Shortly after nine, the social worker arrived along with Chief Rainmaker. By then Kade was ready for a fight. Itching for one. Something was way wrong in Davey’s world, and hard as he tried not to go there, Kade imagined the worst.
After sharing kitchen duty with Sophie to prepare a decent breakfast for Davey—an event he’d found pleasantly distracting—they’d settled at Ida June’s Chippendale coffee table with a deck of cards Sophie had supplied.
“I’m a teacher,” she said when he’d raised a curious eyebrow at some of the things she’d taken from the oversize tote. “What can I say? Always be prepared.”
“Better than a Boy Scout,” he’d replied. She’d rewarded his joke with a smile.
Now he was teaching Davey the fine art of War, a man’s game if ever there was one. Davey, the little wart, had quickly discovered the joys of taking his adult opponents’ lower-numbered cards and was amassing quite a pile. The silent, breathy giggle was heartbreakingly cute. Cute enough to make Kade mad all over again. Somebody was gonna pay for this boy’s pain. The sooner he could get back into the investigation the better for everyone.
When the doorbell chimed, Kade left his two guests to battle for the remaining dozen cards.
“He’s staying,” he said to the social worker the minute they shook hands. If the abrupt statement shocked Howard Prichard, he didn’t let on.
“Chief Rainmaker filled me in on the details.” Prichard ran a speculative gaze over Kade’s face. “I’m still curious as to how a little boy who’d been here only once could find his way back.”
Kade bristled. Was Prichard making an accusation? “So am I, but he did. Ask him yourself.”
He whirled and led them into the living room just as Davey slapped a nine on Sophie’s two. Sophie pretended insult, laughing, and Davey’s face glowed with pleasure. When he saw Howard Prichard, the pleasure evaporated. He bolted up from his spot on the floor beside the coffee table and looked wildly around. Sophie took his hand and tugged. The boy collapsed against her, clinging.
Kade ground his back teeth in frustration. “Thanks to your red tape he was up half the night, in the cold, and vulnerable to any kind of predator.” He hoped Prichard had sense enough to understand that predators didn’t have to be wild animals. “He stays with me and he stays safe.”
Sophie, with more diplomacy than Kade could muster, levered up from the floor and brought Davey with her still clinging. “Why don’t you gentlemen sit down so we can discuss Davey’s situation? Would you care for some coffee?”
“Nothing for me, Sophie. Thanks.” Jesse Rainmaker stood behind Ida June’s stuffed chair, his thick brown fingers resting on the green upholstery. He was solid and calm and coolheaded in the way Kade once had been. Stay aloof. Don’t let it touch you personally. It’s all about the job.
“I’m fine, too. Thank you,” Prichard said, waving away her offer as he settled on the sofa.
Good, Kade thought. Much as he respected Rainmaker, he was in no mood to be hospitable. Forget the coffee and niceties. He wasn’t letting another kid slip through the cracks.
With a soothing hand on Davey’s back and while holding him close to her hip in a protective, motherly manner, Sophie said, “Howard, I’m sure we can work out a reasonable solution to this problem. You’ve known me for years. My school does background checks on everyone and I’ve taught in this town long enough for you to know I care about children. Kade McKendrick is a police officer with federal-level clearances living here with Ida June Click, whom you’ve also known forever. They are certainly capable of caring for Davey until his family is found.”
Kade shot her a sour look. He would find Davey’s family. Nothing could stop him. But he wasn’t expecting them to want Davey back. Miss Optimistic couldn’t get it into her happy head that the world wasn’t all cookie-nice and Christmas-peaceful.
“I’ll take him,” he said to Sophie. “You have your job and your Christmas projects.”
“As long as he’s with one of us.” She rubbed the back of Davey’s hair as he gazed up at her, listening to every word. The kid was sharp. Had to be to find his way here in the dark. It would sure help if he could talk.
“What do you say, Howard?” Sophie insisted with gentle steel. “Can we work this out?”
The social worker shuffled through a briefcase. Kade’s fist tightened at his sides. A boy shouldn’t be at the mercy of a piece of paper.
“Chief Rainmaker and I have discussed the situation at length. I also spoke with the foster family. First, though, I’m duty-bound to interview the child.”
“The child has a name,” Kade said with more vehemence than he’d intended.
