by Beth Shriver
“They’re such nice boys,” Nancy commented, reaching for a pen.
Liz handed her a placement form and grinned. “You say that about all the kids I bring you.”
She chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I do.” Nancy gave Liz the once over. “You need to try some of my bread.” She got up and brought over a pan of bread with a side of butter and poured a large glass of cold milk.
“So tell me about this police officer. They don’t usually accompany you unless something’s wrong.” After observing Liz with the butter, she handed her a napkin.
Liz felt like she was five again, slathering on a huge amount of butter and stuffing the bread in her mouth while it was still warm. She rolled her shoulders to ease the tension. She was a little resentful that she had to answer about Alex and pulled herself away from the delicious bread.
“He didn’t have another call so he just came with me. He’s still in jurisdiction if something comes up.”
“Ahem.” Alex stood against the door jam with a half-grin.
“Alex, come sit down. Would you like some bread?” Nancy asked, already cutting him a slice.
“I’d love some.” He took the plate she offered him and sat next to Liz.
She looked over at him, and he pointed to the corner of her mouth. She reached up with her finger and wiped a glob of butter off her lip.
His grin caused a reaction in her she quickly suppressed.
Liz started thinking of questions about him that she wanted answers to but would never ask. Personal things that she never let herself think about before. Like, what did he watch on TV late at night, what was his favorite kind of ice cream and what did he sleep in?
Fighting a blush, she checked the time. “It’s late, and I have a lot of paperwork to do.”
Alex gave her a sideways stare. “There’s always paperwork, but not always homemade bread.”
Alex and Nancy chuckled. They talked and ate while Nancy signed the papers and filled their plates a second time.
Liz quickly gathered the paperwork and then said her goodbyes. Scotty gave her a wave as he fanned out his cards. Jimmy jumped off his chair and gave her a quick hug before getting back to the card game. The boys were at the card table in the family room with John, learning how to play UNO, the Bowie family favorite.
Alex walked her to her car and opened the driver’s side door. “They’re good people.”
“I never worry about the kids here. It’s getting them to leave that’s the problem.” She stepped into her car and rolled down the window.
“That’s good to hear. My experience with foster homes hasn’t always been that positive,” he said resting his forearms on the window sill.
“There are those, but for the most part, the people I’ve worked with have the children’s best interests in mind. Once you find them, you don’t let go.”
“Yeah, that’s true with anyone in life.”
Liz looked at him in acknowledgement but didn’t respond. She refused to read further into his comment.
He took a step back from the car. “It’s late, so I’ll let you go.”
She started the car as Alex walked away. “Alex, thanks,” she called through the open window.
Alex stopped and turned around. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped forward. “For what?”
She smiled and looked down. “Just, thanks.” She rolled up her window and drove away.
Chapter Five
Walking down the hall into her office, Liz inhaled the musty smell from the forever-leaking roof. The pale blue walls showed shadows of past colors of white and beige. Brown carpet covered the twenty-some-year-old floors leading to her office.
She sat down in her swivel chair, looking at her old silver-and-mushroom-colored metal desk. On top of the mound of paperwork, pens and other paraphernalia, lay a Denver Post newspaper. The front-page story popped out at her; “Abuse and Neglect Stats Shocking.”
Liz moved some files out of the way and laid the paper down, running through the statistics on the local social service calls. A total of 37,665 screened-out calls, which meant they were new incidents. The next category number was 21,698—all of which were emergency calls—for a total of almost 60,000 calls this year.
“Great way to start the day, isn’t it, Liz?” Her supervisor stuck his head inside the office and pointed to the paper. His brown hair appeared to be newly trimmed, again. He had on his regular attire, khaki pants, a tucked in button-down shirt, and slip-on shoes that matched his belt. He sat down on a blue-padded armless chair located next to her desk and crossed his long, slender legs.
Michael was married to his job. He didn’t think matrimony was a priority. At least that appeared to be the reason he had never gotten serious with anyone.
He was a good guy to work for. Actually, Liz didn’t always feel as if he were her supervisor. They got along well, and they shared the same convictions about how to do their jobs.
He watched her pull placement paperwork out of her briefcase. “Looks like you went out on a call last night.”
“I had to place two boys. Dad got a little upset with the eleven-year-old.”
Michael turned his head toward the ceiling in thought. “I bet you placed them at the Bowies’.”
“Bingo,” she sang, lifting a finger.
“You keep that house full,” he stated, with an admiring stare.
“Where would you want to be if you were a kid?” She pointed at him.
“No doubt about that. Does Dad have any priors?”
“Not with us, but he has a few with PD. The most concerning is a domestic violence. I’m going to give it to Norma. Most of her cases have moved to long-term caseworkers. I just need to finish up some paperwork with Demas.” She leaned back in her chair, waiting to hear the creak in the springs. The familiar sound set her in work mode like a time card being punched.
“So that means you have about the same caseload as Norma does on a regular basis.”
Norma’s lack of pulling her weight drove him crazy, but he didn’t do much about it except complain to Liz.
