His First Choice. Tara Taylor Quinn
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was covered. Magnets held up drawings, scribblings, photographs. All done by, or taken of, Levi. It was a shrine to the boy. Which his mother faced every single time she sat down at the table.
Maybe Levi Bridges was just accident prone and was exhibiting changed behavior because of a developmental stage he was going through.
Maybe she had to be looking more closely at the day care.
“I’m afraid to ask why you’re here.” Tressa smiled. A tremulous, timid smile. No hint of defensiveness. Or authority, either.
Lacey smiled back, offering all she could offer at that moment—compassion.
If Tressa was hurting her son, she needed help. It would be Lacey’s job to connect her with resources...
If she was hurting her son.
Lacey liked the woman’s home.
And hated the case.
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