Prichard gave him a reproving glance. “The chief and I will need to talk to Davey alone.”
“No.”
“Mr. McKendrick, I’m not the enemy. We all have Davey’s best interest in mind. A man in law enforcement should understand the need for cooperation in these matters.”
Sophie’s soft fingertips grazed his arm. “Kade, let’s go in the kitchen and have another cup of coffee.” To Davey, she said, “Davey, these men are only going to talk to you. They are not going to take you anywhere. Okay?”
The kid looked doubtful. Kade bent to whisper in his ear. “I’ll tackle them if they try. Deal?”
Davey hunched his narrow shoulders in a shy grin and nodded. After a few more words of assurance from both he and Sophie, Kade scooped Davey up in a football hold and planted him in a chair in front of the social worker. Rainmaker came around front and went to a knee beside the chair. Kade felt better knowing Rainmaker was in the room. Rainmaker and Sheba. With a wink, he chucked Davey under the chin before following Sophie into the kitchen.
Sophie held up the carafe. “Do you really want more of this? It smells like burned rubber.”
She’d hoped her statement, though basically true, would lighten him up.
“I’ll pass.” Kade went to the fridge for a glass of milk, his glare focused on the living room.
“They aren’t here to hurt him, Kade.” She mustered up her best soothe-the-beast voice, the one she used when fifth graders fought to a point of hysteria. Most times Sophie didn’t let anything make her anxious for long, but Davey could be an exception. He was so vulnerable, no doubt the reason Kade was wound up tighter than a double Slinky on steroids.
“Sorry to get intense on you.” He downed the milk and then plunked the glass in the sink with a frustrated sigh. “I’m a little edgy this morning.”
Only this morning? Sophie stifled a snort. When was Kade not edgy? “Davey’s blessed to have you in his corner.”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shot a glance toward the quiet mutter of voices in the living room. “You, too.” He grinned then, a tiny thing, but a grin just the same. “We’re quite the pair of crusaders, aren’t we?”
They were. He, intense and cynical. She, the eternal optimist. “We’re a good balance. And we both care about that little boy in there.”
“Someone needs to.”
“Agreed. I have a plan. Want to hear it?”
“There’s a choice?”
She made a face at him, even though she was pleased at the humor attempt. Maybe she’d lighten him up after all. “I think Howard will go for it.”
Howard Prichard appeared in the doorway. “Go for what?”
Davey scooted under the social worker’s arm and rushed to Kade. Sheba scooted in behind him, toenails slipping a little on the linoleum in her hurry to keep up.
“Davey needs to be in school, but because it’s only three weeks until Christmas break and we aren’t sure how long it will take to find his family, I have a somewhat creative suggestion. That is, if you’re agreeable to Kade and Ida June being his temporary foster family. Along with Sheba, of course.”
“It’s all about the dog,” Kade muttered.
Sophie shot him an amused glance.
Prichard smiled, too. “Yes, he is fond of the dog. For a child who can’t speak, he can make his wishes very clear. I think we can all agree that the best thing for Davey at this point is to be in an environment where he feels comfortable and safe. From all appearances, that’s with one of you. So, if the plan is acceptable to all parties, Davey will remain here temporarily. We’ll file this as an emergency placement and take care of the details as we go.”
Relief came swiftly, a surprise because Sophie hadn’t realized how anxious she’d been. God always worked things out, didn’t He? “Other than finding Davey safe in Kade’s garage, that’s the best news of the day. Thank you, Howard.”
“What was this plan of yours?”
“School.”
“Yes, school is an issue. With his special needs, testing and paperwork will be required. We’ll have to start from the beginning and do a complete battery, including IQ, placement, hearing, vision.” He sighed and straightened a conservative blue tie. “Everything.”
“Let me talk to my principal. I think we can work this out. With only three weeks remaining until Christmas break, I’m going to suggest that Davey be allowed in my classroom to help with the annual cookie project. At various times throughout the day, the special-needs department can pull him out for preliminary placement tests and make suggestions for after the holidays. I can pick him up each morning and bring him back each evening.”
Kade shifted toward her, eyeing her curiously. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. If it’s okay with him. What do you say, Davey? Would you like to go to school with me and have fun with some other kids?”
A frown appeared between Davey’s blue eyes. He looked to Kade.
Kade lifted his palms in a helpless gesture. “School’s a given, buddy. Everyone goes.”
