Because Of A Girl. Janice Kay Johnson
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it.
The brightest note in the living room was a large wool rug in ruby red with gamboling white sheep and—yeah, a sheepdog in one corner. He had to resist a smile at the humor of the design. Half a dozen pillows on the sofa were done with the same technique, too, he saw, each individual and interesting although he didn’t allow himself to look closely.
“Please, sit down,” Ms. Harper urged him, plunking down in the rocking chair.
As she clearly expected him to take the sofa, he chose one end. His ass settled into a sinkhole. Getting back up might be a problem.
“Oh!” She bounced back to her feet. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Not now, but thank you.”
Expression dimming, she sank back down and waited.
He removed a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “I heard some of what you told Sergeant Todd Friday, but I’d appreciate it if you’d start from the beginning for my benefit.”
She absorbed his words, suspicion appearing belatedly. He wondered if she had any idea how expressive that girl-next-door face was.
“Yes, but...he wouldn’t even take a report. And they still wouldn’t Sunday. I don’t understand why you’re here.”
“Mr. Rivera gave us a call this morning to express his concern.” Rivera was the high school principal, and some of the concern he’d expressed had to do with this woman.
“Oh, I’m glad. Well. Did he explain why Sabra is living here rather than with her own mother?”
“I gathered that they clashed over her pregnancy.”
“Clashed?” Ms. Harper gave a funny laugh. “I suppose the pregnancy is at the root of it, but I think they’d been going at it longer than that. Mrs. Lee threw her out of the house.”
Jack frowned. “Literally?”
“I can’t tell you whether there was any physical contact. Mrs. Lee did lock Sabra out and then dumped her clothes and school bag on the front lawn. My daughter, Emily, helped her gather everything.”
“How long ago was this?”
She seemed to count. “Six weeks? More or less.”
“Have you communicated with Mrs. Lee?”
“Yes, repeatedly. She’s...fine with Sabra living here.”
“Fine?” he echoed. That was a word that covered a lot of territory.
“She didn’t understand why I’d want her, but she supposed Sabra was lucky to have found a place to roost.” Ms. Harper’s tone was understandably dry. “I...called a few times to keep her updated, but she is unwilling to consider counseling and seems to have no interest in Sabra returning home.”
“Do you have any kind of written contract? Or is DSHS involved?” He assumed she did know the Department of Social and Health Services oversaw the foster care system.
Now Ms. Harper looked wary. “No, so far it’s been informal. Honestly, I assumed at first that she’d only be with us for a week or two at the most. But since her mother hasn’t relented, I’ve let the school know the situation, and the teachers seem willing to talk to me when she has issues.”
“The administration must be in something of a bind, considering you don’t have legal custody,” he suggested.
“Is that what their problem is?” Temper kindled in her hazel eyes. “It’s been so frustrating. Bureaucracy in action. We’d have had a lot better chance of finding her if they’d let me know right away that she was noted as absent in her first class. But, no, what do they do but have that annoying robo-call go to Sabra’s mother, who told me the last time that she was just going to ignore them from now on. There isn’t a soul in the front office who doesn’t know Sabra lives here.”
“Mr. Rivera did indicate to me that he is uneasy with this type of placement. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t call DSHS this morning.”
Her mouth fell open. “He’s reporting me to Child Protective Services? Like I did something wrong? Is that what you’re saying?” She appeared genuinely bewildered.
“I can’t speak for what he will or won’t do.” Yeah, that was mealymouthed as hell, but Jack didn’t want to get diverted from the real issue here: a very pregnant fifteen-year-old girl was missing, and despite Ms. Harper’s claim to have dropped her off in front of the school, none of the staff in the office had seen Sabra, Ms. Harper or her gaudily painted Volkswagen van.
As one of the secretaries put it, “You can’t help but look up when that van pulls up to the curb! It makes me think of the 1960s. The Grateful Dead and all that.”
He had yet to see the van, likely parked in the detached garage.
“That’s unbelievably insulting.” Bewilderment had matured into temper. Steam was all but shooting out of Ms. Harper’s ears. “All I’ve done is offer a home and...and supervision to a girl whose own mother booted her out. What should I have done, let her start rooting in Dumpsters downtown for something to eat?”
“Is the mother paying you to take care of her daughter?”
“She hasn’t offered.” She bristled. “And I don’t need the help.”
Pride went only so far, but he didn’t say so.
“It might have been a good idea to give DSHS a call and explain that you’re willing to keep the girl but need to have some legal authority,” he said mildly.
“I didn’t think I’d need—” Her shoulders sagged. “I suppose I would have called when she went into labor.”
“Or even at her next prenatal doctor visit.”
“I took her to that, and nobody said anything.”
“Did they realize she was no longer living at home?”
Her lips tightened mutinously, which made her look even younger than she probably was.
What kind of flake was this woman? And why had he let himself get diverted again?
Physically, she pushed his buttons, but she was pushing other buttons, too, ones that flashed a warning red. Just as well, since he was investigating her.
“Let’s focus on Friday,” he suggested, and watched her turn wary.
* * *
TO THINK SHE’D been glad to see this guy on her doorstep. Meg had even, at first sight, found him...appealing. Sexy, a word that rarely to never crossed her mind.
And, yeah, he was tall, lean and broad-shouldered, with a bony face, light brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. Which might have added up to sexy for a woman who was into the expressionless military/cop look: hair worn too short, face impassive, eyes watchful and a gun plastered to his hip. What was he going to do, shoot her if he wasn’t satisfied with her answers to his questions?
It was bad enough that he clearly thought she’d done something wrong when she took in a teenager who needed someplace to stay. But once she figured out that he didn’t believe she’d ever driven Sabra to school, that he thought she had something to do with the girl’s disappearance, any belief that he was here to help evaporated. “You seriously think the school secretary notices every single vehicle that pulls up in front? Even when she’s on the phone or talking to a parent or student or, hey, making a copy or sticking her head into the principal’s office?”
No change registered on that face. “It would be good if we could find someone who saw you. Anyone at all. Another parent, a student...? You say you arrived approximately five minutes before the bell rang.”
How was it that she could hear his doubt even when his voice remained neutral?
“Yes.”
“Aren’t