Because Of A Girl. Janice Kay Johnson

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       CHAPTER TWO

      THE DOORBELL PRODUCED a bong deep inside the house. Waiting on the wide front porch, Jack breathed in crisp air that tasted more of winter than spring as he checked out the front yard crowded with giant shrubs surrounding a lawn that really needed mowing. The lilacs he recognized, though they wouldn’t be blooming for a good while. March in eastern Washington could feel like spring one day and pound you with a snowstorm the next.

      Then he focused on the handsome old door with an oval insert of beveled glass veiled with a lace curtain. He had to ask himself again why he was here. Yes, he had cleared his most urgent case Friday night, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still follow-up he hadn’t finished this weekend, not to mention the reports he had to write. Plus other investigations that had been put on the back burner.

      But damned if he hadn’t raised a hand this morning, feeling like a good little boy in a third-grade classroom, and said, “I heard the beginning of this drama. I’ll handle it.”

      Nobody argued, and why would they? They all had too much to do and not enough time to do it. The lieutenant had written his name on the whiteboard where they tracked who was working on what, and Jack started gathering details not so different from what the woman had claimed Friday and in her second attempt to file a report on Sunday, but more worrisome.

      The sound of footsteps was followed by a lock disengaging. The door opened a cautious crack, letting him see the woman within, every bit as hot as he’d remembered. The snug, faded jeans she wore gave him a better look at long legs and curvaceous hips. She had a redhead’s skin with a scattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. Cinnamon and cream.

      And, damn it, he needed to quit looking.

      “Mrs. Harper?”

      “It’s Ms.”

      Which meant...what? She was divorced? Had never been married?

      Irrelevant.

      He pushed back his shirt to expose the badge hooked on his belt. “I’m Detective Jack Moore with Frenchman Lake Police Department. I’d like to talk to you about Sabra Lee.”

      Meg Harper’s face lit with relief. “But I’ve been told twice—oh, never mind. Come in. Please.” She stepped back.

      As was his habit, he scanned entry, stairs, the hall that led to the back of the house and what he could see of a room to the left that should have been a dining room but appeared to be in use as...some kind of sewing room? The living room was visible through a wide opening to the right. No other people, and he heard only quiet. The place was warm and homey. It took a second look for him to see how shabby it was, too. Scratched and scuffed floors, missing balusters on the staircase railing making him think of the gaps in a five-year-old’s smile. The ceilings had to be ten feet high, which must make the place a bitch to heat.

      The cushions on the sofa in the living room sagged, the wooden rocker she went to needed refinishing and the carved fireplace mantel might really be something if someone took the time to strip off the thick accumulation of paint. The house was clean enough, though, what he could see of 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 СКАЧАТЬ