Adopted Son. Linda Warren

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      “Evidently not. Sad, isn’t it?” The sergeant checked his watch. “I’ve got to get to the station. Thanks again for your help yesterday.”

      They shook hands again. “No problem.”

      Tuck took the elevator to the pediatric ward. Opal was at the nurses’ station so he walked over to her.

      “Ranger Tucker.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and handed a file to a nurse. “I was just fixing to call you.” Opal’s dark hair was threaded with gray and the lines on her face denoted a life of toil and anguish—all given selflessly.

      “How’s Brady?” he asked.

      “Know his name, do you?”

      “I met Sergeant Scofield in the lobby.”

      She sighed. “This one slipped through the cracks.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Nicole Harper has been in the system for a while and we slipped up. After the last visit, the caseworker filed for a random drug check. She suspected something wasn’t right, but she became ill about three weeks ago. No one was reassigned to Nicole’s case and the test wasn’t done. This is unacceptable.”

      Tuck liked this woman. Fighting for children was her top priority. “What’s the story on Nicole Harper?”

      “She was raised by a single mom and had a pretty normal childhood until she got into high school. Then she started doing drugs and finally dropped out. She went to work at a fast-food place and got involved with the manager. When she became pregnant, she tried to stay clean, but right before Brady was born the boyfriend, Braden Hollis, died in an auto accident. Nicole spiraled out of control then. Wilma, her mother, couldn’t handle her. Nicole delivered Brady and quickly got back with her old friends and the drug scene. CPS took Brady away from her when a motel clerk called and reported her for prostitution and doing drugs with the baby in the room. Wilma was granted temporary custody.”

      “Didn’t CPS try to get her some help?”

      Opal touched his face. “You sweet man, I bet you believe in fairy tales, too.”

      “What’s wrong in believing there’s a better life? Sometimes it just takes one person to accomplish that.”

      “Nicole Harper got hooked on drugs fast and furious and that’s all she thought about—how to get more drugs.”

      “Still…”

      “She was offered help many times. She always refused. Six months in jail changed her some. When she got out, all she wanted was her kid. Wilma was battling lung cancer and thought Nicole had changed. But it wasn’t long before she was back with the old crowd. It’s hard to break that cycle once it starts.”

      “Why wasn’t Brady taken into custody then?”

      “Did I mention that Nicole is a very good liar and knew how to put on a show? I love my kid. My kid is the most important part of my life. Yada. Yada. Yada. Once the caseworker leaves, she’s hitting the bars looking for guys and drugs. And the kid is usually left home by himself, or worse, taken along. We just never could catch her at it—until it was too late. We have so many cases it’s difficult to keep a constant vigil on these girls.”

      Tuck knew that. It was just a sad scenario that the kids were the ones who paid. “How’s Brady this morning?”

      “He was so violent in the E.R. that they had to sedate him. He was just scared. They checked his vitals, started an IV and did blood work. Nobody knows how long he’s been neglected and we have no idea what he’s been eating. He could have even been drinking from the toilet.”

      Tuck winced.

      “I’ve seen it before. He may only be fourteen months old but even at that age a kid fights for survival. He could have digested nonfood items, even toxic items. They’re testing for drug exposure, anemia and lead poisoning. The main concern was dehydration, so that’s the reason for the IV. They want to keep his electrolytes under control. Since his sores are infected, they’ve started a round of antibiotics through the IV.”

      “What’s going to happen to him?”

      “I’m on my way to talk to Wilma. I know she won’t be able to take him, but there might be a relative who wants to raise him.” Opal threw the strap of her big purse over her shoulder. “How would you like to come with me, Ranger Tucker? Get an up close and personal view of life’s real fairy tales.”

      “I’d love to, but first I’d like to take a look at Brady, if that’s okay.”

      “Sure. Follow me.”

      They walked across the hall to a room full of baby beds. A large glass window gave the nurses a clear view of each crib from the nurses’ station. Two nurses were attending to the needs of children with various ailments. Opal stopped at a bed against the wall.

      Tuck removed his hat and stared down at Brady. He lay on his stomach, completely naked except for a small blanket covering his upper body. His bottom was bloodred and had ointment spread over it.

      “They’ll put a diaper on him as soon as he wakes up,” Opal said. “They’ve debrided his wounds and applied a barrier cream.”

      Brady’s hair had been shaved off and Tuck saw the infected sores on his scalp, too. He fought the anger churning in his stomach.

      Opal glanced at him. “They had to shave his head to clean the sores and remove dead tissue. There are sores between his toes, too. It had been a while since he’d had a bath.”

      Tuck kept staring at the little boy. He slept peacefully, as a baby should. At that moment Tuck vowed that Brady would have a decent home and never be neglected again.

      WILMA HARPER LIVED in the projects on a cul-de-sac. Tuck parked his car and followed Opal inside the brick duplex. A neighbor and a hospice nurse were there. Wilma sat in a recliner with an oxygen tank beside her, gasping for every breath. She’d been told of her daughter’s death and held a box of Kleenex in one hand, her eyes red.

      In her early forties, Wilma looked twice her age. Her pallid skin, skeletal frame and sunken eyes denoted a woman who was terminally ill.

      Tuck and Opal sat on a worn brown sofa. He took in the room. The walls were made of cinder blocks and painted a pale tan, which was yellowing. Linoleum squares of the same color covered the floor. Some of the floor had eroded from wear, leaving the stark concrete visible.

      Opal was right. This was the flip side of a fairy tale.

      “How’s Brady?” Wilma immediately asked Opal.

      “He’s going to be fine,” Opal replied, and introduced Tuck.

      “This is all my fault,” Wilma wailed, then sucked in a whiff of oxygen.

      “No, it isn’t,” Opal told her. “Nicole is your daughter and you trusted her.”

      “I spoiled her. That’s the problem.”

      “Ms. Harper,” Tuck spoke СКАЧАТЬ