two hours before heneeded to be up. He had three very special visits to make. How they went would determine his final decision about filing suit against Bethany. His boss would agree with him either way. If Jordan called and said he'd changed his mind, that the statue was not as offensive as he remembered it to be, Hawkins would never mention it again.
Fifteen minutes later, he drove up in front of the Bethany courthouse and found a parking space. As he made his way up the steps, Jordan caught his reflection in the mirror. He prided himself on looking nice and today was no exception. A professional wardrobe should make a statement and his consisted of Armani suits, starched buttoned-downs, and soft leather dress shoes.
He cursed himself for not driving to Bethany and doing this sooner. Five years sooner. Back when the clerks at the courthouse had first refused to find his sister's file. He'd made more than twenty calls in the months and years since then, but always the answer was the same: “The records are sealed, sir. No one can get that information.”
Jordan's heart beat hard in anticipation. He'd learned a few tricks since 1995. The only way past the fortress of red tape was to show up in person. He walked up to a counter labeled Records and waited his turn. Would this be it? In the next few minutes would he actually find out where they'd sent his sister?
“Next.” A stout woman barked the word and cast an impatient glance at Jordan. He clutched his briefcase to his side as he moved up against the counter and smiled at the woman. Her name tag read Olivia.
Often women were moved to do what Jordan wanted simply because of his looks. Olivia scowled at him, waiting for him to speak. Somehow he feared this was not one of those times. “Hi. I'm an attorney working on a local case.” He smiled as thoughthat were all the explanation he needed to provide. “I need to check out a file.”
She scrutinized him, her face a twist of wrinkles and bad atti-tude. “You new around here?”
Jordan tried to look unaffected by her frigid tone. “Actually, I'm from New York. One of your citizens in Bethany asked me to consult on a matter. Can I give you the file name?”
Olivia shifted her weight, her lips a single line of distrust. “What local citizen?”
There was a beat while Jordan's mind raced for an answer. “He asked me not to mention his name. The lawsuit is highly confidential.”
“You got ID?”
Jordan pulled out his wallet and flashed her several pieces, including his Bar Association membership card. Finally he tossed her a business card. Jordan Riley, attorney at law
Come on, lady, what d'ya want?
When he could think of nothing else to hand her, he smiled again and waited.
Olivia released a heavy sigh. “All right, what file do you need?”
Did all the clerks at the courthouse have Olivia's charming demeanor or was he just lucky? He cleared his throat.” It's a Social Services file. Mother died, two kids were sent to different foster homes. Should be two files, actually. I need the one under the daughter's name—Heidi Riley. No relation.”
He hadn't spoken his sister's name for years. The pounding of his heart was so loud within him he figured everyone in the room could easily hear it. He watched Olivia write down the information and waited for her to turn around and head into the archives room for the file.
Instead she shook her head and set down her pen, like a judge rapping his gavel on the bench. “Social Services cases are closed to the public.”
Jordan forced a chuckle to cover up his frustration. “I told you, I'm an attorney. I need the file for a case I'm working on.”
Olivia planted her hands on her hips. “I don't care who you are, or what high-falutin’ big city you're from. You're not getting a Social Services file. Cases where children are placed with foster families are of the utmost privacy in the state of Pennsylvania.”
Panic replaced frustration as Jordan saw his
Fifteen minutes later, he drove up in front of the Bethany courthouse and found a parking space. As he made his way up the steps, Jordan caught his reflection in the mirror. He prided himself on looking nice and today was no exception. A professional wardrobe should make a statement and his consisted of Armani suits, starched buttoned-downs, and soft leather dress shoes.
He cursed himself for not driving to Bethany and doing this sooner. Five years sooner. Back when the clerks at the courthouse had first refused to find his sister's file. He'd made more than twenty calls in the months and years since then, but always the answer was the same: “The records are sealed, sir. No one can get that information.”
Jordan's heart beat hard in anticipation. He'd learned a few tricks since 1995. The only way past the fortress of red tape was to show up in person. He walked up to a counter labeled Records and waited his turn. Would this be it? In the next few minutes would he actually find out where they'd sent his sister?
“Next.” A stout woman barked the word and cast an impatient glance at Jordan. He clutched his briefcase to his side as he moved up against the counter and smiled at the woman. Her name tag read Olivia.
Often women were moved to do what Jordan wanted simply because of his looks. Olivia scowled at him, waiting for him to speak. Somehow he feared this was not one of those times. “Hi. I'm an attorney working on a local case.” He smiled as thoughthat were all the explanation he needed to provide. “I need to check out a file.”
She scrutinized him, her face a twist of wrinkles and bad atti-tude. “You new around here?”
Jordan tried to look unaffected by her frigid tone. “Actually, I'm from New York. One of your citizens in Bethany asked me to consult on a matter. Can I give you the file name?”
Olivia shifted her weight, her lips a single line of distrust. “What local citizen?”
There was a beat while Jordan's mind raced for an answer. “He asked me not to mention his name. The lawsuit is highly confidential.”
“You got ID?”
Jordan pulled out his wallet and flashed her several pieces, including his Bar Association membership card. Finally he tossed her a business card. Jordan Riley, attorney at law
Come on, lady, what d'ya want?
When he could think of nothing else to hand her, he smiled again and waited.
Olivia released a heavy sigh. “All right, what file do you need?”
Did all the clerks at the courthouse have Olivia's charming demeanor or was he just lucky? He cleared his throat.” It's a Social Services file. Mother died, two kids were sent to different foster homes. Should be two files, actually. I need the one under the daughter's name—Heidi Riley. No relation.”
He hadn't spoken his sister's name for years. The pounding of his heart was so loud within him he figured everyone in the room could easily hear it. He watched Olivia write down the information and waited for her to turn around and head into the archives room for the file.
Instead she shook her head and set down her pen, like a judge rapping his gavel on the bench. “Social Services cases are closed to the public.”
Jordan forced a chuckle to cover up his frustration. “I told you, I'm an attorney. I need the file for a case I'm working on.”
Olivia planted her hands on her hips. “I don't care who you are, or what high-falutin’ big city you're from. You're not getting a Social Services file. Cases where children are placed with foster families are of the utmost privacy in the state of Pennsylvania.”
Panic replaced frustration as Jordan saw his
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