Dark Guardian (Black Hoods MC Book 3)

by Avelyn Paige

  He frowns. “Do I ask why?”

  I explain the missing paperwork and my lack of proof for being a legal guardian to Kevin and Natalie.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll work on it as soon as we finish up here.”

  “Well,” Sharon says, approaching the two of us with a smile. “What do you think?”

  I glance over at Karma, who nods his approval, and say, “Guess we’re makin’ an offer.”

  “I’ll draw up the paperwork. How would you like to pay if they accept it?”

  “Cash, sugar. Cold, hard cash.”

  Grace

  My phone rings the second I sit down at my desk.

  “Grace Halfpenny.”

  “Hi, Grace, it’s Lisa in the call center. How are you?” she chirps cheerfully. How someone can be that happy at seven in the morning on a Monday is beyond me, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen Lisa crack a frown once since I’ve known her. She’s just one of those cheery people.

  “Fine, thank you. How can I help you?”

  “We just received a call on the anonymous tip line regarding two children at the Lake Travis School District.”

  Looking for a pad of paper and a pen, I jot down the details as she rattles them off.

  “Caller said two kids, a boy and a girl, were enrolled at Lake Travis Secondary School on the first day without any paperwork to prove guardianship. No birth certificates, transcripts from their old school, or shot records.”

  “Odd,” I comment.

  “The caller stated they got a bad feeling from the man with them and noted he was a bit old to have kids of that age.” Being a later in life parent isn’t as uncommon as it used to be, but it’s interesting that the caller mentioned it.

  Something in this caller’s description sets off a wave of uneasiness inside of me. Who is he? And why doesn’t he have the paperwork to prove these kids are under his care?

  I write this on the notepad and underline it.

  “Did the caller provide their names? Address? Descriptions?”

  “Kevin and Natalie Tucker. They were registered as siblings.”

  “Did the caller mention anything else?”

  “That was the gist of it. They didn’t stay on long enough for the call center to ask anything else.”

  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lisa. I appreciate it.”

  She hangs up, and I fire off an email to my supervisor to alert him to the call.

  Flipping open my computer, I search for the school contact information. Speaking to these kids as soon as possible is essential, but according to the school website, the central office won’t be open for a few more hours. Until then, I have to bide my time, looking through our old records for a possible connection just to be sure.

  Switching to our internal database, I type in their names, and with a stroke of the enter key, two case numbers with those names associated pop up.

  I start with the oldest record. Clicking on the date, it pulls up a case file with two images across the top. The boy has dark hair and dark eyes, and the nearly identical little girl with blue eyes is clutching a teddy bear to her chest. My heart sinks the longer I take in the images on the screen. What had happened to them to make their faces so full of fear and sadness?

  Could these be the same kids? Without seeing them in person, I have no way to be sure. I send the images to my printer to add to my file.

  Anger stirs inside me when I scroll further down into the history of the case. Their mother was arrested for prostitution, and they placed the kids into foster care. Custody was returned to the mother a year later.

  The last file is almost identical. Mother loses custody after a second arrest for prostitution, forcing the kids back into foster care a second time. However, they were separated after the foster family requested an alternative home when the kids had attempted to run away together. The little girl’s foster family went so far as to file a petition for adoption, but the judge denied it. The boy was another story. He bounced around to several other foster homes until their mother was granted her rights back a second time, after eighteen months.

  Why would the courts side with this woman and not with so many others who had worked to clean up their life? Why did she deserve her kids more than someone who had gotten their life back on track? The logical answer would be that she didn’t, but the decision was clear in black and white on the screen in front of me. The courts said she did. If these kids are the same as my new case, I can only imagine what level of hell they’ve been through over the years.

  Trying to put that notion out of my mind and focus on the kids, I work a few more hours until Eric walks into my office and settles into one of the chairs across from my desk. “Good morning, Grace.”

  “Eric,” I return.

  “Got your email. What have you found so far?” I turn my computer screen to show him the two case files I had found in the system. Reading them, he shakes his head. “I remember this case. One of your predecessors, I believe. The mother was a real piece of work. The whole office was shocked when they gave her her rights back. Happens far too often in cases like this.”

  “I’d be inclined to agree with you, sir.”

  “Where are you at with the school?”

  “Just waiting for them to open.” Shifting my eyes to the clock on my computer screen, I see it’s twenty past nine. I quickly reach for my phone as Eric pushes himself out of the chair.

  “Keep me posted,” he remarks over his shoulder as he leaves me to the call.

  “Here goes nothing,” I mutter as I dial the number I’d found on Google for the school. Someone picks up almost immediately.

  “Lake Travis Secondary School,” a cheerful voice answers.

  “Yes, my name is Grace Halfpenny, and I’m a caseworker with the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services. I’m calling because our office has been made aware of a situation involving two students, a boy and a girl who were enrolled into your school last week.” Pulling my notepad out from underneath a stack of papers, I place it in front of me. “Kevin and Natalie Tucker.”

