“It’s been eight.”
“Oh, my.” The woman bit her lower lip. “Can I get your name?”
“Roxanne Cannon.” Roxie efficiently whipped out a copy of the form from her purse.
The clerk adjusted her glasses on her nose. “I really am sorry. Let me dig into this and—”
“Is there a problem here?”
Both Roxie and Billy took a step back when the clerk was interrupted by a sour-faced, pencil-thin man who’d popped into the doorway of the one actual office in the suite.
“No problem,” the clerk said. “They just have some questions about late paperwork.”
The same evaluating look crossed the man’s face as he studied the two of them, only there was no softening of his expression. “Late paperwork?” he asked, his voice clipped.
Billy took an immediate disliking to the man and his bad comb-over. He’d run into the guy’s type time and time again. Tamping down old frustrations, he nodded at Roxie. “She’s been waiting for eight weeks.”
Roxie smiled at the office dictator in a way that was about as real as those plants down on the first floor. “I’ve tried calling and emailing, but your office has been unresponsive, Mister…”
She lifted her eyebrows enquiringly.
“Fenton. Albert Fenton.” He touched the knot on his pea green tie. “Manager.”
Sure, throw the title on there to show people how important you are.
“Please,” he said. “Come into my office.”
“Oh.” Roxie looked at the clerk whose fingers were already flying across the keyboard. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I was hoping to just pick up a copy here in person.”
“No, no. If you’ve been having problems with my staff, I want to hear about it.”
Billy shrugged when Roxie threw a glance back at him. He didn’t want to spend any more time here than necessary, either. He looked down at the clerk, but her hands were now in her lap and she was shooting a fearful look at her boss’s office.
She didn’t seem like an alternative anymore.
Billy swore underneath his breath. Together, they followed the manager into his office. It was as plain as the cubicles outside it. The walls were tan, the carpeting was beige, and the desk was brown. He sat down in an uncomfortable chair next to Roxie. When she tossed a glare at him, he sat up straighter. Damn, but being here brought back bad memories.
“Now,” Fenton said as he tucked away some papers. “You say you haven’t received prompt service from my office?”
“I filed a Form 19-SS/A two months ago,” Roxie said. “I was in foster care from the age of two until I was sixteen and I recently found my sisters—”
“Two months,” he repeated, his brow knitting.
She pulled back in surprise, but went with it. “I’ve called and I’ve emailed, but I haven’t been able to get a response.”
Fenton’s pinched face turned even more dour.
“I’m quite unhappy to hear this.” He held out his hand for the copies of the paperwork. “Let me see who’s been handling this request.”
Billy cleared his throat. “We really don’t want to point fingers. We just want the files that Roxie is due.”
Fenton’s mouth pinched, and the way he shifted in his seat, it didn’t look like that was the only thing puckering. “If someone is falling down on the job, I need to take steps to correct it.”
Roxie drummed her fingers on the armrest as the man began to hunt and peck on a desktop computer that looked about ten years old. “I appreciate that, but I’m really anxious for the results. You see, the sisters that I found? We’re more than full-blood; we’re identical triplets.”
Fenton waved his hand, his focus on the monitor. “The details are immaterial. All Forms 19-SS/A should be handled in the same manner.”
Immaterial? Billy rocked forward in his chair, but Roxie bar-armed him to hold him back.
“They were both adopted, by different families,” she continued.
Fenton squinted and lifted his glasses. “Is that a nine or a four?”
Billy’s fingers wrapped around the arms of the chair. For the love of God.
A tap came at the door, and the manager looked up.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Fenton.” It was the mousy clerk. “It’s noon. Since you’re handling this, I’ll be taking my lunch now.”
Fenton looked at his watch. Picking up his pen, he marked the time down on a notebook. “It’s 12:02, Carol. Be back on time.”
Billy’s eyes narrowed. Who the hell had put this guy in charge?
“Now, where was I?” Fenton slid his finger down the paper.
“It’s a four,” Roxie said sharply. “A four.”
He squinted again. “Why, yes, I believe you’re right.”
In the end, it wasn’t the runaround they ran into; it was bureaucracy. There was only so much of that Billy could take, but his patience far outlived Roxie’s. She’d done well, really well, but he’d seen the cracks forming. When she’d looked ready to pluck the five remaining hairs off the manager’s pointy little head, he took over. They left a copy of her form with the man, along with her cell number and email address.
“I’m never going to get those files,” Roxie growled as they waited at the elevator.
“Yes, you will. We’ll keep at him. Work within the system, babe. Remember?”
They’d never gotten anywhere trying to fight it. They’d had to find ways to work inside it—like when they’d convinced that judge they would only run away together if he didn’t give his consent on the marriage license. And they’d promised that Roxie would stay in school…
“He probably has the answers sitting right there in that dusty computer.”
“You don’t know that,” Billy warned. “Don’t bet too much on this. If it was a closed adoption, there might not be anything they can give you, Form XYZ or not.”
