Vigilant Read online

  As Ari read the handwritten list of violations in her folder to the Judge, she expected Hope to get angry and argue with her—perhaps make a scene. But that was not her reaction at all. Instead she broke down into silent tears and refused to meet Ari’s eye. Atypical for sure. Something was off. The tears were strange, but Hope only made matters worse when she refused to answer Judge Hatcher’s questions.

  “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Hope,” Judge Hatcher remarked. Hope kept her steely gaze forward, eventually being led from the courtroom for disrespectful conduct.

  “Thanks,” Ari said to the guard. She and Hope walked through the heavy steel door to the holding area behind the courtroom.

  His huge set of keys jangled against his leg and he said, “I’ll be outside the door. Knock when you’re ready.”

  The minute the door shut, Ari turned a sharp eye on her client. Hope had her arms crossed and her chin stuck out in defiance. They stared at one another until Ari finally said, “What was that all about?”

  “What was what all about?” the girl shot back.

  “You wouldn’t even talk to Judge Hatcher.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  The look she had on her face was hard as stone. Despite this, Ari wanted more details. “Like she said, we can’t help you unless you tell us the truth.”

  “I told you what happened.”

  When Hope had been picked up, she’d told detectives and then Ari an elaborate story of being kidnapped off the streets and forced into prostitution. “So you don’t show up for work, you skipped GED class, and you bailed on your aftercare program because you were being held against your will?” Ari asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “The police picked you up in a cut-out dress and plastic high heels. That sounds a little too familiar.” Ari couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. The job, the classes, the days out of program set them back on all of their goals. Not only that, Hope turned seventeen soon. One more arrest and she was going to jail, not juvie. “You can’t keep playing these games. Since you didn’t defend yourself, Judge Hatcher had no choice but to believe the police.”

  “She wasn’t going to believe me anyway. Just like you don’t,” the girl said. Hope and Ari stared at one another until Hope admitted, “I couldn’t leave, Ms. Grant. They locked us in the house. They only let us out to work.”

  “Who did this then? Who are you talking about?”

  Hope said nothing.

  Ari decided to give it another try. “Okay, well where is this house?”

  “I don’t know. We only came and went after dark. We all slept in the same room.”

  “Who is ‘we’?”

  “There were other girls there. I didn’t know them.”

  “And they were kidnapped, too?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Some seemed to know the men, but maybe they had just been there longer.”

  “The arresting officer said you were alone on the street. Why didn’t you run away then?”

  Another look of defiance crossed her face and Hope didn’t reply. Ari threw her hands in the air. “I can’t help you if you hold stuff back.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why?”

  Hope blinked a couple of times and turned to face the wall, blocking Ari out.

  Ari sighed and sat on the bench that lined the wall. “Hope, you have a history of working the streets and this isn’t the first time you’ve gone missing for more than a couple of days.”

  “I’ve been better, though! No tardies or absences!” Rare tears filled Hope’s eyes.

  “Not recently, but your file is full of violations. Judge Hatcher may not let you come home this time. She thinks you’ll go back on the street.” Ari shook her head. “I hate to say it, but I agree. You need some time in here to think things over and figure out what you want to do with yourself.”

  “I’m not lying!” Hope said.

  Ari stood and picked up her bag. “I want to believe you, but you’ve lied to me before.”

  Hope went over to the door and kicked it several times, the loud noise bouncing off the metal. “Take me out of here,” she yelled, furious that Ari didn’t believe her. The guard opened the door and grabbed Hope by the arm. She turned to Ari and said, “You just wait, Ms. Grant. They’ll find me in here and you’ll know the truth. This jail can’t stop them.”

  The officer led her out of the room and shut the door behind them. Hope continued yelling as they walked away, her voice echoing against the walls. Ari, sat back on the bench and rested her face in her hands, feeling like a complete failure.

  * * *

  Self-defeat only lasted for a moment.

