“Why don’t I fix us some tea while the children are working?” Kate offered.
“Perfect. I can sit right here at the table where I’ll be handy if they have any questions.”
Kate set the kettle on the stove to heat and got down two of her nicest teacups and a matching pot.
At the table, Renee whispered to Beck, who was working on some math problems, “Use your fingers to count. I always do.”
Kate smothered a smile.
She’d managed to get two cups of tea poured when the doorbell rang again. Raising her hand, she let everyone know she’d take care of the caller, whoever it was.
Through the peephole, she saw a tall, angular woman with graying hair and a dour expression, not the pair of criminals she feared might appear at any moment.
She opened the door partway.
“Mrs. Hanlon?” Kate acknowledged that she was, and the woman continued. “I am Valerie Hyland with the Department of Children’s Services. I understand you are caring for three children whose mother has recently passed.”
Kate threw an anxious glance over her shoulder toward the dining room, then turned back to her caller. “Do you have some identification, Ms. Hyland?”
The woman looked put out that Kate had asked for her ID. From her shoulder bag, she produced an official-looking badge and held it out for Kate to examine.
“How did you hear about the children?” Kate asked.
“We have a close working relationship with the schools, Mrs. Hanlon. The best interests of the children are our mutual priority. If I might come in...”
Apparently Arletta Walner had blown the whistle on Kate and the kids, all with good intentions, Kate was sure. Nonetheless, she didn’t appreciate a social worker showing up at her door unannounced, but she couldn’t think of any reason to keep the woman out.
She opened the door the rest of the way.
“You do understand, Ms. Hyland, that the news of their mother’s death has been very difficult for the children. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t upset them any further.”
“Of course.” Dressed in a plain navy blue suit and white blouse, the social worker stood in the middle of the living room looking around. “You have an unusually large room here, Mrs. Hanlon.”
“My husband’s the pastor of Faith Briar Church. Sometimes we have meetings of the congregation here at the parsonage.”
“I see.” She seemed unimpressed. “I’d like to see where the children sleep, if I may.”
Kate got a bad feeling. “Why?”
“Mrs. Hanlon, the state sets very high standards when it comes to nonfamily members acting in a custodial role for minor children. While you’re not officially approved as foster parents, the state may be able to show some flexibility if...and I repeat if the accommodations you provide are considered adequate and I judge that you and your husband are suitable.”
“I assure you, Ms. Hyland, my husband and I raised three children of our own, all of whom are quite successful adults. We are up to the task.”
The social worker thrust out her pointed chin. “That’s not the point. If you will be so kind as to show me where the children sleep.”
Renee and the children had stopped what they’d been doing and were watching Kate with concern, Gwen and Beck huddled beside their big sister. Kate didn’t want to alarm them if she could avoid it.
“Very well.” She marched to Paul’s study and stood by the doorway, gratified to see the foldout bed made up and no clothes scattered about. “Megan and her sister sleep here.”
“Your husband’s office?”
“We refer to it as his study, which doubles as a guest room. The bed’s quite comfortable, I assure you. My children and their spouses sleep in it when they visit.”
“I see. And young Becker? Where does he sleep?”
“We’ve put up a privacy screen for him so he has his own little area.” Annoyed that the social worker hadn’t even asked to meet the children, much less spend some time getting to know them, Kate gestured toward the corner of the living room that they’d arranged for Beck.
“Oh, no no no.” Ms. Hyland sternly shook her head. “Simply not suitable. Not at all.”
“Beck’s been quite comfortable here. Granted, he sleeps on an air mattress, but my grandchildren have never minded that. It’s like camping out.”
“The state’s rules are very clear. Children may share a bedroom if they are of the same sex, but they are not allowed to sleep in a public area such as this.”
Renee joined Kate. “What’s going on?”
“Ms. Hyland’s a social worker. She’s checking up on the children. This is my friend and a member of our congregation, Renee Lambert,” she said by way of introduction.
