2 Back to Work

"Lori! I need you, stat!"

My head practically jumped off the desk and I scrambled a moment before realizing I was at work. Thankfully, my boss, Sherry Michaelson, hadn't noticed I was asleep at my cubicle. I powerwalked as discreetly as I could in a pencil skirt and heels to Sherry's office.

"You rang?"

"Don't be smart with me, Lori Latham." She rubbed her forehead in agitation. "Sit down, we need to discuss the Culverwell case."

I put on my best confused look. "I thought they were going back to their biological father today."

"They were." She sighed deeply and slammed the case folder on the desk. "Culverwell's dead. Knifed in an alley, wallet missing. The police only knew who he was because his fingerprints were in the system."

Of course they were. He would have been fingerprinted the moment he was arrested on suspicion of child abuse.

"That's horrible," I shuddered. I did feel sorry for the poor soul who had found my handiwork. It hadn't been pretty.

"And now those kids have nowhere to go. Their current foster parents go out of town for a month in three days. They thought it'd be wrapped up by then." Sherry's forehead rubbing grew more persistent.

"What about the Abernathys?" I suggested. Nice couple, mid-thirties. Good record of happy foster kids. The teenage girl they had adopted from foster care a few years ago had just graduated high school with honors and moved out to go to UCLA.

Sherry perked up. "How did I not think of them? With Alicia out of the house they're eligible to foster again without any additional checks. You're a lifesaver, Lori."

You have no idea. "Just doing my job," I said with a smile. "How about you call them while I wrap up the Culverwells' paperwork?"

As Sherry dialed, I walked out of the office feeling supremely satisfied. I was good at my job. Very good. I always made sure the children under my care ended up in safe, happy situations. Even if I had to resort to more…unconventional methods.

The paperwork had barely made it to the right box when Sherry waved me over again. "The Abernathys are ecstatic. You always do know how to place them." Her admiration warmed my cold soul. "I'd like you to head over to the Culverwells' current foster home and take them over to the Abernathys' place. Take Jonathan with you."

Tears filled my eyes. I loved seeing the fruit of my labors pay off. "Thank you so much, Sherry."

She waved off my gratitude. "You deserve to be there when they hear the good news. You made it happen after all."

I had to cover my wry smile. If only she knew how true that was. I walked over to Jonathan's desk and slapped a DIY manicured hand on the table. "You, me, the Culverwells' place, right now."

He looked up at me with a warm smile. I always suspected Jon was interested in me but I couldn't understand why. I was painfully thin but surprisingly strong from constant parkour and sporadic eating habits. Gaunt, even. Medium blonde hair hung long and limp down my back. Dark blue eyes that were the windows to a shattered soul, hence my extreme discomfort with prolonged eye contact completed my look. I suppose he fit the "tall, dark, and handsome" trope but I'd never really been interested in dating. I had my cats and I had Faye. What else did I need?

"Two seconds to finish this paperwork then I'm yours."

I put my hands on my hips. "I highly doubt that will take you two seconds."

"Two minutes then," he amended. "Don't you dare leave without me."

"I'll wait." I parked myself on the corner of his desk and eyed the photographs. There were a few of Jon and an older couple that had to be his parents. The one that caught my eye included two sand-covered little girls in swimsuits grinning joyously. Jon had an arm around each of them.

He caught me ogling the photo. "Those are my girls." I struggled to contain my surprise and he elaborated. "One of the worst cases of neglect I'd ever seen. After the parents were proven completely incapable of taking care of them, I chose to adopt. They're eight and ten now."

My heart nearly melted at his words. "That's…that's wonderful, Jon." My throat was clogged with emotion. I wanted to adopt more than anything but how could I, knowing I might someday be pinned for murder? They'd end up back in the foster system. I couldn't do that to children who had already suffered. "What are their names?"

"Kaylee and Cindy."

A sucker punch to the gut would have been less painful. "They're beautiful." I couldn't get anything else out. The throat clog had gotten worse and I was on the verge of tears. Why did it still hurt so much after all this time?

