LITMIR.BIZ

      TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

       AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

       STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

       PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      CHAPTER ONE

      “MS. MCNEIL, your daughter spit at her teacher. We don’t tolerate things like that at Tyler Elementary.”

      After one quick exchange of glances with her eight-year-old daughter, Juliet McNeil understood that Mary Jane’s story was different from the principal’s. She fought the feeling of dread seeping through her. If Mrs. Cummings kicked Mary Jane out, Juliet’s child would be facing the fourth new school in her brief, three-year educational career.

      “Mary Jane will apologize to her teacher,” she said for the third time that Friday morning. “And she and I will speak more about this when we get home.”

      The woman leaned forward, not a strand of her clearly dyed reddish-brown hair moving out of place. Probably didn’t dare to. “I hesitate to say this in front of the child, Ms. McNeil…”

      Juliet looked at the raised face of her simple but elegant gold watch, trying to distract herself from the panic that threatened to make her sound harsher than she intended.

      “Anything you have to say to me regarding Mary Jane can be said in front of her,” she said calmly. That calm was hard to come by when what she wanted to do was yell. Or cry. “I try not to hide things from my daughter and it seems to work well for us.”

      Mary Jane had only been in this San Diego public school since the January semester change, and after two months the writing was already on the wall. The child was too intelligent for her own good, a free spirit, too outspoken—all of which made it hard for her to fit in with other kids her age.

      She also had a father who didn’t know she existed.

      “Yes, well, then.” The principal turned from Juliet to the fine-boned child sitting in a vinyl chair next to her mother, her skinny legs, mostly covered by an ankle-length denim skirt, sticking straight out in front of her. Mary Jane, her hands folded across her stomach and her short dark hair a riot of curls framing her cherub cheeks, looked the epitome of innocence. And in Juliet’s opinion, that was exactly what she was.

      “The thing is, Ms. McNeil,” the woman started again a full thirty seconds later, “I’m not so sure these talks you have with your child are doing much good. Nor do I think a simple apology will do it this time.”

      “Spitting was wrong, I agree,” Juliet said in a conciliatory tone. As a private defense attorney, she’d had a lot of experience reading jurors’ faces. Mrs. Cummings had already made up her mind on this one. Juliet brushed an auburn curl over her shoulder and continued anyway. “It’s also not something Mary Jane has ever done before. I wonder, has anyone asked her about the incident?”

      The older woman, her forehead creased in a clear expression of impatience, said, “Yes, I have the complete report from Mrs. Thacker.”

      “What reason did Mary Jane give for spitting at her teacher?”

      A heavy sigh came from the seat next to Juliet. Her daughter’s ankle-length black boots bobbed. Juliet didn’t dare look over. She couldn’t afford the distraction.

      She also didn’t have time to find another school right now.

      But even without that look of confirmation from her daughter earlier, Juliet couldn’t believe Mary Jane would really do such a thing. Drop something and break it, spill something, trip over something, probably. But spit at her teacher? The child was never deliberately mean.

      “She spit on her teacher!” Mrs. Cummings said. “I really think the reason is irrelevant.”

      “Maybe.”

      Mary Jane could take the truth, but she was still a child. Her feelings could be hurt by thoughtless adults passing judgment without knowledge or understanding.

      “Do you mind if we just ask her?” The whisper brush of hose against hose as Juliet crossed one ankle over the other sounded loud. “The first amendment to the Constitution of this country states that everyone has a right to a trial.”

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