“They’re lovely children,” Renee said. “Dear little things. It’s all so sad, them losing their mother.”
“Yes, of course. But I am charged with making sure that the children are properly housed and well supervised. Since there is no father in the picture—”
“I’m attempting to locate him,” Kate interjected.
“—and no other known relatives, I am obligated to act on their behalf. If my home study reveals an unsuitable arrangement, then I will be forced—”
“Are you saying you’re going to remove these kids from my house?” Kate asked, aghast at the possibility. “They’re only here temporarily, until I can locate their father and make some other arrangement. They’ve just lost their mother and their home. You can’t mean to uproot them again so soon.”
“The Hanlons are wonderful people,” Renee said, looking at the woman so severely that a thick vein popped out on her forehead. “I can’t imagine a better family for these children at this difficult time in their lives.”
The social worker rose up to her full five-feet-ten inches. “Becker cannot sleep in the living room. It’s as simple as that.”
It was all Kate could do to hold her temper in check. “Then I’ll put him somewhere else. He’ll be fine.”
“Where?”
Kate tried to think. She hadn’t wanted to put Beck in her studio because of all the glass and cutting tools. It wouldn’t be safe.
“I’ll clean out my studio and move his bed in there.”
Looking down her nose at Kate, Ms. Hyland said, “I don’t believe I care for your attitude, Mrs. Hanlon. I am under no obligation to keep the children in these unacceptable conditions.”
Kate wanted to roll her eyes but didn’t dare.
“I believe the solution to this situation is quite simple.” Renee waggled her fingers in the air. “I have a lovely home here in town with ample bedrooms. We can move the children to my house for as long as is necessary.”
“What about—” Kate almost asked how Renee’s mother would feel about that but clamped her mouth shut instead. In some ways, it might be safer for the children to stay with Renee. Perry Weller and his buddy wouldn’t know where to find them.
“They’ll still be able to visit the Hanlons,” Renee continued. “Whom they’ve become very fond of. And I do believe you’ll find the accommodations I can provide for the children quite adequate.”
Ms. Hyland frowned. “Do you know these children well?”
“They call me Auntie Renee,” she said smugly. “They adore me.”
The social worker hesitated. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but...” she coughed. “These are three active children...”
“Really! There’s no need to be insulting.” Renee lifted her head, setting her bleached-blonde hair into motion. “I don’t consider thirty-nine to be old.”
Valerie Hyland didn’t appear convinced that Renee hadn’t yet reached her fortieth birthday. Kate didn’t think this was the time to argue about it, however.
Reluctantly, Ms. Hyland agreed to allow the children to stay with the Hanlons for one more night. She explained that she would complete a home study the following morning to see if Renee could provide a suitable foster-care situation for the children. Kate was instruct
ed to have the kids’ belongings packed and ready to go in any event. Beck, at least, could not remain in the Hanlon household under the current arrangement, and his sisters refused to let him go without them.
The Maddock siblings would not be separated.
By the time the social worker left, Kate was exhausted and nearly in tears, the children were distraught, and Renee had assumed the role of soothing friend and loving aunt.
The Lord works in mysterious ways, Kate mused.
Chapter Seventeen
After a dinner that starred three anxious children and a wife embattled by Children’s Services, Paul went into the bedroom to change into jeans and a navy blue slip-over sweater. He wanted to blend into the shadows behind the Mercantile while he, Sam, and Skip waited to trap the vandals.
As upset as Kate was about the social worker’s decision to move the children, she understood they might be safer elsewhere until the diamond thieves were caught, or until their father was found and other arrangements for their care could be made.
He smoothed his rapidly graying hair and picked out a dark cap to wear, then studied his reflection in the mirror. Adding camouflage makeup seemed a little over the top, just as Skip’s grand military-style plan had been.
He found Kate and Megan in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner dishes.
“I’ll be on my way now...” He paused. “If you and the kids think you’ll be okay on your own.”