“Yeah, but I’m sure I’ll get another case before I even hand this one off to Norma.” She looked at the papers on her desk and started sorting through them. She could feel his stare but decided to wait rather than ask what he was thinking.
“You and Demas always get hooked up on these calls.”
She shrugged and fidgeted in her chair and then changed the subject. “What do you think about me going for the supervisor promotion?”
He was silent for a moment. “I think you’ve got a shot. I’d have to work more though, so, no.”
Liz liked her current position as short-term caseworker. She went out on the initial calls, went to court if needed, then passed them along to the appropriate long-term caseworkers. She enjoyed the variety and independence of her job, but danger was almost a given on every call lately. And if she were honest about it, she was starting to lose her nerve.
Michael had always been good to her, but that’s because she worked nonstop. She had wondered if he would support her with a promotion.
“Please don’t hold me back if I’m ready for it,” she stated, cautioning him with her eyes.
He held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll support whatever you decide to do.”
Margie, the ‘super’ secretary-slash-drill-sergeant, came in and winked at Liz. “Michael, you have a call.”
“Thanks, Margie.” He got up, tapped his finger on the door and then walked down the hall to his office.
Margie’s contagious laugh echoed down the hallway.
“How’re the boys? All four of them?” Liz asked.
“Just fine. How’s the love life?” Margie asked eagerly. Liz knew Margie couldn’t understand why Liz wasn’t married with three kids by now.
“Non-existent.” As soon as Liz said it she could have kicked herself.
Margie’s green eyes brightened, matching her green rhinestone earrings that swayed as she moved. “Rea
lly? What a coincidence,” she exclaimed, moving forward.
Liz scrunched up in her chair, feeling the pressure.
“I have a guy for you. Come over to dinner so you can meet him.”
“I can’t,” Liz answered, a little too quickly.
Margie stood with fists on her hips. “He’s a great guy. He’s going for his doctorate.”
She tried to not let that impress her. “Personality. What about his personality?”
Margie raised her voice a little and went a different route. “He’s good-looking. Blond, blue eyes, over six feet tall.”
She had avoided the personality question.
“I’m sorry, Margie.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Margie crooned as she walked out.
****
After passing the day away with phone calls and paperwork, Liz had one thing left to do. She glanced down at the file on her desk. She needed to give Norma her new case. The other caseworkers had more cases more than she did. So Liz would catch justified grief from them if she didn’t give it to Norma, or she would get unjustified grief from Norma. She could live with that.
She started down the hall with the manila folder in hand. She passed Jackie’s office. Jackie saw the folder in Liz’s hand and quickly turned away. She passed Jen’s office next. Jen dared her by narrowing her eyes, staring as Liz passed.
Next was Norma’s office. She was filing with her back turned to the door. Her short, straight black hair revealed a few gray hairs to show for her worrisome personality.
Liz stood next to Norma’s desk. “It’s an easy show of abuse and confession of the parent. The family is located off East Colfax.”
Norma read it over. Her small dark eyes swept over the papers. When she finished, she swiftly gave them back to Liz and pushed up her glasses. “After reviewing the case, I think Karen would be the best caseworker for this particular one.”
Liz ran out of patience before she had any. None of the other caseworkers complained when she gave them a case. She rested both hands on her desk. “Norma, Karen has almost twice as many as you.”
Norma turned up her chin.
Determined, Liz placed the file on her desk.
Norma frowned as she looked at it.
Margie walked past Norma’s office then backed up. “Officer Demas is on line two for you, Liz.”
Norma was one of the few who had the ability to make Liz lose her self control. Not being a team player was one of Liz’s biggest pet peeves. “I’ll be there in a minute,” she answered abruptly.
Margie shrugged. “Do you want me to tell him you’ll call him back?”
“No.” If it was anyone else, yes. She turned from Margie back to Norma, giving her a contentious look with narrowed eyes.
“This is your case.” Liz tapped the folder and walked away.
Glad to be in the sanctity of her own office, Liz took Alex’s call.
“Hey, glad you called,” she greeted settling back in her chair. “I wanted to let you know that I’m going back to the house we were at last night.”
“Why?” Confusion colored the word.
“I want to talk with the person who reported the disturbance.”
“I can do that.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “So can I.”
Alex sighed. “Promise me you’ll be careful, and call if you run into trouble.”
Liz released the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Promise.”
Chapter Six
As Liz drove she took in the street life. Most of the people she saw hung around the girly show places or the liquor stores. She never understood why people frequented the corner of streets. She could actually see the folded up money changing hands with a small bundled package. A guy drove up to a half-dressed gal—probably named his terms and price—then she got in the car and they drove off together.
The worst was the younger kids that were already hanging out with the older gang members. It sickened her to see them take a drink of something in a bottle wrapped up in a brown paper bag, or taking a drag and the smoke seeping out through their mouth and nose.
