by Nolan Thomas
This morning her mom had come back. But just as her mom reached for the car door, she fell over, shaking and jerking in the street. Riley jumped from the car and screamed for help in the deserted alley. She watched in horror as foam streamed from her mother’s mouth. When the shaking stopped, Riley knew her mother had died.
“Today is your lucky day, sweetie,” Regina yellow-smiled. “I have a wonderful place for you.”
Fear grabbed Riley. When she and her mom were able to live in an apartment, Riley saw lots of TV shows about kids in horrible foster homes with mean people who only wanted money from the government.
Pushing against the arms of the chair to free her hips, Regina stood, grabbed her purse, and hung it from her left forearm, positioned as in a sling. She pulled Riley by the hand and headed for the DCFS main entrance.
With so much noise and activity, no one noticed Regina leaving the office with the small blond girl, or the soon-to-be-missing Sinclair file.
KATHRYN DIXON NEEDED children in order to compromise, blackmail, and coerce powerful lobbyists. Regina had access to a steady supply of children, and didn’t ask questions. A most suitable symbiotic relationship.
Dixon waited for Regina on their designated bench in a secluded area of the park. Her sources had identified Regina as a classic narcissist. The report stated: “Target demonstrates signs of extreme self-involvement and lack of interest in, and empathy for, others. Target fails to see things from any point of view other than her own. When needed, Target is able to eliminate fear and conscience long enough to pursue any means to an end.”
This personality disorder, coupled with a low-paying job working with children already on the fringe of society, paved the way for Dixon to buy the desired product. Dixon had surveilled Regina for a month before she made her move. When Dixon had asked Regina what she did for a living Regina responded, “I work my ass off for a salary that barely pays the bills. I get to see and deal with some of the major scum of the earth, and as an added bonus, no one appreciates a damn thing I do.”
Perfect! It had taken a few more meetings, but details were soon worked out. Dixon provided Regina with money and a story about the children going to good adoptive homes. The errant social worker handed over children without questioning or verifying any details.
Regina lumbered up the path with the child walking next to her. Even though disheveled and terrified, anyone could see Riley was a beauty.
Dixon thought a little time with her new Aunt Dixie would erase those fears and transform Riley into the perfect commodity.
8
RILEY’S NEW FOSTER MOTHER, KATHRYN Dixon, didn’t ask a lot of questions, and that was a good thing. The car ride from the park had been pretty quiet. The Washington Monument and DC traffic vanished behind them. Soon they drove through farm country. Riley had only seen farms on television.
The sun began its descent. This long day had started with her mother’s death, but it didn’t feel real to her. When she thought of her mother she wanted to cry, but she was afraid to. What would this woman do to her? Sometimes adults smacked kids to make them stop crying.
The car slowed as they pulled onto a gravel driveway. The house wasn’t visible from the road, but Riley saw it now. A red-brick, two-story house grew larger as they drove up the driveway. Lush trees, flowers, and a thick green lawn surrounded the house. A red barn stood not far away. Some of the paint had worn off, yet it didn’t look run down. Riley thought it looked cool. The car pulled into a garage attached to the house.
Scared yet excited, Riley unfastened her seat belt and jumped out. Dixon unlocked the door to the house and stepped inside. She pushed some numbers on a key pad next to the door. Riley had seen this on an episode of CSI and knew it was a security system.
They walked into a small laundry room. The next door opened into a beautiful kitchen, unlike anything Riley had ever seen, except on TV.
“Come in, Riley. This is your new home.”
Tears formed in Riley’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. This was the best day of her life and the worst day all rolled together. She was so sad her mother couldn’t move into this house with her. Why did people wait until her mother died to do something nice for her? She tried to brush the tears away before the foster mother could see them. She didn’t want to get in trouble.
But her foster mother saw the tears and put her arms around Riley.
