Mitchell sat huddled in the backseat of the patrol car, tense and suspicious. The cardboard carton containing cat, kittens and turtle rested on the seat beside him. The rest of his property was in a battered paint bucket on the floor.
“I told you I’m not going back there.”
Mia turned in her seat, antennae going up. “Why not? Is something wrong at home?”
The boy ignored her.
Ever the cop, Collin spoke up. “Juvie Hall is the other alternative.”
“Better than home.”
The adults exchanged glances.
Collin hadn’t said two complete sentences since they’d left Mitch’s lean-to. He’d simply gathered up the animals and the rag-tag assortment of supplies and led the way to the cruiser. Mitchell had followed along without a fuss, his only concern for the animals. For some reason that Mia could not fathom, the two silent males seemed to communicate without words.
Right now, though, Collin’s words were not helping. Mia stifled the urge to shush him. Something was amiss with the child and he was either too scared or too proud to say so.
She pressed a little harder. “I wish you’d talk to me, Mitch. I can help. It’s what I do. If there is a problem at home I can help get it resolved.”
Dirt spewed up over the windshield as they bumped and jostled down the dusty road out of the landfill. Once on the highway, Collin flipped on the windshield washers.
“How do you and your mother get along? Any problems there?”
Mitch turned his profile toward her and stared at the spattering water.
Mia softened her voice. “Mitch, if there’s abuse, you need to tell me.”
His head whipped around, expression fierce. “Leave my mom out of this.”
Whoa! “Okay. What about your stepdad?”
Collin gave her a sideways glance that said he wished she’d shut up. She didn’t plan on doing that any time soon. Something was wrong in this boy’s life. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be running away. He wouldn’t be shoplifting, and he wouldn’t dread going home. She would be a lousy social worker and an even worse human being if she didn’t investigate the very real possibility of abuse.
“Mitchell,” she urged softly. “You can trust me. I want to help.”
The cruiser slowed to a turn, pulled through a concrete drive and stopped. Mitchell jerked upright. His eyes widened in fright.
“Hey. What are we doing here?”
The green-and-red sign of the 7-Eleven convenience store loomed above the gas pumps. Mia recognized it as the store from which Mitch had shoplifted. Facing consequences was an important part of teaching a child right from wrong, but Mia still felt sorry for him. And she felt frustrated to be getting nowhere in their conversation.
Collin shifted into Park and got out of the car.
Mitchell shrank back against the seat. “I ain’t going in there.”
Mia braced for a strong-armed confrontation between the cop and the kid, prepared to intervene if necessary. But the cop surprised her.
He opened the back door, hunkered down beside the car and spoke quietly, almost gently, to the scared boy. “Everybody messes up sometime, Mitch. Part of being a man means facing up to your mistakes. Are you willing to be a man about it?”
Although Mia was dying to offer to go inside with the boy and talk to the owner, she knew Collin was right. For once, she had to bite her tongue and let the cop do the talking.
Several long seconds passed while Mia thought she would burst. The need to blurt out reassurances and promises swelled like yeast bread on a hot day. Would Mitchell go on his own? Would Sergeant Grace drag him inside if he didn’t?
As if in answer to her unasked question, Collin placed one wide hand on the knee of the boy’s dirty blue jeans and patiently waited.
The gesture brought a lump to Mia’s throat. Her brothers would laugh at her if they knew, but she couldn’t help it. There was something moving about the sight of a tough, taciturn cop conveying his trustworthiness with a gentle touch.
The boy’s shoulders were so tense, Mia thought his collarbone might snap. Finally, he drew in a shuddering breath and reached for his seat-belt clasp.
“Will you go with me?” Mouth tight and straight, he directed the question to Collin.
The policeman pushed to his feet. “Every step.”
And then, as if the social worker in the front seat was invisible, the two males, one tall and buff and immaculate, the other small and thin and tattered, crossed the concrete space and went inside.
The kittens in the backseat made mewing sounds as Panda shifted positions. Mia glanced around to be sure they were staying put. Yellow eyes blinked back.
“Hang tight, Mama,” she said. “The abandonment is only temporary.”
The poor, bedraggled cat seemed satisfied to stay with her babies and the hapless turtle. So, Mia tilted her forehead against the cool side glass and watched the people inside the store. There were a few customers coming and going, an occasional car door slammed, though the area was reasonably quiet.
She could see Collin and Mitchell moving around inside, see the clerk. Although frustrated at being left behind, for once, she didn’t charge into the situation. But she did use her time to pray that somehow the angry shop owner would give the child a break without letting him off scot-free.