She realized she was ogling when a guy on the corner returned her stare and kept it. She turned her eyes forward just in time to slam on her brakes, almost rear ending the car ahead of her. She looked back to see him still staring at her. She was stuck in traffic now and had drawn enough attention for the guy to start walking up to her car.
About the time she was beginning to panic the traffic started moving again and she hit the accelerator. She could see him in her rear view mirror making crude gestures at her.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned off on a side street to the house. As she walked to the door she noticed the neighborhood looked different in the daylight. Older houses that at one time had been prime in their day were let go, caught up in the inner city decay.
Paint on the white brick house was chipped off and the lawn mostly dirt with a couple of big evergreens. The half porch at the side of the house boasted a swing that was slowly swaying in the wind. A blue sedan that hadn’t been there the night before sat in the driveway. Hopefully, that meant the lower occupants were home.
A middle-aged man opened the door. His white t-shirt and jeans sagged over his lanky body. He reached up to his uncombed hair, trying to smooth the unruly curls. His hand went from his hair to his stubbly chin.
Liz explained who she was and why she was there.
His glazed, unfocused stare made her uncomfortable. “I’m Liz Adams, from the department of social services. Did you make the complaint about a disturbance?”
“Yeah, come in if you like.” He opened the screen door and she walked into a similar layout of the Harris place upstairs, only cleaner. The family room and kitchen were in the front of the house with two bedrooms and a bathroom in the back.
“Why did you call in the complaint?”
His stare made her antsy. He appeared to be having some trouble focusing, and his breath about knocked her over with alcohol fumes.
“That dad’s beating that kid, the older one. I hear it go on some nights. Other nights I just leave.”
“Like last night. You weren’t home when we came by.”
“No, I couldn’t stand hearing it no more.”
“But the marks on Scotty weren’t from last night.”
His head lifted and eyes tried to narrow in on her. “Well then someone else must have gotten it.”
“No, Mr. Sanders, no one else in the family showed any signs of physical abuse.” This really wasn’t the issue, his lying was and Liz saw a big, red flag waving at her. “How did you know it was only the older boy? Do you talk with him?”
“No, don’t talk to any of ‘em as long as the rent’s paid.” The phone rang and he started towards the kitchen. He held up his hand for her to hold on.
There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask so she waited. She ambled into the family room. Clothes and papers were scattered around the room. She bumped into the coffee table causing a few papers to fall to the floor. Reaching to pick them up she felt a lump in between the papers.
She weeded through them feeling apprehensive, worried about him coming back in. As she stood, something hit her knee and then fell to the ground. She looked down not wanting to see what she was seeing. A small bag of cocaine lay at her feet. Dang! Where’s a cop when you need one?
She lowered her head down to get a closer look just as a bony, hairy foot slid into her vision. She slowly lifted her eyes to face Mr. Sanders. He was standing within reach, his eyes wide and anxious, studying her.
Without looking down she stepped over the baggie. Her thought process leaned toward ignorance, to pretend the bag wasn’t there. Lame but it was all she could come up with. “I have all the information I need...”
He took a step closer, closing the gap between them. A shiver of fear shot up her spine. Her mind started racing. She needed to stay calm to keep him calm.
She took a step back,
hoping to move around the side of him. She hit the heel of her shoe against the wall, not realizing she was so close.
He put both hands up on either side of her head, pressing his palms on the wall. Trapped, she reacted out of instinct and tried to duck under his arm, causing him to move closer into her.
That was stupid, think.
She turned her head to the side to avoid being face to face with him. He slid his arms down penning her in. The stale smell of alcohol penetrated her nostrils. His warm breath puffed against her cheek as his breathing increased.
“Think about what you’re doing Mr. Sanders.” Liz said firmly, willing her voice to keep steady. She closed her eyes trying to endure the closeness of his body. Feeling like a cornered animal, she remembered that no one but Alex knew where she was. Desperation took over as she started to think of a way out.
“We can talk about this,” she said trying to distract him while she slowly reached for the cell phone clipped to her belt.
She searched for the keypad. He bumped into her leg with his knee causing her to lose her place on the keys. She put one hand on his chest to keep him at arms length. She felt her way around the buttons and then pushed send.
“You gone meddling into things you shouldn’t.” He backed away suddenly grabbing her wrist. Twisting her arm behind her back, he turned her away from him and started pushing her forward. She yanked the phone off her belt holding it to her mouth. The last number she’d called was Alex.
“801 Pearl Street, 801 Pearl Street—” She kept repeating the address. Lord, please let him find me.
Sanders hit her forearm sending the phone flying across the room. It skidded on the wooden floor, hitting the wall.
There was no way of telling if Alex had gotten any information. She would have to fight herself free.
Liz spun around to face him and started kicking like a mad woman. She kicked flesh the first couple of times, and then missed completely, causing her to fall forward.
She flailed her hand at him to keep him from grabbing hold of her other arm. It was a moment of pure insanity. Limbs were flying, kicking and hitting. Sanders grunted in pain, trying to block her kicks but she continued to kick until she felt the tip of her shoe hit bone. Liz cringed and took in a breath.