“That’s all right sweetheart. I know you miss her. Your mother is an angel now. I believe she’s right here with you, and is very happy you’re safe with me.”
Buried in her foster mother’s arms, Riley heard a strange clicking sound. As she turned in the direction of the sound she felt a funny pressure at her waist. The foster mother let go, and Riley discovered the cutest dog in the entire universe standing on his hind legs with his front paws on Riley, wagging his tail.
Riley gleefully petted the dog. His face looked like a Teddy bear, his fur a cuddly blend of beige and brown and white all mixed together in a soft and fluffy treat for her hands.
“What’s his name?” she asked while she continued to sit on the floor and pet him.
“Rocky.”
“Oh how perfect! I was afraid he might have a lame name life Fluffy or something.”
Riley had seen Rocky movies on TV. She loved the name. This cute little dog could use a tough name.
“Rocky loves kids. I hope you don’t mind that this little guy will probably want to sleep with you.”
Riley looked at her foster mother with all the wonder of a child on Christmas morning.
“Mind? I’d love it!” she squealed as Rocky showered her face with doggie-kisses.
Dixon walked across the kitchen and retrieved a platter of homemade peanut butter cookies, which she placed on the kitchen table. Then she went to the refrigerator and extracted an ice-cold carton of milk, poured a glass, and placed the glass on the table as well.
“You must be starved. Why don’t you have a couple of cookies to tide you over while I make us something to eat?”
Riley walked over to the table, delighted that Rocky followed her, wagging his tail the entire way. When she sat down, Rocky sat down on the floor next to the chair, looking up at her.
“He likes you. Just don’t feed him anything. He gets dog food only.”
Riley munched the cookies as her new foster mother cooked supper. She missed her mom, but liked thinking of her as an angel right here with her. Her mom always promised they would get a dog when things got better for them. Maybe her mom brought Rocky here for her.
Riley thought it was unfair that Rocky couldn’t have a cookie. Her new foster mother told her not to feed Rocky, but she didn’t say anything about Rocky eating food that had dropped on the floor. She broke off a piece of the cookie, made sure the coast was clear, and let go. Rocky snapped it up, gulped it down, smiled, and wagged his tail.
After dinner, her new foster mother showed Riley the rest of the house. The living room looked like one of those on HGTV, complete with comfy-looking sofas covered with colorful pillows.
“Excuse me ma’am, but do you have a TV set?”
“Of course I do, Riley. It’s in that cabinet right over there,” she said, pointing to a cherry wood cabinet.
“Cable?” Riley asked, closing her eyes, and crossing her fingers.
“Yes, there’s cable,” she chuckled. “We live in the country, not the middle of nowhere. Let’s go upstairs and see your room.”
Your room. Had she heard correctly? Riley never had a room of her own, not even when they had an apartment. The pull-out sofa turned into their bed.
They headed up the stairs with Rocky following at their heels. When they got to the top of the stairs, her new foster mother pointed to a room.
“This is my room. You’re right next door.”
They stepped through the next doorway, and Riley stood in the most beautiful room she could possibly imagine. White furniture sat against yellow walls and rested on soft, white carpeting. She enter
ed further into the room and peeked around the corner. There sat the most perfect bed in the entire world, with a puffy, flower-garden comforter. The bed had four posts and a canopy that matched the bedspread. It took Riley’s breath away.
“Do you like it?”
Riley could only nod.
Her new foster mother guided her to two doors in the room. She opened the first door. Riley saw a closet filled with jeans, sweaters, blouses, dresses, and shoes.
“Here are your clothes. We can return anything that doesn’t fit, or that you don’t like. Your caseworker described you to me. I guessed your size.”
She opened the next door, revealing an attached bathroom.
“I saved the best for last.”
She walked Riley over to the dresser, which had drawers on the bottom and two doors on top. The new foster mother opened the doors revealing a TV set.
“It’s all for you, Riley. This is your new home.”