“We’re all right.” Kate set aside the dish she’d been drying. A slight frown etched itself into her forehead. “I made you a thermos of coffee to take along. You’ll need a jacket too. It’ll get cold sitting out there all night.”
“We’ll be fine, but the coffee’s a good idea. Thanks.”
“Why don’t you take one of our camp stools so you’ll have somewhere to sit?”
He tucked a few strands of Kate’s strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. “Honey, we’ll be fine. We’ll catch the kids who’ve been vandalizing the town, scare the snot out of them, and I’ll be back home in no time.”
“Well, just in case the ‘kids’ are much bigger than you expect, maybe you should take a baseball bat with you,” she said.
“I promise, if we spot a bear behind the Mercantile, I’ll be the first one out of there and running for the hills.”
“But can you run faster than a wild animal?”
Paul hoped he’d never have to learn the answer to that question.
He kissed Kate and told the children good night. He wasn’t sure what time he’d get home.
As he drove to town in his pickup, and darkness began to fall across the countryside, he felt a lightness of spirit. In its own small way, this was going to be an adventure.
He parked the truck at the end of the alley where an intruder wouldn’t notice it. Grabbing the thermos and a flashlight, he strolled toward the back of the Mercantile, the soles of his shoes scraping on the gritty asphalt. Every hundred feet or so, a dim security light created an orange glow that did little to illuminate the alley.
The buildings backing onto the alley filtered the night sounds of town. A passing car on Main Street hummed along the road. A TV played softly in a nearby apartment, but Paul couldn’t make out the words. In the distance, a sleepless rooster announced the coming of dawn hours too soon.
“Paul!” Skip’s whispered call came out of the darkness. “We’re over here.”
He angled in that direction. “Kate made us coffee.”
“Great!” Sam said. “Make yourself at home.”
Using empty wooden crates, Sam and Skip had created something that resembled a duck blind, where they could see the Mercantile’s Dumpster and yet not be seen by passersby. The two of them sat deep in the shadows where Paul could barely make them out.
“It’s dark tonight,” Paul said. “Maybe we should’ve waited for a full moon.”
“I’m tired of sweeping up the mess those vandals leave behind.” Sam guided Paul to an upended crate. “Pull up a chair and sit yourself down.”
Gingerly, Paul perched on the edge of the crate. Kate was right. He should have brought along a camp stool.
“Don’t you have some folding camp chairs in stock, Sam?” he asked. “This is going to get uncomfortable after a few hours.”
“Stakeouts are a tough assignment,” Skip pointed out.
Paul eyed the Dumpster across the alley. The faint scent of spoiled meat drifted in the air. “You bait the Dumpster, Sam? It smells pretty ripe.”
“Trash pickup is tomorrow. That’s why we’re here tonight. The other two times the vandals hit me, the Dumpster was nearly full. That’s when they can make the biggest mess. I figure their folks aren’t home at night or something, so the kids are free to get into some mischief.”
“That’s a reasonable theory.”
“Shh, you two,” Skip ordered. “No talking. You’ll spook our unsubs.”
“Unsubs?” Paul questioned.
“Unknown subjects,” Skip explained with a superior inflection in his voice.
Adjusting his position, Paul leaned back against the block wall fence that ran between the alley and older homes that faced Ashland Street. A chair would have been much more comfortable than one of these wobbly crates with splinters that poked through his jeans.
Suddenly Skip sat up. “Listen! I hear something.”
Paul detected the faint shuffle of shoes on the asphalt. The sound came closer. Crunch, crunch. Crunch, crunch.
“Let ’em get real close,” Skip ordered in a hoarse whisper, “then we’ll jump ’em.”
As the footsteps came closer, Paul’s heart rate picked up and his breathing grew shallow. Could it really be that easy? They’d been there no more than a half hour—
A new sound reached Paul. A low-throated growl.
