Lies That Bind. Barbara McMahon

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      April explained that she and the others had thought Maddie’s ideas old-fashioned and considered her ancient. “In retrospect, I think she just had high standards and tried to instill them in all of us,” she said slowly.

      “Would Maddie be any help to us?”

      “I doubt it. If she could talk, she might tell us how she came to get me, but unless you can word all your questions to take yes or no answers, we’re out of luck. Besides, I tried to find out more when I was a child, and she wasn’t any help then.”

      “Asking yes/no questions is easy enough to do. But let’s see what else we can find out first. You finished?”

      “Just about.” She drained her coffee cup. “What about Jo?”

      “I’ll see if there’s anything else I can come up with, but if people don’t want to be found, they usually aren’t.”

      “Why wouldn’t she want to be found? I’ll bet she’d like to know Eliza and I are looking for her.”

      “If she ran away, she might have thought the law was after her. Which it should have been. From what Sam said, that was something else that wasn’t handled according to policy. If she changed her name to avoid detection, she could still be living under that name. Did she have any other family?”

      April shook her head. “Her mother died when we were all about thirteen. Jo’s father was in prison. Still is for all I know. Or maybe he died, but she sure wouldn’t have gone to him.”

      “Why not? What was he in prison for?”

      “Trying to kill her mother.”

      Jack whistled. “Okay, let’s go check out Social Services.”

      AS THEY WERE USHERED into the office of the director of Social Services a short time later, April held back, letting Jack run the interview. She’d smiled when he’d flashed his reporter’s card at the receptionist and asked for an appointment. The woman had recognized him immediately. Apparently lots of people watched CNN.

      “Jack Palmer, I’m Roberta Nelson,” the director greeted him when they entered her utilitarian office.

      “Thank you for seeing us without a prior appointment, Ms. Nelson,” he said smoothly, shaking hands and introducing April.

      “How do you do?” she said to April, then gestured to the visitor chairs. “Please, sit down, both of you. I can’t imagine what I can do for you. I’ve seen you so many times reporting from Iraq, Mr. Palmer. You will be going back, won’t you?” She eyed Jack’s cast and cane. Roberta Nelson was an older woman with graying brown hair. Her dress was more functional than stylish, and a pair of glasses rested on the desk in front of her.

      “That’s still up in the air,” he replied as the three of them were seated. “Until then, I’m keeping my hand in. I’m doing a proposal for a story idea to my boss about foster care, how it works, and the benefits it affords children who would otherwise have to go to an orphanage. I want to research what happens to some of these children. How many make a success of their lives, how many end up in trouble.”

      April looked at him. What a cover. The man was good.

      “Oh?” Roberta was caught, April could tell.

      “I’m staying with Sam Witt, Sheriff Witt. I thought I’d get started right here in Maraville. There are several local success stories that piqued my interest. Combined with those from other locales, such as New Orleans, Atlanta, even New York, we can present a broad canvas that will capture America’s attention and give credit to hardworking foster parents who open their doors to homeless children.”

      “Why, I think that’s a wonderful idea,” the director enthused. “We only have a few qualified families here. But then, we don’t have a lot of homeless children, either.”

      “Actually, April Jeffries is a foster child who was placed here in Maraville. She’s now a successful model in France. She’s agreed to allow me to start my interviews with her while she’s here visiting.”

      “I see.” Roberta looked at April and smiled. “You’re certainly beautiful enough to be a model. In Paris?”

      “I’ve lived there for seven years. But Maraville will always be home.” She hoped her tone was the one Jack was looking for. Would the woman really buy his story?

      “How can I help you?” Roberta asked.

      “We’d like to discuss the basics of how the foster-care system works,” Jack explained. “How you place children, maybe look at April’s history as a case study. Of course, once we’re further along and know if this will make it to the network, we’d ask if you were willing to be taped for broadcast on national television. The film crew would do its best not to disrupt your daily routine,” Jack assured her.

      “National television. Oh, my.” Roberta Nelson seemed to have stars in her eyes.

      “The whole concept is still in the planning stages, right now,” Jack added.

      “Of course. I’m happy to help however I can.”

      Jack settled back and pulled out his notebook. “I thought I’d ask a few questions to get the ball rolling, jot some notes, if that’s okay with you?”

      The director nodded eagerly.

      “Then we’ll formulate how we wish to proceed. And maybe you can go over April’s file with us, to show us an actual example of how the system works.”

      “Oh, I don’t know about that. We don’t make that information public.” She looked apologetically at April.

      “I understand,” April said. “But if I’m here to give my permission, wouldn’t that make a difference?”

      “For the broadcast, we’ll blank out any personal details,” Jack added.

      “I’ve seen how that works,” Roberta told him. “Everything gets fuzzy inside a certain area.”

      “Exactly,” Jack agreed. “Now, can we begin with a brief history of your own background and how you got started in Social Services?”

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