Ten minutes later, Collin and Mitch emerged from the building. Collin wore his usual bland expression that gave nothing away. Mitch looked pale, but relieved as he slammed into the backseat.
Mia could hardly contain herself. “How did it go?”
“Okay.” Collin started the cruiser and pulled into the lane of slow Sunday-afternoon traffic.
Mia rolled her eyes. That wasn’t the answer she was asking for. But since the cop wasn’t willing to elaborate, she asked Mitchell, “What was decided? Is he going to press charges?”
Mitch trailed a finger over one of the kittens. “I don’t know yet. But he said he’d think about it.”
The quiet, gentle boy she usually encountered had returned. The belligerence, most likely posturing brought on by fear, had dissipated. He looked young and small and lost.
Collin spoke up—finally. “We worked out a deal.”
“And is this a secret all-male deal? Or can the nosy, female social worker be let in on it?”
Collin glanced her way, eyes sparkling. At least she’d badgered a smile out of him. Sort of.
“Didn’t like being left in the car?”
The rat. He had already figured out that she needed to be in the middle of a situation. “This is the sort of thing I’m trained to do. I might have been useful in there.”
He didn’t argue the point. “We’re asking for twenty hours of community service.”
That was something she could help with.
“I’ll talk to the DA if you’d like.” She did that all the time, working deals for the juveniles she encountered. “He’s a friend.”
“Figures.”
“Having friends is not a bad thing, Sergeant.”
“It is when you use them to harass people.”
Ah, the phone calls to the chief had not pleased him. “I did not harass you.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her.
“Well, okay. Maybe I did. But just a little to get your attention.”
“You got it.”
“Was that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Time will tell.”
Was that a smile she saw? Or a grimace? He was the hardest man in the world to read.
The cruiser pulled to a stop in front of an older frame house in a rundown area of the city. Paint had peeled until the place was more gray than white, and the yard was overgrown. A rusted lawnmower with grass shooting up over the motor looked as though it hadn’t been used all summer.
Mia knew the house. She’d been here more than once at the request of the school system, but never could find out anything that justified removing the boy from the home.
“I thought Mitch opted for Juvenile Hall?” she asked.
Collin shut off the engine and opened the car door. “He changed his mind.”
A dark-haired woman who was far too thin came out into the yard and stood with her arms folded around her waist.
“Where’s my ten bucks?” she asked as soon as Mitch was out of the car.
To Mia’s surprise, Mitch reached in his jeans and withdrew a crumpled bill. She looked at Sergeant Grace, suspicious, but the man’s poker face gave away nothing. The idea that the tough cop might have bailed the boy out with his mother touched her. Maybe he wasn’t so heartless after all.
She listened without comment as Collin apprised Mitchell’s mother about the situation. Mrs. Perez didn’t seem too pleased with her son, as expected, but her fidgety behavior raised Mia’s suspicions. She didn’t invite them into the house and seemed anxious to have them gone.
“What’s going to happen to him?” she asked. “I don’t have no money for lawyers and courts.”
“He broke the law, Mrs. Perez. Miss Carano will talk to the DA for him, but at the least he’ll do some community service to pay for the things he took from the store.”
“He stole from me, too.”
Collin’s nostrils flared. “You want to press charges?”
Said aloud, the idea seemed harsh even to the fidgety mother. “I don’t want him stealing from me anymore. That’s all. He’ll end up in jail like his old man.”
Conversation halted as an old car, the chassis nearly dragging on the street, mufflers missing or altered, rumbled slowly past. Loud hip-hop music pulsed from the interior, overriding every other sound.
Collin turned and stared hard-eyed at the vehicle, garnering a rude gesture in return. Mia had a feeling the car’s inhabitants hadn’t seen the last of Sergeant Grace.
When the racket subsided, Mia picked up the conversation. “Have you considered counseling?”
Monica Perez rolled her eyes. “Mitchell don’t need no shrink. He needs a new set of friends. Them Walters boys down the street get into everything. You oughta go arrest them.”
“I could help him meet some new friends if you’d like,” Mia said and received a sideways glance from Collin for her efforts.
“Fine with me.”
“My church has a basketball league for kids. He could sign up to play.”
“I wouldn’t mind that, but I ain’t got a car. Is it far from here?”
“I’ll pick him up. Saturday morning at nine, if he wants to go.” She looked at Mitch, stuck like a wood tick to Collin’s side. “Mitch?”
“Sure. I guess so.”
Collin dropped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Miss Carano’s going out on a limb for you.”
Mitch gazed up at the tall cop, his expression a mix of frightened child and troubled youth. “I know.”