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t release any information about our students. It’s against policy.”

  “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I’m calling from—”

  “It doesn’t change the answer,” she fires back.

  I stifle my frustration as I try to remain professional. “Is there someone else I can speak with? A principal or superintendent, perhaps?” She remains silent, so I continue. “I understand you may not get calls like this all that often, but I’m investigating a report we received about two students enrolled in your school. You can either allow me to speak to someone who can verify the information I require, or I’ll request law enforcement to collect it for me.” My voice wavers as my professionalism cracks.

  “Can you hold just a second?”

  “Sure.” The phone line clicks over to soft jazz music in the background. It plays for a few minutes before the line clicks back over.

  A new voice comes onto the line. “Miss Halfpenny? My name is Melanie Pyle, and I’m the superintendent for the school. My secretary, a new hire, has informed me of your request. How can we help you?”

  I repeat my earlier request.

  “Yes, of course,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Can I please have the names of the students?”

  “Kevin and Natalie Tucker.”

  “Ah, yes. The principal of their school contacted me about the peculiarities of their enrollment. I assume that’s the reason for your call?”

  “That’s correct. I’d like to meet with them to conduct my investigation. Will that be a problem?”

  “Let me check our attendance roll.” I hear the clicks of a keyboard in the background as she types. “It looks like we have marked Natalie absent today. Let me pull up the notes.” Her keyboard clicks a few more times before she sighs. “It says illness.”

  “And Kevin?”

  “He’s also marked as absent for illness.
Unfortunately, there’s been a case of the first week flu, as we like to call it, hitting several of our grades. We have twenty percent of our student body out today.”

  “I see.” If they aren’t there, I can’t identify or match them with the previous cases. I only have one choice. I have to wait for them to come back to school and try to track down their whereabouts in the meantime. “Speaking to them both is of the utmost priority right now.”

  This isn’t how I envisioned this going. Pushing my glasses up, I pinch the bridge of my nose and ask another question. “Did the man who registered them provide a place of residence? An address or phone number? Any means to contact them?”

  “Unfortunately, that information is still being entered our system. We’ve had an influx of new students this year, and we’re behind. I can reach out to our IT department and ask them to expedite their information upload.”

  “That would be helpful. I’d appreciate a copy being sent to my office, and request that I be notified when they return to class. I must stress, Ms. Pyle, that these children might be in danger, and any second we waste could come with dire consequences for them.”

  “I understand. If you give me your number and email address, I’ll get what information we have to you as soon as possible.”

  I rattle off my number, and the second she hangs up, I cup my face in my hands.

  It can never be easy, can it?

  Judge

  “Knock-knock,” Lindsey calls from the front door. My niece knows full well she never has to knock before entering this house. I raised her here from the time she was twelve years old. My home is her home, even if she doesn’t actually live here anymore.

  And besides, I’ve been waiting for her.

  “In the kitchen,” I call out, trying to keep my voice calm, even as the panic threatens to claw its way up my throat and out of my mouth.

  I force a smile for Kevin, who looks as worried as I feel.

  “You’re home too?” Lindsey asks him as she bustles into the room.

  “Something’s wrong with Nat,” he replies.

  Lindsey nods, but doesn’t comment any further on the matter. Smart girl.

  Lindsey is in the final year of her PhD program at the local university. When she’s finished, she’ll be a fully licensed psychiatrist. But there’s a pretty good chance she’ll push it even further and move on in the program to specialize specifically in child psychiatry. I’m proud as hell of her, but I never thought her expertise would come in as handy as it does right now.

  “She’s locked herself in the bathroom and she won’t come out,” I explain. “She woke up fine, went in there to get ready for school, then let out this god-awful scream. I can hear her crying in there, but when I threatened to break down the door, she begged me to just leave her alone.”

  “And a little girl asking you not to break down the door stopped you?”

  “I didn’t want to scare her.”

  Lindsey’s frowning now. “Did she say anything at all?”

  “Just that she wants to be left alone.”

  Her eyes soften as she places a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Has your sister ever had her period before?”

  Kevin’s facial expression transforms from one of concern, to one of absolute horror in an instant. “How the heck would I know?” he cries. “Ew! That’s so disgusting.”

  Lindsey smirks, as if he had just answered her question, and grabs her purse off of the counter. “I’ll be back,” she says as she makes her way up the stairs.

  I hear the soft knock she makes on the bathroom door, along with their muffled voices.

  Thinking about Lindsey’s question, I shudder and pour myself another coffee. When I’d agreed to take these kids in, I didn’t once think about periods. Hell, I hadn’t considered a lot of things. Is that what this is? Did Natalie just get her first period? I’m so out of my element on this. Thank God for Lindsey.

  “I can’t believe we’re missing school because of a stupid period,” Kevin groans. Whatever worry he’d shown before is gone, only to be replaced with annoyance.

  “We don’t know for sure that’s what it is,” I say, plopping my ass down in a chair.

  A slow smirk spreads across his lips. He’s enjoying my misery. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you? Do you even know what to do for a period?”

