The girl had been served an awful lot. Her mother was dying. Her father was verbally and emotionally abusive. The only relative who could, or would, take her in was Monica Simms’s brother Eliot and his wife Tess. Although they seemed like kind people, Monica had informed Shad that Eliot was much like their father. On the positive side he was a good worker and provider, but Eliot also wound up not being home a lot. Tess was also devoted to her own job with the Department of Natural Resources. Shad wasn’t completely content with the prospect of placing Charissa in a home where she might feel second to her adoptive parents’ jobs, but it was better than being belittled, berated and bullied throughout her childhood.

“I’m here to protect you.” A flicker of an idea surfaced in his mind. “All of us, your mom, Uncle Eliot, Aunt Tess, we all want to do what’s best for you. You’re very important to all of us. And anytime you want to talk to me, I want to listen. I’m your lawyer, really. Your mom hired me to protect you, and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Charissa looked up and studied him for a few seconds before speaking. “You’re my lawyer?”

“That’s right.”

“Does that mean you have to do what I say?”

“If I agree it’s in your best interests.”

“Will you stop the divorce?”

Shad shook his head again. “I’m sorry. Stopping the divorce is not in your best interests.”

Charissa frowned as several more seconds passed. Then her expression became more thoughtful.

“So I could fire you if I wanted?”

Shad was as impressed as he was taken aback. For a girl who was just going to be starting kindergarten at summer’s end, Charissa was developing keen problem solving skills.

Of course that could also be an indication she had too much practice at being thrust into problems children shouldn’t have to handle.

Shad hated to just tell Charissa no. He was too familiar with the powerlessness of childhood, and Charissa would be overwhelmed if she truly knew how many powers were pulling at her now. He also didn’t want to mislead her with a yes. This was one of those times he had to find a compromise.

“Only if you give me two weeks notice.”

“What’s that?”

“That means if you fire me, you’re still stuck with me for two more weeks.”

Charissa thought about his explanation before reaching her conclusion. “I guess I’d better fire you now, then.”

Well, this wasn’t the first time an idea he’d thought was reasonably bright turned out to be more dim witted. “Already? You haven’t even given me the chance to prove my worth to you.”

“No chance.” Charissa shook her head. “I want to get it over with.”

Shad studied her as Charissa actually looked over toward the swing set. His gut stirred again. Why? What was it about that choice of words she’d just spoken that he recognized yet couldn’t name? The combination of personal experience and formal training enabled Shad to comprehend the subtleties in all levels of abuse. It was the one aspect of human behavior he had a good grasp on.

Yet those words “get it over with” reverberated in Shad’s memory. Charissa wanted to “get rid” of him, and do so quickly. That was understandable. He was, after all, the big, bad lawyer who was apparently tearing her family apart before its appointed time. But his gut told him there was more. As much as Shad knew, he realized he only knew just enough to suspect he was missing something.

“Will you push me?” Charissa glanced back toward him.

Shad immediately processed her question beyond its face value because he suspected that he was going to have to dig for more than just testimony. But right now his analytical side needed to take a break. It had a way of overshadowing his social obligations, and Shad knew in order to satisfy it, he was going to have to build a rapport with the girl first. His response, however, was still grounded in the underlying complexities of her question.

“Only as much as you need me to.”

Chapter Two

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people.

--Carl Jung

The train station was an easy walk from the park, but Friday afternoons there could be busy, especially in a suburb of St. Louis. Shad didn’t like crowds, but taking the train was infinitely preferable to the alternative of driving for two hours back to Jefferson City. Not only would he and Charissa have the freedom to move around instead of being trapped in a car together, Shad could avoid stressing out over a commonplace activity most people took for granted.

He could operate a combine in an open field of corn, soybeans, or oats with confident ease. Shad could also drive a car on back country roads in relaxed comfort. Traffic in the town of Linn where his office was located could start making him jittery, but the traffic in Jefferson City would almost bring him to his breaking point. Thus there was no way on Earth Shad would even consider trying to negotiate with what seemed like millions of vehicles on the unfamiliar streets or highways of St. Louis. His aversion to crowds in general convinced Shad he was mildly agoraphobic, but the throng at the train station was a lesser evil to him than traffic on the streets.

The train also provided the appeal of granting Charissa a request she’d had for at least the last couple of years. Like most kids she harbored a desire to ride every mode of locomotion available to her, and trains were high on her list. The schedule was accommodating to what Shad needed to accomplish today’s task. Only Eliot Weller’s last minute failure to accompany him had been a drawback.

Charissa took a window seat when they boarded the train, and shortly afterward the diesel engine pulled them away from the station. By the time Shad presented their tickets to the conductor she was ready to explore beyond the scenery that flashed by the window, so he took Charissa to the café car where she could enjoy a bag of pretzels and some apple juice while sitting at one of the tables.

Soon after they sat, Shad noticed that the landscape zipping by their window was suddenly closing in as though the hillside were trying to engulf them.

“We’re coming to a tunnel,” he commented.

“Where?” Even as Charissa turned toward the window the car suddenly became darker. At the same instant her hand knocked against her plastic bottle of juice, tumbling it to its side.

Shad snatched the bottle and set it upright, but since it was nearly full about a fourth of its contents had spilled on the table. He plucked a few napkins from the dispenser under the window and mopped up the juice. As he reached for a couple more napkins to wipe the area dry, Shad noticed that Charissa’s attention was focused on him instead of the dark window. Her eyes were a bit wide again.

“No harm done.” Shad smiled even though there was a slight tremor in his gut. “You’ve still got most of your juice. I’ll throw these away and be right back.”

The train car brightened again as he rose from his seat to walk toward the trash can. As Shad dropped the wet napkins into the container a memory from his early childhood suddenly burst into his conscious thinking.

The event seemed to screen itself in his mind at supersonic speed, yet it left out no detail. Shad could see the clear glass of water that his elbow accidentally struck. Shards and droplets burst in every direction as it crashed to the kitchenette floor. Shad didn’t believe the last flying fragment had yet been overcome by gravity when the boyfriend of that woman who gave birth to Shad swore vehemently and grabbed Shad by the neck to slam the child down on the wet and littered linoleum. Pain shot through Shad’s head as it collided with the surface, momentarily dulling the bite of a glass sliver that pierced his upper arm.