.
“Can you hear me? Are you okay?” the attorney asked again as he kept his hand wrapped around the upper part of her arm to help steady her.
She placed her hand over her cheek and squeezed her eyes shut. She opened her eyes and looked at the attorney. “I guess I’m okay, but my cheek kind of hurts.”
A few minutes later court proceedings resumed without Lamar in the room. Judge Matthews denied the Clarkson’s request for custody of their children. Chandra burst into tears and looked toward Shannon. “This is your fault. You’ll pay for this!”
Shannon simply turned away from Chandra and walked out of the courtroom on unsteady legs.
She made it to her office without shedding a single tear. She pulled out her chair and the second she sat down the tears began to flow. She placed her elbows on her desk and rested her head in her hands despite her throbbing cheek.
“Are you okay?” Anna asked as she passed through the office doorway and took a stance in front of Shannon’s desk staring down at her. “Court security just called and told me what happened.”
Shannon lifted her head and looked up at Anna. “I guess. Lamar grabbed me and we tumbled to the ground. I hit my cheek on the wood rail on the way down. It hurts, I’m sure it’s just bruised.”
“Maybe you should go get it checked out and make sure the bone isn’t cracked or anything. It looks like it’s already starting to swell.”
Shannon lifted herself from her chair, walked over to the file cabinet, and pulled out her purse. She fumbled through it until she found her compact mirror. She popped it open and assessed her cheek, touching it lightly with her forefinger.
* * * *
Spinelli slammed his phone receiver down and sprang out of his chair before the court security officer could finish telling him about Shannon’s altercation in the courtroom with Lamar Clarkson. He raced up the stairwell taking two steps at a time. He needed to see her. He needed to make sure she was okay. His quick heavy footsteps drew glances from Shannon and Anna as he passed through the doorway of Shannon’s office.
He flashed a glance at Anna as he passed by her, then he zoned in on Shannon. He stared down into her big emerald green eyes. The redness splattered throughout the whites of her eyes and the swelling already occurring on the left side of her face drew his undivided attention. His heart jumped into his throat at the sight of her, nearly causing him to choke.
Spinelli fought hard to control himself. He wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of the bastard that did this to her. He sucked in a deep breath and willed his heart out of his throat and back into his chest. He slowed his rapid-paced breathing back to normal. With his eyes fixed on Shannon, he took another step toward her. He placed his fingers under her chin and slowly lifted it to get a better look at her face. He worked to find a calm voice. “I just heard what happened. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.”
Though she spoke casually, he could tell by the fury in her eyes she was mad as hell at the asshole that did this to her. And the slight shiver penetrating her body told him of the pain she endured.
He cupped her face in his hands. Her skin felt warm to the touch. He used his thumbs to swipe the damp tears from her cheeks and continued to stare into her gaze. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away from hers.
Shannon unlocked her gaze and took a quick short step back, pulling away from him. “I appreciate your coming up here and your concern, Detective, but I’m fine.”
Spinelli took the hint and stepped back as well. He felt his heart crack in half as she spoke. His mind raced for something to do or say in response to her but nothing surfaced. Disbelief filled him. His exceptional ability to read people, an ability he’d prided himself on through the years, seemed to disappear around Shannon. Her words not a second ago brushed him off yet the intense look in her eyes seemed to tell a different story. He kept his gaze locked on her, searc
hing for anything, any clue at all to tell him how to reach her in the way he wanted. This unfamiliar territory made him anxious. He tucked his sweaty hands into the pockets of his jeans and cleared his throat.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll be back up this afternoon then as planned.”
He searched her eyes one more time before he spun on his heel, nodded at Anna, and went out the door.
* * * *
Shannon stared after Spinelli as he walked out of her office. Her heart raced and an odd sensation rippled through her stomach. In her entire life, she’d never seen such intensity in a man’s stare and it frightened her. She didn’t know why it scared her but it did. She was sure he was going to kiss her, right in front of Anna, and she wanted him to kiss her but then her mouth took over and blew him off. What in the hell is wrong with me?
She could feel Anna’s eyes on her. She shifted her gaze toward her to find her staring intently at her. The corners of Anna’s mouth twitched upward. “Jesus Christ he’s good-looking. I’ve never seen such dark eyes. And you, my dear, are holding out on me,” Anna accused as she grabbed a folder from the desk and used it to fan herself.
“What?” Shannon asked.
Anna shook her head. “Don’t ’what’ me. You and Mr. Hottie there. What’s going on?”
Shannon frowned. “Nothing, there’s nothing going on, just work.”
“Nice try but I’m not buying it. That look between you two was so intense the building could have fallen down around you and neither one of you would have noticed.”
Shannon shook her head. “We work together, and that’s all. I don’t really think he’s that into me and he’s not my type. Plus, I just don’t have the time right now.”
Anna rolled her eyes and blew out a sigh. “Shannon, dear, Shannon, I know I shouldn’t complain seeing as I’m your boss but you focus too much on work. As your friend, I’m telling you that you need to get out and play a little. Go dancing or go to a movie. Go out and have some fun for a change. That’s what people your age do. They go out and have fun.” Anna pointed at the doorway. “And the hottie you just sent packing, the one that eyes you up as if you’re his favorite kind of candy, is just what you need.”
Covert Exposure, a Nick Spinelli Mystery Page 7