A Man Apart. Ginna Gray

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СКАЧАТЬ in his eyes, but she ignored it. “Add to that combination a dimly lit room, a bed and close contact, and naturally one thing leads to another. We know it didn’t mean anything, so let’s just forget it happened, shall we?”

      Pulling her arm free of his grasp, she smiled cordially and tipped her head toward the kitchen. “Now we really had better get out there before Jane comes looking for us.”

      Without waiting for a reply, Maude Ann turned and strolled out, aware of Matt’s gaze drilling into her back.

      She had already taken her seat at the head of the table when Matt emerged from his room.

      Instantly the childish chatter around the table ceased and a tense silence descended. Seven pairs of wary young eyes watched Matt’s slow progress as he leaned heavily on his cane and limped to the table.

      When he was seated, Maude Ann, acting as though Matt’s presence was nothing out of the ordinary, smiled at her charges and said, “Children, this is Detective Matthew Dolan. He works for the Houston Police Department and he’s going to be staying with us while he recovers from an injury.”

      “You mean he gots an ouchie like me?” the tiny blond girl asked. She raised her arm and proudly displayed a wide Band-Aid on her elbow.

      “Yes, Debbie. Only Detective Dolan’s ouchies are really bad ones, so he’s going to be staying with us until they get all better.”

      The child turned big, pansy-blue eyes on Matt. “You needs to put a Band-Aid on ’em. I can show you where they are. Miz Maudie has all kinds of pretty ones. Some even gots flowers and fairies on ’em.”

      Despite his foul mood, a smile tugged at Matt’s mouth. He resented being stuck here. He especially resented being here with a shrink and a pack of kids. However, he would have had to have a heart of iron to resist those innocent blue eyes and that face like an angel.

      “Dumb girl,” Tyrone muttered. “He ain’t got that kinda ouchie. He’s prob’ly been shot.”

      Gasps and frightened exclamations erupted around the table.

      “That’s quite enough, Tyrone. You’re scaring the other children.”

      “Yes’um, Miz Maudie,” he replied in a meek voice, ducking his head. Under his breath he added just loud enough for Matt to hear, “Fool shoulda got his head blown clean off, messing with them guys. I sure wouldn’t’a cried none if he had. Be one less pig on the streets.”

      The boy cut his gaze toward Matt and stuck out his chin. Matt met the boy’s surly gaze steadily.

      “What was that, Tyrone?”

      He turned his head and looked at Maude Ann with an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “Nothin’, Ms. Edwards. I was just sayin’ how lucky he was.”

      “Hmm.” The glint in Maude Ann’s eyes said that she did not believe him, but she let the matter slide.

      “My mommy got shot,” the girl of about six or seven sitting next to Maude Ann said quietly. She sat staring at her clasped hands resting against the edge of the table. Then she turned her solemn gaze on Matt. “My daddy did it. I saw him. My mommy died.”

      Matt didn’t know what to say. The blank expression in the child’s eyes was chilling. Dammit, it wasn’t right that a kid should witness such grotesque violence. “I’m…sorry.”

      Maude Ann reached over and laid her hand over the child’s smaller one. “It was a horrible thing, but Jennifer is going to be okay, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

      The blank look left the little girl’s eyes, replaced by trust and abject adoration as she met Maude Ann’s reassuring smile. She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

      She wasn’t a pretty child. Not like the little blond cherub, Debbie, Matt thought, but she appeared so fragile and vulnerable just looking at her made your heart contract.

      Deftly, Maude Ann diverted everyone’s attention by making introductions, starting with Jane Beasley, the chunky, middle-aged woman who was her assistant, and working her way around the table.

      In addition to Tyrone, Debbie and Jennifer, there was ten-year-old Marshall, his eight-year-old brother, Dennis, an eleven-year-old Mexican girl named Yolanda and five-year-old Timothy.

      Matt sat through the introductions in tight-lipped silence, acknowledging the children and Jane Beasley with no more than a curt nod. He had no desire to know any of them. He may be stuck there, but he intended to keep his distance.

      When dinner was over, the children cleared the table, then Maude Ann sent them off to brush their teeth, though not without protests.

      “Ah, do I gotta, Miz Maudie?” Tyrone groaned.

      “Yes. Now shoo. All of you. And don’t think you can pull a fast one on me, either, because I’m going to inspect those teeth when you’re done.”

      Muttering under his breath, Tyrone shuffled out, deliberately dragging his feet on the brick kitchen floor and trailing the other children.

      Matt sipped his coffee and watched them go. When their footsteps faded away, he switched his gaze to Maude Ann. “If you’re hoping to reform that kid, you’re wasting your time. Take it from me—he’s bad news.”

      “Nonsense.” Dismissing his comment, Maude Ann left the table and joined Jane at the sink, where she picked up a towel and began drying dishes.

      “Do you know anything about his background?” Matt probed.

      “If you mean do I know that his mother is a drug addict who never took care of him, yes.”

      “Do you also know that at seven he’s already got a rap sheet? The kid’s been picked up for everything from shoplifting to acting as a lookout for a couple of thugs who robbed a liquor store. Being a minor, there’s nothing we can do to him, and he and his friends know it. Judges won’t even send him to Juvie at his tender age. That’s why the older guys like to use him.”

      “So? All that proves is he’s a little boy who’s had a horrible life so far.”

      “Lady, Tyrone Washington is a juvenile delinquent in the making. Six months ago I caught him acting as a numbers runner for a gang running a bookmaking operation. I grabbed the kid by the scruff of the neck and hauled him down to the station house myself.”

      Maude Ann stopped drying a plate and shot him an accusing glare. “You arrested a seven-year-old boy?”

      “I didn’t cuff him and throw him in a cell, if that’s what you mean. I just to tried to scare the kid. Anyway, it didn’t work. A few days later he was running errands for the same gang.”

      “All the more reason for removing him from that environment. Tyrone needs love and guidance and structure in his life. He needs to be shown that someone cares and will be there for him, that life doesn’t have to be the squalid existence he’s known.”

      Matt shot her a sardonic look. “Watch those rose-colored glasses, Dr. Edwards. They distort your vision.”

      “Sounds pretty cynical to me,” Jane said, speaking up for the first time. “What’s the matter, СКАЧАТЬ