  “Do you?” Sighing, I drag my hand across my face. “I know enough. By the time Lindsey came along back when she was a teen, she was already getting hers. I just bought her what she told me to. It was never exactly a topic of conversation either of us wanted to discuss.”

  This makes him chuckle.

  I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder. “Kev, I don’t know much about being a parent. I think we all know that well enough. But I got a decent home, two extra bedrooms, and I would never let you or your sister down like your parents and your uncle did.”

  Kevin’s smile disappears as tears form in his eyes.

  “When you guys are experiencing your firsts, they’re gonna be firsts for me too. But fuck it, ya know? Better to learn together than to learn that shit on our own, right?”

  Kevin nods, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Right.”

  Releasing his shoulder, I sit back in my seat. “And when it comes to girly shit like periods and new bras…” We both cringe. “Well, we’ll let Lindsey handle that.”

  Kevin grins. “Agreed.”

  Just then, Lindsey steps out from the bathroom.

  “Well?”

  “We’re going to need to make a run to the pharmacy, unless you have some extra maxi pads lying around.”

  “Why the fuck would I have those?” It’s not like I’ve had a woman hiding out here. Not since Gina up and left, and that was two houses ago. Her shit was long gone after what she did.

  Lindsey folds her arms over her chest and laughs. “Exactly. Why don’t the two of you head to the store, and I’ll help her get cleaned up. Get some ice cream too. Do you know what flavor she likes?”

  “Mint chocolate, I think.” Kevin shrugs. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “She will be, Kev.”

  “Come on, son. Let’s go get what we need for your sister, and we’ll have a talk about why every man should be okay with picking up the feminine shit the women in our lives need.”

  Kevin scrunches his face at me. “Why would I do that? That’s gross.”

  “Brownie points, kid. Brownie points.”

  Grace

  This case haunted me all last night, to the point I didn’t sleep a wink. When my alarm went off this morning, I was already dressed and out the door. The inkling that these two kids’ story was worse than I feared nagged at me the entire drive to work. I tried to shake it off, but the feeling wouldn’t dissipate.

  I have to help them someway, somehow.

  A few minutes past nine, my desk phone rings. I don’t hesitate a single second to pick up when the school’s name flashes across the caller ID on my desk phone. Please, let them be there.

  “DFPS, Child Investigations Division. This is Grace.”

  “They’re both here. The secretary at the school office tried to get the plate off the pickup truck that dropped them off, but they left too quickly.” It would have been nice to have that information, but for now, the children being at school is enough for me.

  “I’m on my way. Don’t let them leave if you can help it.”

  “Why would they leave?”

  “If there’s something amiss with these kids, they could have eyes on them. We can’t take any chances.”

  “Oh, goodness,” she gasps. “Should I send our resource officer to their classrooms to gather them?”

  “No, you might spook them. Just leave them be and keep an eye out. I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

  Gathering a few things from my desk, including the case file I had put together with the two previous reports and photographs, I fire off a quick email to my supervisor, alerting him to the developments in the case. I d
on’t wait for his reply before I’m out the door of my office and halfway down the stairs to the parking lot. With wide, determined steps, I find my sedan in its usual spot.

  I hear Greg’s voice calling out from the alleyway behind me. “Morning, Grace. Where’s the fire?”

  “I’m sorry, Greg, but I don’t have time to talk.”

  “Figures. I came all this way to see you,” he grumbles loud enough to hear.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” I holler back, shoving myself into the car. “Milkshakes on Friday?”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  The last part comes out muffled after I close the door, but I can read his lips—strawberry. Firing up the engine, I take off in the direction of the school. The traffic is thankfully light for this time of morning, and I make it there in record time.

  As I approach, the pale red brick building stands out against the more industrial nature of this area of town. Nestled near the back of the school’s parking lot is an expansive football field that dwarfs the building entirely. If there’s one thing about Texas, football is king here. This stadium is proof enough of that. If you could find a different state with more expansive football fields at the high school level, I’d be surprised.

  A gray-haired woman stands outside of the main entrance of the school, nervously tapping her foot as I approach. Her eyes latch onto me almost immediately.

  “Miss Halfpenny?” she inquires with a noticeable tremble in her voice. “I’m Ms. Pyle. We spoke on the phone earlier. I thought it would be best if I met you outside.”

  “You can call me Grace.” I reach out to shake her hand, but she ignores it. Instead, she waves her petite one to the heavy metal doors and swipes the badge swinging from a lanyard on her chest against the reader. It beeps, and the lock clicks free. Opening the door, she beckons me inside.

  “Follow me to my office. I just received the information you requested from their registration paperwork after we spoke.”

  She leads me to the back of the main office, just off the entrance, where the brick facade continues inside of the school. The worn tile floor desperately needs a good scrubbing. Once in the office, I spy several offices and one large receiving area, which is empty. Toward the back of the main area lies a much larger office. When we enter it, I find a younger woman seated in a chair across from the desk.