With a grace Kade found beautiful, the woman moved her hands in silent communication. Davey stared but didn’t respond.
“Well, that didn’t work. Davey, can you hear me?”
An eager head bob.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
Davey shrugged, one hand moving to his throat.
“Let’s send him over to the clinic,” Rainmaker said. “Have him checked out. Either he won’t talk for some reason or he can’t.”
Restless in the small office Kade paced from the bulletin board to the boy and back again. Someone had put an automatic air freshener on top of the file cabinet to counter act the smell of burned coffee and stale shoes. Every few minutes, a spurt of fragrance hissed a girly scent into the air. Jesse either had a wife or secretary. No self-respecting cop would buy—Kade squinted at the can—white tea and roses. Smelled pretty good, though.
“Then what happens to him?” he asked.
Rainmaker rounded his desk, a long metal structure overflowing with paperwork. Kade empathized. Paperwork was the bane of cops.
The chief shuffled through some messages, pulled a stack of faxes from the basket. “Nothing on the wires about a missing child in the area, but I’ll make more calls and get the word out. We’ll hear something soon.”
Kade didn’t let it go. Couldn’t. “If you don’t?”
“Child protective services will take over. I’ll have to notify them anyway. Someone is responsible for letting this boy get in this situation. Finding them is my job. Taking care of the child isn’t.”
Kade grunted. Shoulders tense, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He’d told himself the same thing once. It was a lie. Taking care of the kids was everyone’s job.
Ida June, who’d remained amazingly silent for a full ten minutes, piped up in her take-no-guff tone. “We’ll take the boy home with us. No need to call anyone.”
His aunt’s idea took Kade by surprise, but he didn’t object. He wanted to keep an eye on Davey, just as he wanted to find out who’d left him in such a condition. Someone needed to pay big-time. And Kade was in the mood to be the collector.
“Now, Miss Ida June, you know I have to follow the law,” Jesse said patiently.
“Please, Jesse,” Sophie said, voice as sweet as her face. “I’d take him myself, but I have to get to school. I’m already late and an aide is watching my class, but Davey’s too fragile to go with another stranger right now.”
If Rainmaker could resist that face and tone, he was a strong man.
“Girl’s right,” Ida June announced with a slap to the desktop. Davey jumped, blue eyes blinking rapidly. Sophie placed a soothing hand on his knee. “We’ll take Davey to the clinic, me and my nephew here, and then home to clean up. I figure the little man is tuckered plum out. He can rest up for a few hours at my place, and then if you haven’t found his mama and daddy, you can call Howard Prichard.”
Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell you what, Miss Ida June, I’ll give Howard a call and apprise him of the situation. If he agrees, it’s a deal.”
Good luck with that, Kade thought.
“Well, get to it.” Ida June crossed her arms over the front of her overalls. “Time wasted is gone forever and Lord knows, at my age, I can’t afford to lose any.”
Mouth twitching, Jesse made the phone call. When the social worker agreed with Ida June’s plan, Kade was amazed. Small towns worked differently than the city where the letter of the law was followed, regardless. Here, apparently, human beings took precedence over protocol. Interesting.
They prepared to load Davey and his book into Kade’s truck. Ida June had wanted him to ride with her, but Kade and Jesse both said, “No!” with such force that Ida June puffed up like an adder and stalked off. Kade didn’t ride with her. He sure wasn’t putting a child in the truck with her.
“She cut across the street yesterday, slapped a U-turn as if there weren’t cars coming both ways, all because there was a parking spot on the other side.”
Rainmaker nodded sagely. “I think she got her driver’s license out of a cereal box.”
Kade arched an eyebrow. “She has one?”
Both men chuckled.
“Come on, Davey,” Kade said, taking the boy by the hand.
Davey hopped obediently from the chair and reached for Sophie. Her face crumbled. “Oh, honey, I can’t go with you. I have to go to work.”
Davey wrenched away from Kade to throw both arms around Sophie’s middle. With a helpless look toward Kade, she hugged Davey close against a long blue sweater. Kade got a funny kick in the gut and fought off the urge to join the hug fest.
“You’ll come to the house after school.” His was a statement, not a question. He knew she’d come.
She nodded, gray eyes distressed. “I’ll be there right after three.” She held Davey back from her a little, hands on his shoulders. “Do you hear me, Davey? Go with Kade to Miss Ida June’s house. They’ll take good care of you, and as soon as school is out, I’ll be there. We’ll read your book as many times as you want. Okay?”
Looking from her to Kade and back as if he thought the pair of them went together, Davey thought over the proposition. Then, he retrieved the book he’d dropped, clasped Kade’s hand and followed him to the truck.
Sophie’s school day started out shaky, but she, an eternal optimist, was certain things would get better. They didn’t.
After rushing home for a quick clothing change, she arrived to find her class in chaos. Emily Baker had suffered a seizure and had to go to the hospital. Even though everyone knew about Emily’s disorder, witnessing a seizure frightened the class. Even Zoey Bowman, the vet’s daughter whose blindness only increased her compassion and wisdom, had not known how to react. She and best friend, blonde and bouncy Delaney Markham, huddled together holding hands, desks scooted close.
By the time Sophie settled the group down with assurances that Emily was not going to die and a promise to get Mrs. Baker on the speakerphone in a few hours so they all could hear an update for themselves, lunchtime arrived.
“Academics took a backseat this morning,” Carmen, the teacher’s aide, said as she slid her lunch tray onto the cafeteria table next to Sophie. A fortysomething bleached blonde with an extra twenty pounds, Carmen floated between classrooms doing whatever was needed.
“Caring for people is more important sometimes,” Sophie said. She sniffed a forkful of mystery casserole, a combination of tomato and meat scent with sticky pasta in the mix. Or was that rice?
“Don’t say that to Mr. Gruber.”
“I already have.” Sophie jabbed a fork into the glob and took a bite. Not bad. Not good. She reached for the salt and pepper.
“Only
