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smile to Charissa. This would be much easier for the
girl if Eliot were with him to provide her with somebody she knew.
Too bad he didn’t have the option to pull his wife Dulsie out from
her job to tag along. Dulsie would still be a stranger to Charissa,
but at least Dulsie had a winning personality and a shared gender
with the child. If nothing else, Shad was certainly more at ease
whenever Dulsie was around.
    “Or would you rather talk about what’s going
on?” Sure, he was trying to obtain additional testimony, but Shad
also recognized the value of allowing Charissa to speak her
concerns.
    Charissa’s grip on the pack tightened for a
second, but then her eyes seemed less wide. “You don’t look like a
lawyer.”
    Shad’s response was deadpan. “I’m traveling
in disguise.”
    He was conscientious of speaking the truth,
even in jest. Shad had purposefully worn tan slacks and a sage,
short-sleeved, button-down shirt because a suit might be
intimidating to the child. He also didn’t want to look “official”
to others as he (and Eliot, originally) escorted Charissa back to
her home. Besides, Shad hated wearing suits and welcomed any
opportunity to eschew them.
    The girl seemed to consider his answer for a
minute before speaking again. “How much money you gonna make?”
    If ever there was a question he hadn’t
expected her to ask, that would be it. It was Shad’s turn to stare
at Charissa with some bemusement before he responded.
    “Why do you want to know?”
    “Dad said you’re hauling me away only because
you figured out a way to make a bunch of money.”
    Demetri Simms’s evaluation fell in line with
what most people, Shad included, thought about lawyers. But Shad’s
motivation for tackling a situation other attorneys had dismissed
had nothing to do with money and everything to do with ... justice.
And it had been his thirst for justice that had driven him to this
occupation. Distilling the complexities to the level of a
five-year-old, however, wasn’t going to be easy.
    “I’m not here for the money.” Shad leaned
forward, propped his elbows on his knees, and rested his chin on
clasped hands. “I’m also not hauling you away. I’m taking you
home.”
    Charissa regarded him with unwavering
wariness. “I don’t have a home back –” She seemed to reconsider her
choice of words but couldn’t settle upon an appropriate substitute
quickly enough. “– home.”
    “Did somebody tell you that?”
    Charissa finally stopped looking at him and
lowered her head to study the day pack. Her slender, tanned fingers
kneaded at the hanging loop on top.
    Had she been coached, or more likely
threatened, not to say too much? The last thing he could risk was
pushing too hard, which luckily Shad was better at catching himself
when working with kids than adults.
    “How do you feel about going back to see your
mom?”
    Charissa looked back up at him, and for the
split second that Shad met her eyes he thought he noticed a flash
in them.
    “Why do you care?”
    If only Eliot hadn’t run off to save that
mare there wouldn’t be so much antagonism to deal with. Charissa’s
father had probably done his best to fuel the fire against her
mother’s attempts to regain their daughter.
    “I have every reason to care.” Shad drew
another deep breath as he tried to collect his thoughts. Details
were no challenge to him, but trying to distill them to others was
much more difficult. “Or rather, you see....” He leaned against the
backrest of the bench and stretched one arm across the top, still
struggling to come up with the right words. “Let’s put it this way.
Your mom hired me. But I’m not working for your mom to make money.
I’m not even working for her just so she can get you back. I don’t
–” Shad caught himself. He was about to say “I don’t care about
your mom,” and this was the wrong level to make that statement. He
leaned forward again. “The only reason I decided to work for your
mom