She turned on him so fast, her hair flew around her shoulders.
He held up his hands. “I know it’s not what you want to hear.”
The elevator finally arrived, and he tugged her into the car. She shot daggers at the uncooperative office until the doors closed.
“Billy,” she said forlornly, turning into him.
He wrapped his arms around her. She tucked her face against his neck, and he rubbed his chin against her soft hair. Drug dealers and slumlords suddenly seemed like nothing compared to ineffective bureaucrats.
“It will be okay, baby. We’ll get whatever they have, I promise.”
She sighed. Her disappointment and dejection made the air in the elevator feel like a two-ton weight.
“Places like this still knot me up inside,” she whispered. “I thought I could handle it, but the feel of that place? The smell? It took me right back to those times when I had to sit on one of those hard wooden chairs while people talked about me like I wasn’t even there. I felt trapped… overlooked…”
He tightened his hold. “Maybe Maxie or Lexie can get their guys to put some pressure on them.”
Even as he said the words, Billy’s teeth started to grit. He knew how she felt, because he was feeling exactly the same way. Powerless. Ineffective.
The autumn air was crisp as they left the building. They started down the long line of steps to the truck, and Roxie winced.
“Damn it.” Letting go of the railing, she unzipped her boots and took them off. Throwing back her head, she let the wind lift her hair. When she lowered her chin again, a good chunk of the anger was gone.
Barefoot, she began walking down the steps. Her toenails were painted red to match her lips, but that concrete had to be freezing.
“Here,” he said, moving towards her.
She held up one finger in warning.
He backed off.
Carrying her boots at her side, she headed dejectedly for the pickup. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Billy followed.
He’d had a gut instinct that things wouldn’t go well here, but he’d hoped he’d
be wrong. He searched for something else to say, anything that might soothe her. He had nothing.
Off in the distance, he heard a starter grind.
He turned his head, instinctively searching out the sound. An engine growled, but never quite turned over. A little engine, nothing big-sized. He zeroed in on the old Camry sitting in the middle of the lot. It coughed and sputtered, but the driver wasn’t giving up hope.
“Rox,” he called. He tossed her the keys to the rental. “Go on ahead. I’m going to see if I can help.”
It was what he did. He might not have the inside track on anything like Lexie’s boyfriend or sway with the legal system like Maxie’s, but he knew his way around engines.
His eyes narrowed, though, when he neared the sedan. Well, didn’t that just take the cake?
The driver recognized him at the same time that he recognized her, and her eyes widened. When he gave the universal signal to roll down her window, she seemed hesitant.
He raised his voice instead. “Pop the hood.”
“He’s a mechanic.” Roxie was suddenly at his side. “A good one.”
The mousy clerk finally rolled down her window. Her lips were flat with worry, and she smoothed her monotone hair back into its clip. “It’s been acting up on me lately.”
Billy moved to the front of the car. “Let’s take a look.”
Fumbling under the steering wheel, the clerk finally found the latch. She got out of the car as he started looking over everything. Moving to stand next to Roxie, she folded her arms over the taupe raincoat she wore. Everything about the woman was plain and colorless from her hair to her clothes to her car.
Next to Roxie, she practically disappeared.
Still, Billy kept an eye on both of them as he started going over the engine.
“I’m Carol. Sorry about Mr. Fenton,” she said to Roxie.
“He seems like a real douche.”
The clerk blushed and glanced up at the window to her office.
“He is,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Still, we have to work under some pretty strict rules. Process and confidentiality are important, especially when abuse or neglect are present. Sometimes people are separated for good reason.”
Billy watched Roxie. She turned a bit pale at that statement.
“I suppose.” She shivered and hurried to put on her boots again. “That’s why I’m trying to figure out what happened.”
Carol rubbed her arms. “Is it true what you said up there? That identical triplets were separated?”
“Mmm hmm.” Swinging her purse off her shoulder, Roxie pulled out a folder. Thumbing through it, she finally found a photograph. It was of her, Maxie, and Lexie in Indigo Falls. There weren’t any pictures of them together as kids.
Carol took the picture, careful to hold it by its edges. “Oh my. You do look alike.”
“And we have the DNA to prove it.” Roxie waved another piece of paper, but then her shoulders slumped. “I was hoping we could find out more information about why we were split up or where we came from.”
“I’m sorry. There are limits to what we can share and when.” Carol chewed on her lower lip. “I’d have to see the 19-SS/A to determine what information we could provide.”
Roxie sighed. “Fenton doesn’t seem interested in getting me what I need. He just wants to know who dropped the ball.”
“Would it help if I looked into things this afternoon?”
“Help?” Roxie immediately perked up. “That would be great.”
Billy braced his hands against the car’s grill. “I don’t have any tools with me.”
“I think my husband has some in the trunk.” Carol hit a button on her key fob to unlock the back end.
The tools Billy found were rudimentary, but he’d made do with less.
Carol passed the picture back to Roxie and glanced again at the fourth floor window. “When did you say you were separated?”