Mia glimpsed his bewilderment, his failure to understand his own behavior. And as always, something about this kid got to her. A good person was inside there. With God’s help, she’d find a way to bring him out.
“Someone will give you a call next week and let you know the DA’s decision,” Collin was telling Mrs. Perez.
And then with a curt nod, he turned and started back toward the police car. Mia, who preferred long goodbyes with lots of conversation and closure, felt off balance.
Mitch didn’t seem to be finished either because he darted after the departing figure.
“Sergeant Grace.”
Collin stopped, one hand on the car door.
Suddenly, every vestige of the tough street kid was gone. Mitch looked like what he was, a little boy with nothing and no one to cling to. “You’ll take care of Panda?”
“I will.”
“Can I come see her sometime?”
The hardened cop studied the small, intense face, his own face intense as if the answer would cost him too much. “She’d be sad if you didn’t.”
Mia said a quick goodbye to Mrs. Perez and hurried across the overgrown lawn. Now was her chance. Now that Collin had softened just the tiniest bit.
“I could bring Mitch out to your place. Anytime that’s convenient for you.”
Collin looked from Mitchell to Mia and back again. Mia was certain she must be imagining things because the strong, hardened cop looked more helpless than the boy. Helpless...and scared.
Mia shoved away from the mile-high stack of file folders on her desk and scrounged in the bottom desk drawer for her stash of miniature Snickers. A day like today required chocolate and plenty of it. She took two.
Her case load grew exponentially every day to the point that she was overwhelmed at times. Looking out for the interests of kids was her calling, but on days like today, the calling was a tough one.
She’d made a school visit and six home visits. At the last one, she’d done what every social worker dreads. She’d pulled the two neglected babies and taken them to a foster home. Even now, though she knew she’d made the right choice, she could hear the youngest one crying for his mama. Poor little guy was too young to comprehend that he lived in a crack house.
She nipped the corner of Snickers number one and turned to the computer on her desk. All the reports from today had to be typed up and stored in the master files before she could go home.
“See ya tomorrow, Mia,” one of the other workers called as she passed by the open office door.
Mia waved without lifting her eyes from the computer screen. “Have a good evening, Allie.”
She reached for another bite of candy. Over the tick-tick-tick of the keyboard, she heard another voice. This one wasn’t her coworker.
“Mind if I interrupt for a minute?”
Her head snapped up.
“Collin?” she blurted before remembering he’d never given her permission to call him by his first name. But she had to face the fact. She thought about him, even prayed for him, by his first name.
During the three days since he’d helped her find Mitchell, she’d prayed about him and thought about him a lot. The fact that she didn’t know him that well didn’t get him out of her mind. She was intrigued. And attracted. More than once, she’d wondered if he was a Christian, but she was afraid she might already know the answer.
Now he stood before her in his blue uniform, patches on each sleeve, shiny metal pins on each collar point and above his name tag. He looked as crisp and clean as new money.
Great. And she looked like a worn-out, overworked social worker whose white blouse was wrinkled and pulling loose from her red skirt. She hoped like crazy there was no chocolate on her teeth.
“Can we talk?”
Collin Grace wanted to talk? Now there was a novel concept.
“Do you know how?” She softened the teasing jab with a smile.
Those brown eyes twinkled but he didn’t return the smile. “I want to make a deal with you.”
He scraped a client chair away from her desk a little. He might want to talk, but he was still keeping his distance.
Mia rolled back in her own chair to study his solemn face. Whatever was on his mind was serious business. “A deal?”
“In exchange for your help, I’ll mentor the kid.”
The wonderful thrill of victory shot much-needed energy into her bloodstream. After the day she’d had, this was great news.
“Mitchell Perez? Collin, that’s marvelous. He told me on the phone last night that you stopped by after school yesterday. That was so nice of you, and it really made his day. He tried to act all tough about your visit, but he was thrilled. I could tell. And when I told him the DA agreed to community service, he asked if he could work for you. But I had no idea how to answer that without talking to you first and I’ve just been so busy today....”
Collin lifted one hand to slow her down. “The deal first.”
Once she got on a roll, stopping was difficult. But that halted her in her tracks. “Am I going to like this deal?”
“This is confidential. Okay?”
Now her interest was piqued. Very. “Most of my work is confidential. Believe it or not, I can keep my mouth shut when necessary.”
He made a huffing noise that sounded remarkably close to a laugh. She got up and moved around the desk past him to close the door even though the office was probably empty by now.
When she sat down again, she had to ask, “Do I have chocolate on my teeth?”
This time he did laugh.