  A knock on the outer metal door brought Ari out of her funk. She composed herself before the door opened, smoothing her hair and taking a deep breath. It was one thing around there to be a caring advocate, but another entirely to be seen as weak. Someone in these kids’ lives had to be strong and usually, that role ended up on Ari’s twenty-six-year-old shoulders.

  Nick Sanders opened the door and gave Ari a grin. “You finished in here? Judge Hatcher requested you in her chambers. I just had an appointment with her and I offered to find you.”

  “I’m finished.” She picked up her bag and walked toward the out-of-place attorney. Most people who came in and out of Juvenile Court had a tired, rough look about them. Not Nick. He had that all-American glow. Dark blond hair, bright blue eyes and perfectly perfect teeth. He was the knight in shining armor around there. “Any idea what this is about?”

  “Not a clue,” he said. Nick worked as a public defender for the kids charged and up for trial. They had worked together on several cases over the last couple of months and had gone out once or twice with people from their combined offices. She liked having a friendly face at court buffering the angry parents and upset children.

  “I hope it’s not about Hope’s case. I don’t even know what’s going on with her.”

  “What happened?” he asked.“She told me some tale about being kidnapped and forced into prostitution. But when it was time, she wouldn’t get on the stand. Judge Hatcher had no choice but to send her back downstairs since she wouldn’t even defend herself.”

  Nick placed his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You can only do so much. Hope has to take some responsibility.”

  “I know that. Honestly, I think she’s lying and trying to make me feel guilty for not supporting her more. Somehow it’s working.”

  They stopped outside the brown wooden door with the gold plate across the front that said, “Judge Hatcher.”

  “You and I both know that more lies come through this place than truth. Half the time they can’t even help but make something up. It’s habit. All you did was follow procedure. You placed a warrant on her when she failed to go to school and work. Because of that, she was arrested. You’re here to advocate for her but it’s her job to speak up. It’s a hard lesson for these kids to learn.”

  Nick offered Ari another smile and that time, she returned it. “You’re right. I’m just letting it get to me today.”

  “It’s not a bad thing that you care for your clients, Ari,” he said. “But it’s the hard reality that they can’t always return the emotion. They’re kids. Damaged ones.”

  “Stop being so wise, Mr. Sanders. You’re making me seem like a newbie or something.”

  “Unlikely. We all know your hardcore. The kids are terrified of being placed on your caseload.”

  “Yeah, right,” she laughed, but his accusation held more than a grain of truth. There wasn’t much she was afraid of, anymore.

  He raised his hand to the door, but stopped, frowning down at her. “Oh hey, I heard about the robbery. Are you okay?”

  Ari nodded. Although the robbery itself was public knowledge, having been covered by the Glory City local news that night, she still hadn’t told anyone about her encounter with the mystery guy other than her roommate, Oliver.

&nb
sp; “Yeah, no big deal. I mean it was, but no one was really injured.”

  “They said that vigilante was there and caught the guys?”

  “I guess. I didn’t see what happened. I hid in a closet. But when the police came, I saw three guys in the police car.”

  Just three. The one missing was Jace Watkins. The mystery guy didn’t stop him, and like Detective Bryson, she couldn’t figure out why. Could he have been out-matched by an impulsive former juvenile delinquent?

  “Smart move,” Nick said. “Hiding like that. Do you think you’ll get called to court to testify?”

  “Not sure. I didn’t see anything, so probably not.”

  “I’m glad you got out of there unharmed.” His eyes softened. Not for the first time Ari thought she noticed a bit of interest that went beyond courtrooms and juvenile delinquents.

  The look vanished and he poised his hand over the door again. “Ready?”

  “Yep,” she said.

  A court officer opened the door and escorted Ari into the judge’s office. The small, but intimidating woman sat behind a large desk, going through paperwork.

  “Ms. Grant.” She directed her to the chair in front of her desk.

  “Mr. Sanders said you wanted to see me?”