Davey shook his head back and forth and shrugged. The adults exchanged looks. Kade bent to the child. “Haven’t you been going to school?”
Davey shook his head no.
“Never?”
Another no, accompanied by a very worried expression in eyes as blue as a cornflower crayon.
Kade’s jaw flexed. He blew out a gust of air. “Well, that puts a new spin on things.” He placed a hand on Davey’s shoulder. “No sweat. Sophie will take care of you. Right, Miss B.?”
Sophie smoothed the top of Davey’s hair and let her hand rest there. The once-matted moptop was silky smooth and clean, thanks to Kade and Ida June. “Absolutely. You can go to school with me and I’ll take care of everything from there. Okay? I don’t want you to worry one bit. It’s Christmas time! The best time of year. Worrying is against the rules at Christmas.” With more cheer than she felt, she playfully tapped his nose. Davey rewarded her with a rubbery, close-lipped grin. “We’ll have so much fun, making and decorating cookies and getting ready for the Bethlehem Walk and the Victorian Christmas events. You’re going to love those. You might even want to be in the parade.”
Davey’s eyes widened at the mention of a parade. He nodded eagerly.
“Well, it’s all settled, then,” the social worker said. “The pair of you seem to have the situation in hand, so I’ll leave you to work out the details. Call me if any problems arise.” He handed Kade a business card. “I’ll be in touch Monday.”
As soon as the other two men left and Davey was busy wrestling Sheba for a chew toy, Sophie said, “I should go.”
“Why?”
The blunt question surprised her. “I don’t know.”
“Then stay.” He shoved off the doorjamb he’d been holding up. “Davey.”
Oh, right, for Davey. Of course, for Davey. What was wrong with her? “Saturdays are normally pretty full, but I can stay awhile until we’re sure he’s all right.”
“I can’t believe he’s never been to school. Do you think perhaps we misunderstood?”
“No.” Kade made a noise of frustration. “I was hoping to trace school records. Easy to find a person that way. Which means the investigation into his identity just got tougher.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. She knew nothing about investigating a lost child or anything for that matter. Police work was off her grid. Where would he start? How would he ever discover anything about Davey’s past?
They both stared for one silent, concerned beat at the boy happily playing with the affable dog. When Kade pushed a hand against his stomach—a stomach she knew bothered him when he worried—Sophie knew she would stay awhile. There were two males here that needed fixing and she was a fixer.
“There’s only one thing we can do at this point,” she said.
The cynic raised a doubtful eyebrow. “What?”
She grinned a cheeky grin. “Bake cookies.”
The place was chaos. Granted, her classroom was organized chaos, but noisy and vibrant just the same. Far different from the quiet Saturday morning spent baking cookies with Davey and Kade. Two males, one terse and one mute, didn’t generate a lot of noise. Nonetheless, Sophie couldn’t get them out of her head this busy Monday as she and her fifth graders began the cookie project in earnest.
Sophie stole a quick glance toward the narrow window in her classroom door—a tiny space surrounded by bright paper poinsettias and shiny red garland—praying the noise didn’t seep out into the hallway and disturb the sixth graders next door. More than that, she hoped the principal didn’t decide to pay an unannounced visit to her classroom today.
“Miss B., our group estimates eight pounds of flour.” The speaker was Shyla, a red-haired girl with freckles across her nose. Her twin, Skyla, listened in with an identical, perplexed expression. “Zoey’s group says we need five. Who’s right?”
A babble of voices from surrounding groups all tried to speak at once, defending their estimations. Each year she divided the students into cooperative groups with diverse assignments. Set up in pods around the room, they began with math, estimating and figuring amounts of supplies needed for their groups’ baking, costs of the goods, expected gross and net profits. The early days were always the most chaotic as kids got the hang of the project. Sophie, of course, loved every minute of it, even though she went home every evening exhausted.
“I think we have a mistake here somewhere, Shyla.” She tapped a finger against Shyla’s notebook figures. “Look at your recipes. Take the amount of flour you need for each batch of cookies. Multiply times the number of batches. Then divide that into the number of cups in a pound of flour. Remember, we’re using an estimate here to have plenty.”