Riley looked around, stunned, trying to take it all in. My mother died just this morning? The police? That yucky lady at DCFS? A foster mother? All just today?
“You have to be tired, sweetheart. Why don’t you take a shower and get ready for bed?”
Her new foster mother went over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pink pajamas, then went to the closet and took out a pink terry cloth bathrobe with matching slippers. She delightedly handed the nightwear to Riley who up until this point had only worn one of her mom’s T-shirts to bed. When they moved to the car, she slept with her clothes on.
The foster mother stood in the doorway. “I’ll be back later to tuck you in.” She pulled the door closed.
Riley’s heart ached. She fell on the bed and cried for a long time. Rocky cuddled next to her as sobs eventually turned into whimpers, which gave way to exhaustion. She forced herself to get up and shower. It felt good. When Riley came out of the bathroom, Rocky was on the bed. His tail wagged as she walked towards him. She sat on the bed next to Rocky.
“I miss my mom, Rocky. Do you miss your mom?”
Her foster mother knocked lightly on the door as she came in.
“Ready for bed?”
“Yes,” Riley yawned. She was too tired to watch TV, even though she hadn’t seen Jimmy Kimmel for ages.
She pulled the covers back while Riley crawled under them. Once Riley got comfortable, Rocky turned around in circles on the bed, digging at the comforter. Satisfied that he had the perfect spot, he plopped down and cuddled up next to her.
“Thank you so much for everything, Miss Dixon.”
“You are so welcome, Riley, but you don’t have to call me Miss Dixon. I know you miss your mother terribly, and no one could ever take her place. But if you feel comfortable, my friends call me Dixie.” She raised her eyebrows as if the thought had just occurred to her. “Why don’t you call me Aunt Dixie?”
Riley considered this. Her new foster mother was so nice to her, and Riley liked the idea of having an aunt.
Kathryn Dixon bent down and kissed Riley’s forehead.
Riley smiled up at her.
“Good night, Aunt Dixie.”
9
CASEY CAME HOME FOR LUNCH and found Billy parked in front of the TV set with a bag of chips in his lap, sipping from a can of Coke. He grinned at her when she walked in.
“Research break,” Billy said.
She kicked her heels off, sat down next to him, and reached her hand into the bag. Pulling out a chip, she started talking while still holding it, waving the chip for emphasis as she spoke. For some reason he couldn’t explain, Billy found this endearing. It wasn’t unusual for Casey to become so engrossed in whatever she was talking about that she would leave the food in limbo. On a few occasions, Billy found himself actually timing how long it would take the food to make it to her mouth. God, he had missed her.
Pointing at him with the chip still intact, Casey asked, “Now that you’ve been here for two full days, how’s it going? Is the office working out for you?”
“Couldn’t be better. I’m making good headway on my research.”
“That’s good news.”
She crunched the chip between her teeth. Billy chuckled. He forgot to time how long she held the chip before eating it. No problem—it wasn’t even close to a record.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’m just happy to be here.”
“I’m happy you’re here too.”
Casey got up and headed for the kitchen.
“I’ve got to grab some lunch and get back to work. Can I make you a sandwich or something?”
“No. But thanks for the offer. I’m going to be heading out soon. I’ll just grab some fast food and eat in the car on the way.”
Billy’s Jeep served as a traveling office, dining room, and occasional hotel room all rolled into one. It was clean, but messy. He kept empty cans and carry-out food bags to a minimum, but it always had an abundance of stuff: maps, books, phone, laptop, umbrella, and a duffel bag with toiletries and clothes to last three days.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to see if I can talk with Riley and her mom again.”
“How come?” Casey asked as she pulled the fixings for a sandwich from the fridge.
“Riley’s an amazing kid. I’d like to get more day-by-day, hour-by-hour detail of her life. This whole series is still in its infancy, but I’m thinking about a day-in-the-life sort of thing. Same day, but from the perspective of a lot of different people. What do you think?”