"You okay?" Jon asked, worry tinting his tone. Of course he'd notice something was off with me, of all people. I was usually better at hiding my emotions than this. I had to be.

"It's just…my sister was named Cindy."

"Was? I'm so sorry, Lori."

"It's fine," I lied. "I've just missed her a lot lately. Let's go change the Culverwells' lives for the better, shall we?" False bravado in place, my emotions were once again impenetrable.

His mouth open and shut before he decided to drop whatever he had wanted to say and gestured for me to lead on. We made it to the Culverwells' foster home in record time. Thank goodness because if I'd had to stand another minute of that painful silence I probably would have jumped out into oncoming traffic. I probably could have maneuvered my way to safety, even in heels, but I'm glad that theory remained untested. I had some kids to see to.

I rang the bell and Janice Culverwell's fearful face filled the front window before the door opened.

"Please don't take me back! I don't wanna go back!" She rushed at me and buried her face in my shirt.

Don't worry, little one, I thought as I comfortingly smoothed her hair. You'll never have to go back. I made sure of it. "We aren't taking you back to your dad. Remember how Anna and Michael are going on a trip? Since they'll be gone, you're going to be staying with new foster parents."

Janice looked up at me, hope and suspicion mingled in her eyes. "What are they like?"

"They're really nice. The mom bakes lots of cookies and the dad likes to ride bikes with their daughter, who just finished high school. You and Charlie will even have your own rooms."

"Will I get to decorate it however I want? Anna let me decorate my room here with unicorn posters."

"I'm sure you will, I've seen their daughter's room and it has lots of posters. We need to get your things though. Do you need me to help you pack?" I asked gently.

Janice shook her head and looked slightly less suspicious before bounding up the stairs, coming back with her belongings, which had already been stuffed in a trash bag, and her brother. "We're ready."

After a hug for each of the foster parents from both children, they were buckled into booster seats and off to their new home.

Jon, I just realized, had been conversing with the foster parents the whole time. When confronted with children in distress, I tended to tune everything else out. After Janice clung to me in such obvious fear, I don't think I said a single word to the foster couple. Oops.

He leaned over to whisper to me. "Whatever you said back there really did the trick. You're great with kids."

The correct response was not "I know" but it was definitely what I was thinking. Instead I said "thanks."

The Abernathys were waiting for us when we arrived. Janice and Charlie approached them hesitantly but Jennifer Abernathy was nothing if not masterful. She put the children at ease with five minutes of conversation and they scampered happily into the house to claim bedrooms. Another case resolved courtesy of Loretta Latham.

We were just about to leave when Janice came bounding back down the steps. She hugged my legs fiercely. "Thank you," she whispered and gave me a smile riddled with missing teeth. With those two words I felt the incomprehensible relief that freedom from her father brought. I lived for giving children that peace.

I reached down and hugged her tightly. "You're very welcome."

Back in the car, Jon persisted. "You really do have a gift. They instantly trust you. And you always follow through on your promises. I've seen what you've done in the office, how many successful cases you've had."

I was both shocked and flattered that he'd paid attention to my work record. It was nice to be recognized for my efforts but that wasn't why I did what I did. "Thank you," I said more sincerely than earlier.

"Have you ever considered adoption yourself?"

More times than I cared to admit. I tried to come across lightly. "I have a roommate so I'm ineligible. Someday, when I have my own place I'd like to." That wasn't the only reason I was ineligible but I didn't think it prudent to bring up my moonlight career. Chuck Culverwell was not the first, nor would he be the last.

"Well I think you'd be great. You know how to handle traumatized kids better than anyone I've ever met," Jon continued. He turned his head toward me for a fraction of a second before returning his eyes to the road. Great. The last thing I needed right now was a guy interested in my activities.

"I am a traumatized kid, buddy," I thought. I'd never admit it to anyone but it was the truth. It takes one to know one. I managed to thank him again before sending off a whole bunch of "don't talk to me" vibes. Jonathan Pickering could become a complication. I didn't do complications.