Shyla’s eyes glazed over. Sophie laughed and turned the child toward the screen hanging on the wall. “The data is on the SMART Board. Go. Check your figures. Teamwork, sugar doodle. And remind Trevor I’ll need his cost estimate once you’re done.”
Shyla scooted away, a frown between her eyebrows as she and her twin debated the figures. Across the room Zoey, the local vet’s daughter, ran her fingers across braille instructions and spoke to her best friend, Delaney Markham. Sophie’s heart warmed at the way the two little girls had latched on to Davey and drawn him into their group. In two hours’ time, the blind girl and the mute boy had worked out a simple, effective process of communication with bouncy blonde Delaney as their go-between.
Sophie’s thoughts drifted to this morning when she’d picked up Davey for school. He had been nervous and uncertain about this new adventure even though she and Kade had reassured him in every way they could think of. It was hard to know what worried a child with no voice to express his feelings. So far, he made no attempt to communicate in writing either, a fact that concerned both Sophie and the special-needs director.
Wanting to be sure he was okay, she made her way to the pod of four children seated around a grouping of desks. “How are things going over here?”
“Good. We have everything done except our grocery list.” Zoey typed something on her laptop.
“How about you, Davey? Everything okay?”
He nodded, his gaze moving around the classroom with avid interest.
“He’s helping us, Miss B.,” Delaney said. “He’ll be real good at decorating. See?” She tugged a drawing from beneath Davey’s hand and pushed it toward Sophie. “He’s drawing and coloring the cookies so we can have a plan of attack when we start working.”
Sophie’s heart warmed at the obvious attempt to include Davey. “I knew this team was perfect for him.”
She leaned down to hug the girls’ shoulders.
“You smell good, Miss B.”
“Well, thank you, Zoey. So do you.”
The dark-haired girl beamed. “Mom let me use her sweet pea spray.”
“Mom” Sophie knew was actually her stepmother, Cheyenne Bowman, who ran the local women’s shelter. Zoey, already a strong child thanks to her father, had bloomed with Cheyenne in her life.
“Miss Bartholomew?” Delaney said. “There’s a man looking in our door.”
Sophie’s heart clutched. Biff liked order and quiet. He’d been accepting of her plan for Davey, but he was always a little sketchy about her loosely structured activities.
She schooled herself to turn slowly and remain composed as though her classroom was not the loudest in the building. Before her brain could sort out the man’s identity, Davey shot up, nearly knocking over his chair, and raced toward the door.
Sophie’s heart clutched for a far different reason. Kade McKendrick’s brown eyes squinted through the glass. When he caught her eye, he pointed a finger at Davey and raised his eyebrows.
By now, Hannah, the nosy Rosy of fifth grade, had spied the visitor and plowed through her classmates like a bowling ball to open the door.
“Thank you, Hannah.” Sophie parted the sea of nosy students.
“Who is he? Davey’s dad?” Hannah shoved her glasses up with a wrinkle of her nose and peered intently at Kade. “Are you Davey’s dad? Why can’t he talk? Is he really in fifth grade? He looks too little to me.”
Davey had Kade’s legs in a stranglehold. Kade looked at Sophie with a dazed expression. “You do this all day?”
Sophie chuckled. Everyone asked that.
Irrepressible Hannah hadn’t budged. “I’m Hannah. If you’re not Davey’s dad, who are you? Are you Miss B.’s boyfriend? My mom says she’s too pretty to be an old maid, but she never goes out with anyone. Wait till I tell her.”
Face heating up faster than a cookie oven, Sophie said more emphatically, “Hannah, please. You may go back to your group now.”
The serious tone did the trick. Not the least offended, Hannah returned to her group, but the frequent glances and loud whispers about Miss B. and her boyfriend kept coming.
“Sorry,” Sophie said, cold hands to hot cheeks. “Hannah is a gossip columnist in training.”
“I shouldn’t have interrupted.” He pointed back down the hallway, his tan leather jacket pulling open to reveal a black pullover. He looked really good this morning, shaved, hair in an intentional muss, and he smelled even better. She’d yet to distinguish his cologne, but she’d know it anywhere. The musk and spice had tortured her, deliciously so, on Saturday and had stayed in her head all day Sunday. A man had no right to smell better than chocolate-chip cookies.
“I checked in at the office,” he was saying. “The security in this building is terrible. No visitor’s badge. No ID. Nothing.”
“Redemption is a safe town. We trust people.”
