Profile of Fear: Book Four of the Profile Series (Volume 4) by Alexa Grace

road.
    She hadn’t asked for her parents once. Not even when he mentioned talking to her mommy and daddy. That was odd. Most kids in this situation would be screaming for their parents. That Becca didn’t ask for either one sent an alarm through his brain. Something was off here. Why wasn’t she asking for them?
    “Where’s Willie?” Cameron demanded once he reached the patrol cars.
    “He’s here.” Larry Rice, one of the Sheriff’s rookie deputies, opened the back door of his cruiser.
    Cameron looked inside. “Willie, we have your little girl and we’ve called Child Protective Services.”
    “Good for you. What do you want? A medal? How about a medal shaped like a doughnut?”
    Ignoring the remark, Cameron knelt next to the car so he could get a better look at his suspect. Resting his head back, Willie struggled with his handcuffs and nervously scratched at open sores on his arms.
    “I just thought you’d like to know what was happening with your daughter.”
    “Are you talking about Becca?”
    “Who else would I be talking about?”
    “She ain’t my kid.”
    “You’re not Becca’s father?”
    “No. Are you hard of hearing? I just said that. Donda and I went through a rough patch several years ago and she ran off. When she returned, she was knocked up. So Becca’s not my kid. I could give a shit what Child Protective Services does with that brat. So get out of my face.”
    Slamming the vehicle door closed, Cameron glanced at Deputy Rice. “We’re done talking. Take him in and book him.”
    Deputy Mary Hesselgesser-Wright waited for him outside the second patrol car. As he approached, she opened the back door to reveal the second suspect sitting inside.
    With a smirk and a wave of her arm, Mary said, “In the back seat of police cruiser number two we have Donda Hicks, no one’s candidate for Mother of the Year.” All their earpieces were on the same frequency, and she’d obviously overheard his conversation with Willie. Apparently the deputy had made the same parental assessment of Donda as Cam had for the husband. A hint of a grin threatened Cameron’s serious expression before he bent down to talk to Donda.
    “Mrs. Hicks, I’m Sergeant Chase with the Sheriff’s Office. I’d like to talk to you about your daughter, Becca.”
    “What about her?” Donda’s response was more of a demand than a question. Emaciated, her dirty blond hair tied back in a ponytail, she was in constant movement in the car, twitching, scratching at her arms, and shaking. She was in bad need of a fix.
    “Thought you might want to know we’ve called Child Protective Services.”
    “There’s not a hell of a lot I can do about that, handcuffed in back of a police car. Now is there?” Donda scratched at her neck and glared at him.
    “Do you have family in the area? Somewhere Becca can stay?”
    “You’re kidding, right? My so-called family wants nothing to do with me or the kid.”
    “How do you know they wouldn’t take Becca in?”
    “Because I tried to give her away, and none of them wanted her. To be honest, I don’t want her, either. Christ, I’m nineteen. I never wanted to be a mother. I’m too young to be tied down by a snotty brat. She’s better off with someone else.”
    Cameron closed the door and pushed away from the vehicle. Clenching his jaw, he cursed and tried to get a handle on his anger. He’d known stray cats who were better mothers than Donda Hicks. He made a mental note to add child endangerment and neglect to her growing list of charges.
    With no relatives to take her in, the girl would go into the child protective system. There was a good chance Becca could get lost in the foster home system and get bounced from place to place, never find a loving parent and a permanent home. Was that a worse fate than living with an addicted mother who didn’t care about her? Probably not, but he couldn’t bear to think of the child in either situation.
    If his older brother, Brody, were here,