The mother—and her orphaned children.”
Alex blinked, spinning a pencil on his desk between two fingers. They both watched the yellow blur as it slowed, then stopped.
“Can you move over a little?” Alex said. “I need to look at something.” He wheeled his swivel chair to the couch, started moving stacks of papers.
Jane hopped aside, watching with amusement. “The piles of files system, huh? You know, if you scanned all that into your computer—”
“Trust me.” Alex didn’t look up. “I know I have it.”
Damn it. Jane’s cell phone vibrated against her thigh. Alex was deep into his treasure hunt, so she sneaked a peek at the screen. Tuck. Damn. Jane had cut her off in mid-sentence when she’d called during the news conference. She let it go to voice mail and slid the phone back into her pocket.
“Here. Ha. I knew it.” Alex handed her a stack of papers held together with a black metal clamp. “The most recent Health and Human Services Inspector General report on the Massachusetts foster care system. Might be some leads here. I printed it after the thing with the Hyde Park kid—remember, the one who got put in that disgusting basement? Thought we might do a foster story someday.”
“You kill me,” Jane said, taking the report. “How do you always—?”
“And Ryland?”
Jane’s phone buzzed again. She tried to ignore it. “Yeah?”
“You might be on to something. If Phillip and Phoebe are about to enter the foster care bureaucracy? Maybe you can try to protect them.”
*
“ Now? We’re going in now ?” Kellianne whispered, even though no one else could hear except her brothers—Kevin, on his billionth cigarette, and Keef, so out of it his head lolled against the car window. One earbud had popped out, and she heard the pounding bass of some heavy metal crap. “Did we get the okay from the cops? I never heard anything.”
“‘Did we get the okay from the cops?’” Kevin used that mocking voice, like she was some four-year-old. “Ooh, let me check my special notebook.”
“You’re such an asshole.” She was honestly going to k—
“What’s it to you?” Kevin shot back.
“Huh?” Keefer sat up, blinking. “What time is it?”
“Show time.” Kevin twisted around in the front seat, narrowing his eyes at her. “Listen, sister. If it makes you feel any better? Keefer and I’ll do it. By ourselves. We’re not gonna clean till later, but we’ve gotta go scope.”
Kellianne puffed out a breath. It was the middle of the freaking night. Almost. The clock on the van’s dash said 11:15. The cops had gone about half an hour before. The cute one by himself in the cruiser, the tall one in the white van with that woman. And the whole time, for freaking ever, they’d been rotting here in the Afterwards van. “What can you do tonight that you can’t do tomorrow?”
“Who died and put you in charge?” Kevin said. “Keefer, you set?”
“Rock and roll,” Keef said.
15
“Listen, Tuck, I gotta interrupt you.” Jane turned off the ignition. All the way to the Riverside train station this morning, Tuck insisted Jane was “the only one” who could help her. No wonder Tuck had been such a kickass reporter. She made it impossible to say no. “This Ella Gavin is going to freak if I walk in with you.”
Jane draped her arms across the steering wheel of her Audi, staring through the windshield at the front window of the Dunkin’ Donuts. The wipers flapped against the tentative snow, the defroster blasted on the highest setting, the radio muttered the news. Coffee-toting commuters, heads down and in full Monday back-to-work mode, hustled through the flakes to their buses and trains.
“What if she recognizes me from when I was on Channel Eleven?” Jane continued. “Even if she doesn’t, who are we going to say I am?”
“You worry too much, Jane.” Tuck unclicked her passenger-side seat belt, then flipped the sun visor down, checking her glossy pale lipstick in
Alex blinked, spinning a pencil on his desk between two fingers. They both watched the yellow blur as it slowed, then stopped.
“Can you move over a little?” Alex said. “I need to look at something.” He wheeled his swivel chair to the couch, started moving stacks of papers.
Jane hopped aside, watching with amusement. “The piles of files system, huh? You know, if you scanned all that into your computer—”
“Trust me.” Alex didn’t look up. “I know I have it.”
Damn it. Jane’s cell phone vibrated against her thigh. Alex was deep into his treasure hunt, so she sneaked a peek at the screen. Tuck. Damn. Jane had cut her off in mid-sentence when she’d called during the news conference. She let it go to voice mail and slid the phone back into her pocket.
“Here. Ha. I knew it.” Alex handed her a stack of papers held together with a black metal clamp. “The most recent Health and Human Services Inspector General report on the Massachusetts foster care system. Might be some leads here. I printed it after the thing with the Hyde Park kid—remember, the one who got put in that disgusting basement? Thought we might do a foster story someday.”
“You kill me,” Jane said, taking the report. “How do you always—?”
“And Ryland?”
Jane’s phone buzzed again. She tried to ignore it. “Yeah?”
“You might be on to something. If Phillip and Phoebe are about to enter the foster care bureaucracy? Maybe you can try to protect them.”
*
“ Now? We’re going in now ?” Kellianne whispered, even though no one else could hear except her brothers—Kevin, on his billionth cigarette, and Keef, so out of it his head lolled against the car window. One earbud had popped out, and she heard the pounding bass of some heavy metal crap. “Did we get the okay from the cops? I never heard anything.”
“‘Did we get the okay from the cops?’” Kevin used that mocking voice, like she was some four-year-old. “Ooh, let me check my special notebook.”
“You’re such an asshole.” She was honestly going to k—
“What’s it to you?” Kevin shot back.
“Huh?” Keefer sat up, blinking. “What time is it?”
“Show time.” Kevin twisted around in the front seat, narrowing his eyes at her. “Listen, sister. If it makes you feel any better? Keefer and I’ll do it. By ourselves. We’re not gonna clean till later, but we’ve gotta go scope.”
Kellianne puffed out a breath. It was the middle of the freaking night. Almost. The clock on the van’s dash said 11:15. The cops had gone about half an hour before. The cute one by himself in the cruiser, the tall one in the white van with that woman. And the whole time, for freaking ever, they’d been rotting here in the Afterwards van. “What can you do tonight that you can’t do tomorrow?”
“Who died and put you in charge?” Kevin said. “Keefer, you set?”
“Rock and roll,” Keef said.
15
“Listen, Tuck, I gotta interrupt you.” Jane turned off the ignition. All the way to the Riverside train station this morning, Tuck insisted Jane was “the only one” who could help her. No wonder Tuck had been such a kickass reporter. She made it impossible to say no. “This Ella Gavin is going to freak if I walk in with you.”
Jane draped her arms across the steering wheel of her Audi, staring through the windshield at the front window of the Dunkin’ Donuts. The wipers flapped against the tentative snow, the defroster blasted on the highest setting, the radio muttered the news. Coffee-toting commuters, heads down and in full Monday back-to-work mode, hustled through the flakes to their buses and trains.
“What if she recognizes me from when I was on Channel Eleven?” Jane continued. “Even if she doesn’t, who are we going to say I am?”
“You worry too much, Jane.” Tuck unclicked her passenger-side seat belt, then flipped the sun visor down, checking her glossy pale lipstick in
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