“I don’t.”
“Really?” She cocked her head. “What a news flash.”
He curled his lip at her, more a cynic’s sneer than a smile. “How’s Davey handling all this...this—” he waved a hand around the room “—whatever it is.”
“We’re doing our groundwork for the project. Zoey, Delaney and Ross have taken him under their wing. He’s thriving, aren’t you, Davey?”
Davey nodded, though both adults figured he didn’t comprehend the word.
“Having fun, eh, buddy?” Kade asked.
Davey nodded again and pointed at his group. The little girls waved while Ross, as blond as Davey and easily the brightest boy in the class, scribbled away at his notebook. His dad was the town physician and Ross already felt the pressure to succeed. A serious kid, Sophie put him in Zoey’s group to brighten him up. No one could hang out with Zoey and Delaney and not have a good time.
“How do you actually bake cookies in here?” Kade asked. “No oven.”
“We have some volunteer moms who head up the groups on baking days while the cafeteria ladies supervise the ovens. It works.”
“Crazy.” Expression still wary and a little dazed, he patted Davey’s shoulder and said, “Head back to the group, buddy. I need to talk to Miss B.”
Davey clung for one more leg hug before doing as he was told.
“He’s adjusting,” she said, gaze following Davey until he settled again. As she turned back to Kade, the now-familiar tingle of awareness started up again. She tamped it down. This was her classroom and her students were her main focus, not Kade, no matter how appealing or unnerving. “At first, he was very shy, but now that he knows his little group, he’s loosening up more.”
“Anyone giving him a hard time about his voice?” From the narrow gaze and hard tone, he might have added, “If they are, I’ll beat them up.”
The thought, of course, was ridiculous. Sophie couldn’t quite envision a grown man, a law-enforcement professional, going toe-to-toe with a ten-year-old. But Kade would definitely protect and defend.
She smiled, glad he couldn’t read her thoughts. “Kids are curious, but no one is cruel. They’re used to Zoey’s blindness and I think that helps them accept others with disabilities. But just in case, I put him with a group of very nice children.”
“Glad to hear it.” He shifted, hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I guess I should go.”
He pivoted to leave.
“Wait.” Sophie caught the slick leather of his jacket and held on as she cast a practiced glance over the classroom. The students were working cooperatively. Loudly, but without problems. No need for Kade to rush away. Davey was clearly reassured by his visit. Okay, so she was a little juiced to see him, too. No harm in that, was there? “Any progress today on Davey’s identity?”
“Nothing concrete. I spent the morning with Jesse Rainmaker. Good man.”
“He is.”
“He’s doing all his small department can do.” His expression said that wasn’t enough, and she was sure Jesse Rainmaker felt the same. A small-town police department stretched to have the resources and manpower for daily operations.
“So, where do we go from here?” Sophie turned to watch her class while listening to Kade. Group work could go sour quickly without her watchful eye. “I want to help, but I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m getting the word out. Rainmaker’s men, when they can, are doing a house to house. I put a notice in the paper this morning along with the snapshot you took of Davey and Sheba.” He shifted again, boots scuffing on the tile, obviously out of his element in a classroom full of ten-year-olds. Dads almost always reacted this way. Uneasy, watchful, cutely pathetic until they’d acclimated. She loved when dads visited. Not that Kade was anyone’s dad, but still...
“What about the surrounding towns?” she asked. “I’m convinced Davey is not from Redemption.”
“I’m working on that. I have a list of area newspapers to email or telephone this afternoon. Hopefully, with enough publicity, we can dig up someone who knows something.”
From the back of the room, a strident voice called, “Miss B., Jacob is not cooperating. He says the cookie project stinks and I stink.” The speaker sniffed his sleeve. “I don’t stink and if he doesn’t shut up, I’m gonna...”
Sophie lifted a palm up like a stop sign. “Stop. Right there.” To Kade, she said, “I have to get back to business.”
“Need me to knock a couple of heads?”
She wasn’t sure if he was joking. “Maybe later.”
“Anytime.” He backed out of the room. “See you after school.”
Davey saw Kade’s intention and rushed his knees again. Sophie, already on the move toward the disagreement in the back, figured Kade could handle Davey. By the time she’d settled the argument and looked up again, Davey was back at the tables with his group, her door was closed and Kade was gone.