“I think you might be on to something. I like that angle.”
Billy waved and headed out the door. “See you later.”
Casey called out, “Be careful.”
10
BILLY LOWERED THE WINDOWS IN his granite-colored Jeep Wrangler and headed out. During the interview, Jessica had told him where she parked her car. He had mentioned he might stop by for some follow-up. She was okay with that.
He found a parking spot on the street close to the alley where Jessica and Riley lived. Jessica had said there were several cars in the alley, but hers was the greyish-green 1996 Impala. She had explained it was pretty beat up, but the locks worked, so it made for good sleeping, and the cops were good about not hassling them.
Billy walked down the alley and spotted the Impala. He pulled the small notebook from his pocket and double checked the location Jessica had given him. This was the place. The car appeared to be empty, but he could see a mound of blankets in the back so it was possible one or both of them were asleep in the backseat. He knocked on the window.
“What you knockin’ on that car window for?” a voice called out.
Billy turned and saw a man sitting close to the garbage bins. A large plastic bag sat next to him. It appeared to be filled with clothes and bedding—most likely everything he had in the world. Filthy, he reeked of alcohol and garbage. No way to tell how old he was. His matted beard and hair covered most of his face.
“I’m looking for Jessica. This is her Impala, right?”
“You best move on. She don’t do tricks. Least wise not here she don’t.”
“No. It’s nothing like that. Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“She ain’t comin’ back. She ain’t never comin’ back.”
“How do you know that? Did she tell you where she was going?”
“I know that ‘cause she’s dead. Died right there next to her car.”
“No. No. That can’t be right. I just talked with her a couple of days ago. You must be mistaken.”
“I ain’t makin’ this up. I wisht it was a mistake, but I seen it with my own two eyes.”
“What the hell happened?” Billy asked, bending down on one knee to look this guy in the eye.
“Damn drugs what happened. Finally got her. She was all shakin’ and foamin’ at the mouth. Happened fast. Nothin’ anyone could do ‘bout it. Cops showed up. Took away the body. Took the girl.”
11
JEREMIAH ROBINSON, BILLY’S BOSS
, CHECKED his caller ID and answered on the second ring.
“What’s up Billy? I didn’t expect to hear from you this soon.”
“I could use your help, Jeremiah. A couple days ago I interviewed this terrific kid and her mother for my story. I went back to do some follow-up and found out the mother died of a drug overdose, and the police took the girl. I need to track down that girl. I think she got swept into the system. Is there any chance you have some police contacts out here in DC? I want to find her.”
“Does a bear shit in the woods? One of the benefits of being a dinosaur in this business is a big network. I can make some calls. What’s the name?”
“Riley Sinclair. She’s ten.”
Billy also gave him the make, model, and location of the car.
“Why the follow up on this one, Billy?” Jeremiah asked. “Thought you were going to be interviewing a lot of different people.”
“I was. But this girl—there’s just something about her. She’s smart. No, no. Wise is a better description. My gut’s telling me that she could be the focal point of this story.”
“Sounds like a different direction for the piece, but your gut hasn’t steered us wrong yet. Let me make some calls and I’ll get back to you.”
Jeremiah ended the call before Billy could thank him. But that was Jeremiah.
The Managing Editor of the largest newspaper in Chicago had taken a chance and hired Billy as a cub reporter. Jeremiah had been impressed with Billy’s journey from Navy SEAL to college graduate with a journalism degree. Billy saw both as service to his country. A background check revealed he was a highly decorated veteran of the War in Afghanistan, although Billy never mentioned his medals in the interview.
Jeremiah believed Billy had all the makings of an investigative journalist—a difficult gig, especially on the streets of Chicago. Education was good, but tough made the difference between a good reporter and a great reporter. Born and raised in Chicago’s Cabrini-Green, sixty-year-old Jeremiah knew all about tough. He had taken this new cub reporter under his wing.