“Hold it right where you are!” Skip jumped up from his hiding place and switched on his heavy-duty flashlight. The beam sliced through the night and found a target Paul recognized.
“Help! Police!” Orson Ulrich screamed.
His Doberman lunged at Skip at the end of his leash and bared his teeth.
Skip fell backward over a crate in his effort to get away. “I am the police, Orson. Call off your dog. Call him off now!”
Sam tried to pull Skip away from the dog, who had his teeth firmly latched onto Skip’s pant leg.
“Sunshine, let go of him,” Orson ordered. “What in tarnation are you doin’ out here in the middle of the night?” The eighty-year-old yanked on the dog’s leash again. “You heard me. Leave him alone. Come!”
“The question is, what are you doing here, Mr. Ulrich?” Skip asked.
Paul didn’t think the old man could be the vandal they were looking for, but he supposed that stranger things had happened.
Orson managed to regain control of his dog. “What do you think I’m doin’? I’m walkin’ my dog, that’s what.”
Sam stepped forward, apologetic. He explained about the vandals.
“You fool people pull a stunt like this again, and I’m reporting you to the sheriff. Terrorizing people is against the law, you know.” He yanked on the leash again. “Come on, Sunshine. Let’s get out of here.”
Still muttering under his breath, Orson marched back the way he had come.
Skip exhaled loudly. “That didn’t go so well.”
“Did the dog hurt you?” Paul asked.
“Naw, but I’m gonna need a new pair of pants.” The deputy flicked his hand across the ripped material where the dog had latched on to him.
The team regrouped and settled back down on their crates. Cool air crept under Paul’s jacket. He zipped it up and stuck his hands in his pockets. Without a full moon to steal the light from the stars, the heavens were filled with a million twinkling pinpricks. The North Star glowed brightly, leading the way to the Big Dipper.
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
As Paul pondered the enormity of that truth, an unfamiliar sound drew his attention. For a moment he
couldn’t identify what it was or who was making it. Then he realized it was Skip snoring.
“Sam? You awake?” Paul whispered.
“I’m here.”
“Sounds like Skip just flunked Stakeout 101.”
Sam chuckled as they listened to Skip’s rhythmic intake of air.
Almost an hour later, Paul spotted movement near the Dumpster. He nudged Skip and strained to get a clearer view of whoever was approaching.
Skip woke with a snort. “Wha—”
“Shh, we’ve got somebody.”
Sam got to his feet, staring ahead. Paul looked in the direction of Sam’s gaze, stunned by the sight.
“Well, don’t that beat all,” Sam said. “A bear cub’s been raiding my Dumpster.”
The little brown bear stood on his back feet pushing at the heavy lid, trying to gain access to the tempting smells inside. Either he wasn’t strong enough to do the job or didn’t have the right leverage.
“I’m gonna run that critter off.” Sam picked up a stick and a metal trash-can lid he’d brought along to frighten teenage hooligans.
Paul jumped to his feet. “Wait, Sam!”
Banging the stick on the lid like a snare drum, Sam strolled toward the cub. “Get on outta here, buddy!”
“Be careful,” Skip said.
“Sam, the cub’s mother could be—”
Before Paul could finish his warning, a big lumbering figure came into view, loping unevenly from out of the shadows. She gave a cry that sent the cub scampering to safety, then turned on Sam. She rose up on her back legs and roared. One of her paws appeared injured.
“Sam! Get out of there!” Paul said.
Sam remained frozen in place. So did Skip.
“Do something, Skip.” Paul grabbed a crate and waved it in the air to make himself appear as large as he could to the bear. He scooted out of the blind to help his friend. “Get outta here, bear! Go on! You’ve got no business here.”
Paul snared Sam’s arm and started walking backward away from the bear. The bear dropped to all fours but didn’t give ground.
A shot rang out and banged harmlessly into the Dumpster. The bear turned her attention toward Skip.
For the Least of These Page 13