“My sisters were adopted twenty-six years ago. They were two years old at the time. Why?”
The clerk shook her head. “It’s probably nothing.”
“What?”
“I really shouldn’t be telling you this,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, “but I took a call to our office recently.”
Billy felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up, but he kept his head bent over the engine.
Roxie turned towards the woman, blocking the view from the office window. She’d sensed the same change in the air that he did. “About what?”
“Please know that he didn’t fill out any confidentiality agreements. It was an unsolicited call, so I’m not bound to keep anything secret.”
Roxie bobbed her head. “All right.”
Carol smoothed back her hair. “The caller was looking for information on adoptions that took place in about that same time frame.”
“For triplets?”
“He said three sisters. I didn’t let him get much further than that before I told him he’d need to fill out the proper paperwork.”
“He?”
“Yes, the voice was male.”
The wrench Billy was holding wasn’t moving. He was barely breathing. He didn’t even have to look to see if Roxie’s foot was rocked back on its heel. Her hair would be wild about now, her eyes big and bright.
“Did he give you a name? Did he sound old? Young? Did he say why he was looking?”
“I didn’t take a name. It’s not proper procedure. Please don’t get too excited.”
“I won’t,” Roxie promised. “It’s just that we’ve had so little to go on.”
“This is probably an entirely different case. The only reason I brought it up was because the caller did indicate that the sisters he was looking for had gone through separate adoptions. But didn’t you say you remained in foster care?” Carol pulled her raincoat together around her throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“But you did, because you had a feeling.” Roxie’s energy was vibrating all around them, but Carol was acting more and more anxious. She kept looking at the fourth floor and trying to hide behind her car’s raised hood.
“How long ago was this?” Roxie pressed.
“A month. Maybe two.”
“Do you remember anything else? Did you give this guy any information?”
The clerk rubbed her forehead as if it was aching. “I typically refer callers to a website that reconnects people. That’s about all I can do without the right forms.”
With quick movements, Roxie pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse. “Write it down. Please, write down the website.”
Billy waited until the transfer was made before stepping in. “Could you try the engine again?”
“Oh!” Carol said, hopping back a step. She’d forgotten he was there. Flustered, she slid into the driver’s seat. When she turned the key, the engine growled, but then purred.
Billy nodded. That’s what he’d figured.
He closed the hood and put away the tools. He was wiping his hands as he walked back to the driver’s side of the car. “I cleaned the connections on your battery, but I think you have a low charge. You should get that checked out as soon as possible.”
Carol looked relieved. “A battery. I think we can afford that. Thank you.”
Billy glanced at Roxie. She was beaming. “No, thank you.”
The woman pulled out of the lot as he and Roxie made their way to the truck. She was over the moon, hugging his arm and bouncing along in boots that had been too painful only minutes ago. Billy tried to shake off the uneasiness he felt. “Don’t get too excited about this,” he warned. “It’s a long shot.”
“Not as long as you think.” She threw her head back and laughed. “Since the new moon… Ingrid had her timing wrong. I hadn’t met Carol yet.”
Billy frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind.” With a wide smile, she broke into a run. She clamored up into the truck and he followed along, his worry grow
ing.
“Roxie,” he said as he climbed behind the steering wheel. “You can’t—”
“Oh, but I can,” she chuckled as she swung her leg over his lap and straddled him.
“God damn…” Billy struggled to find room and not set off the horn as a wiggling mass of hot woman settled over him.
The kiss she planted on him had him searching for ways to darken the windows. His fingers sank into her slim hips as her tongue swept across his.
“It’s the same website I’ve been visiting, the National Adoption Registry,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s all coming together.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Maxie’s boyfriend that called? Isn’t he a cop?”
She hesitated, but then began pecking kisses along his jaw line. “He knows that all of us weren’t adopted.”
But she didn’t seem to care.
“Or that investigator Lexie’s guy hired?”
The nibble on his ear turned into a groan. “Could you not bring up Hatchet Man right now?”
She had a good point. The hell if he knew why he was trying to dissuade her—from the kissing and the snuggling, at least. He knew why he was trying to bring her down from the artificial high she was on.
He didn’t want her hurt. He knew all too well what it was like to get your hopes up and then have them dashed.
He fisted his hands in her hair and pulled her back into the kiss. It slowed down, getting hot and heavy. Slow and delicious.
Billy’s heart was thudding and his cock was throbbing when he finally pulled back. “Want to go home and get online?”
He might have taken it personally the way she hopped off his lap if he hadn’t just felt how hard her nipples were rubbing against his chest.
“Yes!” she crowed, slapping her seatbelt into its holder.
He put the truck in gear. He hoped something good awaited her, whether it was from the clerk’s input or from Fenton finally getting his act in gear. She was more excited than he could ever remember seeing her—only it wasn’t because she was nearing answers.
She was happy because maybe, just maybe, someone was finally looking for her.
Chapter Eleven
Roxie Page 15