“No. You look great.”
“Such a smooth liar,” she said, and then reached in the file drawer and took out another candy bar. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re the health-food cop. Poor guy. You don’t know what you’re missing.” She unwrapped a Snickers, nibbled the end and shifted into social-worker mode.
“You said you needed my help. What can I do for you, Officer?”
“Collin’s okay.”
Another thrill, this one as sweet as the caramel, and completely uncalled for, raced through her. Before she could wipe the smile off her face, he did it for her.
“I want you to help me find my brothers.”
She blinked, uncomprehending. “Your brothers?”
“Yeah.” Collin leaned forward, muscled forearms on his thighs as he clasped his hands in front of him. Steel intensity radiated from him as though the coming confidence was very difficult for him to share. “My little brothers, Drew and Ian, though neither of them are little now.”
She got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “When did you last see them?”
His answer hurt her heart. “More than twenty years ago.”
“Tell me,” she said simply, knowing for once when to keep quiet and let the other person do the talking. Whatever he had to share, in confidence, about his brothers was important to him.
Over the next fifteen minutes, during which Mia went through three more Snickers bars, Collin told a story all too familiar to a seasoned social worker. Oh, he spoke in vague, simplistic terms about his childhood, but Mia had worked in social services long enough to fill in the blanks. Collin and his brothers had been separated by the social system because of major issues in his family.
“What happened after that day in the principal’s office? Where did you go? Foster care?” she asked, hearing the compassion in her voice and wondering if he would resent it. But she had brothers she adored, too. She knew how devastated she would be if she couldn’t find one of them.
“Foster care never worked out for me. I went into a group home,” he said simply, and she heard the hurt through the cold retelling. “Ian was so little, not even five. Foster care, maybe even adoption, would be my best guess for him. He was small and sweet and cute. He could have made the adjustment, I think.” His nostrils flared. “I hope.”
“And your middle brother? Drew? What do you think happened to him?”
He shook his head. The skin over his high, handsome cheekbones drew tight, casting deep hollows in his face. Clearly, talking about the loss of his brothers distressed him. “Drew was a fighter. He would have had a harder time than I did. I remember the social worker that day saying he was headed to a special place or something like that.”
“A therapeutic home?”
“Maybe. I don’t remember.” He pinched at his upper lip, frustrated. “See? That’s the problem. I was a kid, too. My memories are more feelings than facts.”
And those feelings still cut into him with the power of a chain saw.
“Did you ever see or hear anything at all about them? Anything that could help us find them?” She didn’t know why she’d said us. She hadn’t agreed to do anything yet.
“The summer after we were separated, we both ended up at one of those summer-camp things they do for kids in the system. We immediately started making plans to run away together. But, like I said, Drew was a fighter. He got kicked out the second day. I didn’t even know about the trouble until he was gone.”
“And no one told you anything about him?”
“No more than I’ve told you. Twenty years of searching, of sticking my name in files and on search boards and registries hasn’t found them.” The skin on his knuckles alternated white and brown as he flexed and unflexed his clenched fists. “I’ve had leads, good ones, but they were always dead ends.”
And it’s killing you. All the things she’d wondered about him now made sense. His chilly reserve. The way he seemed isolated, a man alone.
Collin Grace had been alone most of his life. He’d been a child alone. Now he was a man alone.
To a woman surrounded by the warmth and noise and love of a big family, Collin’s situation was not only sad, it was tragic.
“Somewhere out there I have two brothers. I want them back.” And then as if the words came out without his permission, he murmured gruffly, “I need to know they’re okay.”
Of course he needed that. Mia’s training clicked through her head. As the oldest of the three boys, he’d been responsible for the others. Or at least, he’d thought he was. Having them taken away without a word left him believing he’d failed them.
Now she understood why he’d been so reluctant to take Mitchell under his wing. He was afraid of failing him, too.
The sudden insight almost brought tears to her eyes.
Mia tilted back her chair and drew in a breath, studying the poster on the far wall. The slogan, Social Work Is Love Made Visible, reminded her why she did what she did. The love of Christ in her, and through her, ministered to people like Collin, to kids like Mitchell. If she could help, she would.
“Twenty years is forever in the social services system. Do you really think I can find them if you haven’t had any success?”
“You know the system better than I do. You have access to records that I don’t even know exist. Records that I’m not allowed to see.”
Warning hackles rose on Mia’s back. She tried not to let them show. “You aren’t asking me to go into sealed records without permission, are you?”
“Would you?” Dark eyes studied her. He wasn’t pressing, just asking.