  “I did,” the judge said, digging through a stack of case files on her desk. She unearthed one and held it up. “Curtis Wilson? Fifteen, petty theft, truancy?”

  “He’s one of the few males on my caseload. You know they tend to be a little more hardened and generally female before they end up on my list. He phased out last year, though.” Ari sighed, annoyed he’d gotten into trouble again. “What did he do?”

  “Truancy. Running from the police during a routine stop. Not a major offense but with his history, it’s only a matter of time before he escalates,” she explained. “He hasn’t officially been remanded to Juvenile Justice care yet but I’m signing these papers today. He’s headed for trouble and nothing we’ve done so far is helping. I’m requesting you take supervision of his case again.”

  This conversation had already taken an unusual turn. Ari had never heard of a judge requesting a caseworker. “Me?” Ari asked. “The review panel tends to decide who gets which cases.”

  Judge Hatcher gave Ari a sharp eye. “I’m aware, but this one needs a personal touch. And I want you to see that he gets in a specific placement.”

  Ari frowned. Again, Judge Hatcher’s request seemed atypical. “Where do you want him to go?”

  “There’s a program called the Glory Youth Center. It’s a sports-oriented program, which I think would be really great for this kid. It’s structured, with residential housing and an excellent staff.”

  “The Glory Youth Center? Why haven’t I heard of this?” Ari had clients in residential programs all over the state. None had ever been assigned there.

  “The students are generally hand-picked, like I’m doing. They are looking for a specific type of kid to excel in their program. They don’t just accept anyone.”

  Ari nodded as though she understood, but really, it was all so unusual. “Can you tell me what Curtis has that makes him a likely candidate for the program? Because although I agree that he’s not a lost cause, he manages to find his way into trouble a lot. He gave me a lot of grief when he was on my caseload.”

  Judge Hatcher sat back in her leather chair and pressed her fingers together, making a tent. “Curtis is in an environment that he can’t get out of. His father is dead, his mother has AIDS, and his grandmother just doesn’t have the energy to keep him straight. He’s athletic and has shown that if he’s in a like-minded environment, he can do well.”

  “All right. If you think it’s best, I’ll start the paperwork and try to get him funding.”

  “The funding has been taken care of. You’ll get the file this week and place him on Monday.”

  “Great,” Ari said, working up a smile. “Easiest placement so far.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Grant, for helping with this case, and for all the hard work you put in for these kids.”

  In a job with low pay and constant heartbreak, a compliment went a long way. Ari raised an eyebrow and said, “Thank you, but I’m not sure I really have another choice, you know?”

  Judge Hatcher nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  THREE

  Ari walked past Rebecca’s desk and scribbled her initials on the sign-in pad. The receptionist sucked on a sugar-free red lollipop—part of her no-smoking-no-candy health change.

  “That took a long time,” her friend and coworker said. She barely glanced up from the computer.

  “I know.” Ari held up a bag of fast food. “Lunch of champions.”

  Rebecca nodded in sympathy and nonchalantly asked, “So how was Mr. Sanders today?”

  “Fine,” Ari replied. She knew where this was going. “Professional.”

  “I bet he looked handsome in his suit.”

  Ari looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. She loved Rebecca, but the girl had a big mouth. “He looked nice. And professional. Strictly professional.”

  Rebecca pulled the sucker out of her mouth. “If you say so. Did he invite you to dinner?”

  Ari blushed. “No. I barely talked to him at all. Judge Hatcher wanted to talk to me about a client.”

  She reached for the stack of pink notes on her desk and waved them in the air. “I think he must have forgotten. He called while you were out. Ten bucks says he asks you to dinner. Alone.”

  “Strictly professional,” Ari repeated, grabbing the notes. She walked away from Rebecca’s desk and through the office, stopping at her mailbox where she found three new, thick files. She skimmed the names.

  “Darn it, Stanton, I’m not taking on these cases!”

