going on with you and Bubba?”
Rico always tried to be honest and today he didn’t shy away from that. “He and Miss Doris object to my friendship with Anamarie.”
“Anamarie, huh? I didn’t see that one coming and—” he held up a hand “—I’m not getting involved. But give Bubba a chance. He’ll come around. That’s the type of guy he is.”
Rico didn’t get a chance to respond as Bubba shouted from somewhere in the jail, “Wyatt, I’m clocking out.”
“Okay,” Wyatt called back. “But hang tight. I might need you some more today.”
“Will do.”
Rico was through with small talk. He needed to know what had happened at Mrs. Miller’s.
“Wendy has passed away, probably night before last,” Wyatt said before Rico could ask anything.
“That means Dustin was alone for two nights and a day.”
“The funeral home is picking up the body and Stuart is over there getting all the information. I talked to Mrs. Waring, who lives next door, and she said Wendy had pneumonia and the doctor wanted to put her in the hospital, but she refused because she didn’t have anywhere to leave Dustin.”
“What kind of neighbor is she that she didn’t offer to help?”
Wyatt glanced at Rico. “She’s eighty-five years old and uses a walker. There’s no way she could handle a four-year-old.”
“Sorry, the thought of that little boy walking around during the night looking for food just gets to me.”
“Mrs. Waring also said that Dustin’s mother is still in prison for drug use. There is a sister, but as I recall Darlene and Connie are not on good terms. Connie didn’t take Dustin when Darlene went to prison, so I’m guessing she’s not going to want him now. I’ll leave that up to CPS.”
“A four-year-old couldn’t have been easy for Mrs. Miller.”
“She was fifty-two years old, Rico, but had a lot of health problems. She was a heavy smoker and had COPD and used an inhaler every day, so yeah it probably wasn’t easy.”
Another place. Another time. A great-grandmother had accepted a four-year-old into her life and it had changed that little boy forever. Would Dustin be that lucky?
“I have to call CPS to find a home for Dustin until they can locate the aunt or a relative who will take him.”
“They’ll put him in foster care.” Rico’s stomach clenched. The words created a bad taste in his mouth and he knew he had to do something. “Wyatt, can I ask a favor?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll take him until they find someone.”
Wyatt leaned back his chair. “Rico, that’s very admirable of you, but I have to be honest. CPS will do a thorough background check before they place Dustin in your care. And you know what that means.”
“My record.”
“Yeah.”
“My record was supposed to be expunged. Will I have to pay for it the rest of my life? I’m a model citizen and you know that.” Rico looked at his friend. “You would vouch for me, wouldn’t you? To keep Dustin from being put into the system?”
“Rico.” Wyatt sighed. “I’d trust you with my own kids, but this is CPS. They have rules and have to cross their t’s and dot their i’s. I’m sorry, that’s just the way it is.”
“Then why is there so much abuse and neglect in foster homes?”
Wyatt shrugged.
“I can offer Dustin a home for now. I never take any vacation and I know Miss Kate and Falcon will give me some days off. Dustin needs someone to be there for him. One-on-one. Not a household full of kids. I can help him through this. I’ve been through it.” He stared into the sheriff’s eyes. “Don’t let me down. Don’t let Dustin down.”
“Rico...”
A loud wail sounded from the jail cell and Rico bounded for the door. Dusty was sitting up crying at the top of his lungs. Mickey barked just as loud. Rico quickly gathered the howling boy into his arms and said, “Hey, hey, buddy. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Dusty buried his face into Rico’s chest. “I want my grandma. I want my grandma.”
“You have to tell him,” Wyatt whispered, standing in the doorway.
“I know.”
“I can do it, if you’d rather.”
“No, I just need a few minutes.”
“I’m going to talk to CPS.”
He held Dusty a little tighter and the boy drifted off to sleep again. Rico couldn’t do this alone. He needed help. There was only one person he wanted with him. He fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Anamarie:
I need help telling Dusty his grandmother has died. Do you have time?
In a second he got a text back: I’ll be right there.
The weight on his shoulders lifted a little.
Dusty stirred and looked up at Rico. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“My real name is Jericho, but everyone calls me Rico.”
Dustin touched the scar on Rico’s face. “How did you get that?”
“In a fight.”
“Did you win?”
“Yeah.” Sort of.
“Can you take me home now?”
“We need to talk first, buddy.”
“Why?”
Rico heard the front door open and soon Anamarie was in the cell. Her face was slightly flushed, as if she’d run there.
She sat beside them. “Hi, Dusty. Look what I brought you.” She handed him a sippy cup of milk.
“Thank you. I have to pay you for it.”
“No, no, you don’t. You’ve already paid me. Remember?”
Dusty sipped at the milk. “’Kay,” he mumbled.
Rico looked at Anamarie for guidance. He didn’t know how to start the conversation, but he knew he had to. Dusty took it out of his hands.
“I want my grandma.”
Rico’s arms wrapped around the boy and he struggled for words. The right words. “The sheriff checked on your grandmother and...she went