“No.” She’d done that once for her oldest brother, Gabe. The favor had cost her a job she loved and a certain amount of credibility with her peers. The bad decision had also cost her a great deal emotionally and spiritually. God had forgiven her, but she’d always felt as if she’d let Him down. “I will never compromise my professional or my Christian ethics.”
Again.
“Okay, then. Do what you can. You still have access to a lot of records, even the unsealed ones. I’ve looked everywhere I know, but that’s the problem. I don’t know how to navigate the system the way you would. I can’t seem to find much when it comes to child welfare records of twenty years ago.”
“Records from back then aren’t computerized.”
“I finally figured that one out. But where are they?”
“If they exist, they’re still in file cabinets somewhere or they could be piled in boxes in a storage warehouse.”
“Like police records.”
“Exactly.” She crumpled the half-dozen Snickers wrappers into a wad, dismayed to have consumed so many.
“Are you willing to try?”
“Are you willing to be Mitchell’s CAP? That’s what we call adults who volunteer through our Child Advocate Partners Program.” She would help Collin in his search no matter what, but Mitch might as well get a good mentor out of the deal.
“What do I have to do?”
“Some initial paperwork. Being a police officer simplifies the procedure since you already have clearances.”
“How much is the welfare office involved?”
“You don’t like us much, do you?”
He made a face that said he had good reason.
“Things are different now, Collin. We understand things about children today that we didn’t know then.”
He didn’t buy a word of it. “Yeah. Well.”
“If I help you and you become Mitch’s CAP, you’re going to be stuck with me probably more than you want to be.”
“As long as it’s you. And only you.”
Now why did that make her feel so good? “But you think I talk too much.”
The corner of his mouth hiked up. “You do.”
“But you’re willing to sacrifice?”
“Finding my brothers is worth anything.”
Ouch. “Sorry. I was teasing, but maybe I shouldn’t have. Finding your brothers is serious business.”
“No apology necessary.” He rose with athletic ease, bringing with him the vague scent of woodsy cologne and starched uniform. “I was teasing, too.”
He was? Nice to know he could. “I’ll need all the information you can give me about your brothers. Ages, names, dates you can remember, people you remember, places. Any little detail.”
From his shirt pocket, he withdrew a small spiral notebook, the kind all cops seemed to carry. “The basics are in here. But I have more information on my computer.”
“What kind of information?”
“The research I’ve done. Names and places I’ve already eliminated. Group homes, foster parents. I know a lot of places my brothers never were. I just can’t find where they are.”
He made the admission easily, but Mia read the hopelessness behind such a long and fruitless search. Twenty years was a long time to keep at it. But Collin Grace didn’t seem the kind that would ever give up.
And that was exactly the type of person she was, too.
“Everything you’ve investigated will be useful. Knowing where not to look is just as important as knowing where to look. The files and the computer will be helpful, but we may have to do some legwork, as well.” Now, why did the prospect of going somewhere with Collin sound so very, very appealing? “People are more comfortable with face-to-face questions about these kinds of things.”
“Whatever it takes.”
“I can’t make promises, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Fair enough.”
“Then I guess we have a deal. Will you go out and talk to Mitchell or do you want me to?”
Reluctance radiated from him in waves, but he’d made a deal and he was the kind of man who would keep it. Wasn’t he still trying to keep a promise he’d made when he was ten years old? A man like that didn’t back off from responsibility.
“I can contact him tomorrow,” she offered.
“We could both tell him now. You know what’s involved more than I do.”
She shook her head, more disappointed than was wise, considering how little she knew about Collin as a person.
“I’m slammed with extra work tonight. I’ll be here until seven at least.” And Mitch was a lot more interested in Collin than he was in Mia.
“Too bad,” he said. His expression was unreadable as usual so Mia didn’t know what to make of his comment. Too bad she couldn’t go with him? Or too bad she had so much work to do?
Either way, she watched him turn and stride out of her office and suffered a twinge of regret that she hadn’t gone along anyway. She could be dishonest and say she wanted another look at Mitchell’s living situation or that she needed to explain the program in more detail. But Mia was not dishonest. Even with herself. She had wanted to spend time with her enigmatic policeman.
And the notion was disturbing to say the least. She hadn’t dated anyone in a while. To find her interest piqued by a man who didn’t even seem to like her was a real puzzle.
He was a good cop, had a good reputation, and she’d had a sneak peek at the kindness he kept safely hidden. But he also carried a personal history that sometimes meant major emotional issues. Issues that might require counseling and work and, most importantly, healing from God.
And that was the big issue for Mia. Was Collin Grace a believer?
She reached for another Snickers.