A Season for Grace. Linda Goodnight
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protectively.
Collin frowned. The cat was speckled with round burns, several of them clearly infected. “What happened?”
“Some kids had her. Mean kids who like to hurt things. She was their cat, but I took her when they started—”
Collin held up a hand. He didn’t need the ugly details to visualize what the kid had saved the cat from.
“You can’t stay here, Mitchell. Your mother is worried.”
“She’s just worried about her ten bucks.”
“You shouldn’t have taken it.”
The kid shrugged, didn’t answer, but Collin’s own eyes told him where the money had gone. And if his nose was an indicator, the kid had scavenged a pack of cigarettes somewhere too which would explain the store owner’s guilty behavior. He’d probably sold cigarettes to a minor.
“I’m not going back to her house.”
“You have to.”
“I can’t. Panda and her babies will die if I don’t take care of her. Archie, too.”
“Archie?”
The kid reached behind them to the other couch and gently lifted a turtle out of a shoe box. A piece of silver duct tape ran along a fracture in the green shell.
Emotions swamped Collin. He felt as if he was being sucked under a whirlpool. Memories flashed through his head so fast he thought he was going blind.
At that moment, little Miss Social Worker poked her head through the opening. “I thought I heard voices.”
Mitchell shrank away from her, blocking the box of cats with his body.
“I won’t leave her,” he said belligerently. “You can’t make me.”
“Maybe your mother will let you keep them,” Collin said, hoping Mitchell’s mother was better than he suspected.
“I’m not going back there, I said. Never.”
“Why not?”
The boy’s face closed up tight, a look Collin recognized all too well. Something ugly needed to be said and the kid wasn’t ready to deal with it.
As the inevitability of the situation descended upon him, Collin pulled a hand down his face.
After a minute of pulling himself together, he spoke. “Nothing’s going to happen to your cat. You have my word.”
Mitch’s face lightened, though distrust continued to ooze out of him. “How can you be sure?”
“Because,” Collin said, wishing there was a way he could avoid involvement and knowing he couldn’t, “I’ll take her home with me.”
The boy’s face crumpled, incredulous. The belligerent attitude fled, replaced by the awful yearning of hope. “You will?”
“I know a good vet. Panda will be okay.”
Mia ducked under the black plastic and came inside. Her eyes glowed with pleasure. “That’s really nice of you, Sergeant Grace.”
“Yeah. That’s me. Real nice.” Stupid, too.
He was a cop. Tough. Hardened to the ugliness of humanity. He could resist about anything. Anything, that is, except looking at Mitch’s face and seeing his own reflection.
Like it or not, he was about to become a big brother—again.
He only hoped he didn’t mess it up this time around.
Chapter Four
Mitchell sat huddled in the back seat of the patrol car, tense and suspicious. The cardboard carton containing cat, kittens and turtle rested on the seat beside him. The rest of his property was in a battered paint bucket on the floor.
“I told you I’m not going back there.”
Mia turned in her seat, antennae going up. “Why not? Is something wrong at home?”
The boy ignored her.
Ever the cop, Collin spoke up. “Juvie Hall is the other alternative.”
“Better than home.”
The adults exchanged glances.
Collin hadn’t said two complete sentences since they’d left Mitch’s lean-to. He’d simply gathered up the animals and the rag-tag assortment of supplies and led the way to the cruiser. Mitchell had followed along without a fuss, his only concern for the animals. For some reason that Mia could not fathom, the two silent males seemed to communicate without words.
Right now, though, Collin’s words were not helping. Mia stifled the urge to shush him. Something was amiss with the child and he was either too scared or too proud to say so.
She pressed a little harder. “I wish you’d talk to me, Mitch. I can help. It’s what I do. If there is a problem at home I can help get it resolved.”
Dirt spewed up over the windshield as they bumped and jostled down the dusty road out of the landfill. Once on the highway, Collin flipped on the windshield washers.
“How do you and your mother get along? Any problems there?”
Mitch turned his profile toward her and stared at the spattering water.
Mia softened her voice. “Mitch, if there’s abuse, you need to tell me.”
His head whipped around, expression fierce. “Leave my mom out of this.”
Whoa! “Okay. What about your stepdad?”
Collin gave her a sideways glance that said he wished she’d shut up. She didn’t plan on doing that any time soon. Something was wrong in this boy’s life. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be running away. He wouldn’t be shoplifting, and he wouldn’t dread going home. She would be a lousy social worker and an even worse human being if she didn’t investigate the very real possibility of abuse.
“Mitchell,” she urged softly. “You can trust me. I want to help.”
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