  A loud voice sounded from an office down the hall. “Yes, you are!”

  The Glory City Juvenile Probation Office was half office, half rehabilitation center. Ari and the other caseworkers had offices in the building, but there was also space for treatment programs and activities for the kids assigned to the caseworkers.

  Four other caseworkers and two assistants worked with Ari. Rebecca and Beverly managed the main desk. Shirley worked with first offenders. John provided after-care services, like finding a job or enrolling in school. Mr. Brown had been there for thirty years and Ari expected him to retire at any moment. He had a hodgepodge of cases he managed. Tony carried a caseload of clients in long-term detention. Then there was Stanton, Ari’s supervisor. With the file in her hand, she rushed past the other offices and into his.

  She found him bent over files of his own. “No, no more girls. I can’t take it—they’re sucking me dry.”

  He looked up and saw Ari’s desperation. “What happened?”

  With her bag slung over her shoulder and the heavy stack of files in her hands she moved toward the chair in front of his desk. With little grace, Ari flopped into the seat.

  “Ugh, just a crappy day in court. Hope hates me.” She ignored his amused look and continued. “Not like they don’t all hate me, but she thinks I broke her confidence or something. And I’m not sure what’s going on with her—it just made me feel useless.”

  Settling into the uncomfortable chair, Ari told him what happened in court and described Hope’s story. Stanton—or really, Quinn Stanton, but everyone at the office called him by his last name—listened to her story while leaning back and rubbing his shiny, bald head. He was the best at what you could be around here—dedicated, calm, hard-working. His clients and the system never got him frazzled like Ari’s cases often made her.

  Stanton’s desk chair squeaked as he shifted. “I can understand your reaction, I tend to agree with you—if anything, she was probably trying to get out of the violation.”

  “I know, but you know how they usually hate you for getting in their business and forcing them to behave? This wasn’t why she was upset. She was upset because I didn’t believe her. I never believe anything any of my kids say. I’ve been lied to, too man
y times. Plus, she was so scared. I’ve never seen her afraid—of anything.”

  Stanton sighed. “Look, there’s nothing you can do. She violated her contract—not only by being away from home, but also for getting arrested. And if she really is afraid of something, then she probably is safer in the county lockup than anywhere else.” He nodded toward the files in Ari’s lap. “Everything okay then with those new cases?”

  Ari narrowed her eyes at him, trying to look fierce. “No, it’s not. I don’t want any more lost girls on my caseload! The abuse and how they sell themselves and the pain and the men and the scars—” Ari sighed, cutting off her argument. Everything about that day felt hopeless…but there was nothing she could do but try her best. It was her job.

  Stanton’s dark brown eyes lit up a little. “You do a good job, Ari. These girls trust and need you—even if it’s just for the short period they’re in our custody.”

  Under the weight of her bag and files, Ari struggled to her feet. She shot him a false look of anger. “Way to hit me in my soft spot, Boss.”

  Laughter bounced off the walls and he picked up his pen to continue working. Ari heard him mutter as she walked out the door and down the hall to her office, “Not my fault you’re a sucker.”

  * * *

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of phone calls and paperwork—something Ari rarely had the opportunity to do. Most days she was either in the field, visiting homes or placing a child in residential care. Not to mention the days spent traveling across the state to check on clients in long-term lockup. But that afternoon, her calendar was relatively free so she took the opportunity to catch up on some work and leave on time.

  Ari lived close to the office—only a short commute of about ten minutes without traffic. That night she made it home easily, pulling her car onto her tree-lined street and parking in her driveway. She loved her house. The porch and swing, the leaded glass windows, the historic door. The Craftsman bungalow she purchased a year prior was painted a soothing seafoam green, with buttery-yellow trim. It was small—only a thousand square feet, two bedrooms and one bath, a tiny galley kitchen, but it was hers. She shared it with a roommate—one she chose to help make the mortgage payments, and for safety. Plus, he was Ari’s best friend.