Мама, я демона люблю!. Даха Тараторина

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СКАЧАТЬ a boyish face that made him look like a teenager, but from the way the three other officers straightened at his appearance, he was in charge.

      “No, Lieutenant.” His jaw tightening, Trooper Shoffner shot an annoyed look at his fellow troopers and then gestured to his superior officer. “Everyone, please meet Lt. Matt Dawson.”

      He made another round of introductions and gestured toward the other troopers. “They were just leaving.”

      “Uh, he’s right,” Trooper Davison said. “We have to get back out on patrol.”

      Lt. Dawson nodded. “I’m sure the residents of Michigan will appreciate your diligence.”

      Once they had disappeared down the hall, the lieutenant turned back to Mark. “I assume you have this under control, Trooper Shoffner?”

      “Yes, sir.” But as soon as the officer stepped away, Mark pursed his lips, and his hand thudded on the desktop. “That went well. New guy perks.”

      Something was going on with Trooper Shoffner at work, but she had more important things than that to worry about right now. Out in the squad room, the state worker was still on her cell phone.

      “How do you think she’s doing?”

      “I’m sure she’ll find something soon.” Mark looked far less certain than his claim.

      “...and thanks so much for your time,” the woman said before ending the call.

      As the state caseworker reentered the interview room, Shannon held her breath. Something was squeezing her heart from the inside out. She’d felt pain like this only once before. The empty receiving blanket. The void in her arms. She’d just found Blake, and he was being taken away again. Would he be placed far away so she wouldn’t have the chance to get to know him? How could she earn his forgiveness if she couldn’t be near him?

      “I’ve been making some calls,” Miss Lafferty began, “but unfortunately, we’ve been unable to find a foster placement for Blake this morning—”

      “What about an emergency placement?” Mark asked.

      “I’ve tried that, too, but our numbers are really high right now, and with Thanksgiving just days away... Well, even our emergency homes are...unable to house him at this time.” As she sat in the only available chair, the woman’s gaze shifted to Blake, but then she looked away.

      Shannon’s pulse thudded in her ears. How dare they turn away her son? But her breath caught as another idea sprang into her thoughts, eclipsing the righteous anger in its wake. Was it possible? Could there be a chance?

      She took a deep breath, grasping for calm. “So you’re saying that Blake has no place to go?”

      The state worker shook her head. “Of course not. There’s a spot for him at the Community Children’s Center.”

      “You can’t take him there!”

      Even Shannon heard the shriek in her voice, so she didn’t try to convince herself that the others had missed it. Blake and the trooper shot questioning glances her way. The caseworker stared at her with wide eyes.

      “I mean, that’s not...er...the most appropriate placement for him.”

      “It would be a temporary placement, of course,” the social worker said with a sigh.

      Mark pushed back from the desk, gripping its edge with both hands. “Wait. Community Children’s Center is where we incarcerate teens, isn’t it?”

      Miss Lafferty nodded. “Yes, but it’s also an emergency placement location for teens who’ve been removed from their homes for various reasons.”

      “You put them together? In the same facility?”

      At Mark’s incredulous look, the woman blanched. “Well, the boys and girls are kept separate at all times, and—”

      “I mean, those serving juvenile sentences and the victims of abuse or neglect,” he pressed.

      Miss Lafferty opened her mouth as if to offer another explanation, but she clicked it shut. “It’s not a perfect solution. But sometimes it’s the only option we have to keep the children safe.”

      “Safe?”

      A hard edge had come into the officer’s voice, but Shannon had no time to debate the advisability of placing juvenile offenders with victims of neglect or abuse. Right now she had to protect her own child, the son she’d failed to shield before.

      “The center isn’t Blake’s only option.”

      The other two adults turned to stare at her.

      “Well, it isn’t.” No longer able to sit, Shannon sprang from her chair and paced toward the door. When she turned back, Miss Lafferty was shaking her head.

      “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Wait.” The woman stopped and studied her. “You’re not suggesting...”

      “Of course I am. I’m Blake’s mother...his biological mother. And I am a licensed social worker with a master’s in social work, so I could easily receive emergency foster parent certification. I could become his temporary guardian until I—”

      “Miss Lyndon,” the woman said to interrupt her. “I understand that this has been an emotional day for you and Mr. Wilson, but this...”

      Miss Lafferty offered one of those placating smiles that Shannon had used herself with parents enrolling their pregnant teens at Hope Haven. She promised herself never to smile at them that way again.

      “You haven’t thought this through. You work and live in a center for pregnant girls, not the most appropriate place for an adolescent boy.”

      “We have a few details to work out, but—”

      That annoying smile was enough to stop her. Shannon crossed her arms over her chest.

      “You have to know that it isn’t as easy as that,” Miss Lafferty continued. “There is no proof yet that Mr. Wilson is even your child.”

      “Of course he’s my son. I knew his name was Blake, and he had the letter, and he looks just like—”

      She stopped herself and jerked her head to see Blake glaring at her, accusation clear in his eyes. Yes, she had a lot to explain to him about his birth father, among other things, but if she didn’t fight right now, she might never have the chance.

      “I understand that you’re convinced, but the state will need more proof.” The woman cleared her throat. “Not to mention the courts.”

      The last had Shannon tearing her gaze away from her son. “What do you mean by that?”

      “Even if we can prove that Mr. Wilson is your biological child, then there’s that whole matter of your completing a voluntary release of parental rights. You don’t have any—”

      “I was fifteen years old!”

      “Why do you talk about me as СКАЧАТЬ