The Baby Cop. Roz Denny Fox

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      CHAPTER THREE

      OFFICE MACHINES hummed and staff chattered around Regan as she unloaded file folders from her briefcase and stacked them on the counter.

      “Are you completely finished with these, Ms. Grant?” a young clerk asked. “I can tag them for holding if you think you’ll be using them again.”

      “I’ve dictated follow-up reports on this batch. I can’t see any reason to keep them out. Oh, wait.” Regan thumbed through the stack and removed the file on Jeremy Smith. “The foster family for this young man said Anna planned to petition the court for a change of Jeremy’s last name. Is there a second file or some other record of how far along his request has gone?”

      “I’ll check. I shouldn’t be long.” The clerk—Abby, according to her name tag—took the file and disappeared into the record room.

      A caseworker who’d been talking with two colleagues broke away from the group and approached Regan. “Last night I received calls from two of our foster parents. Both felt unprepared for your impromptu visits yesterday.”

      Regan tapped her fingers on the counter. “I gave everyone the standard two-hour notice. Some families actually had more than two hours, because I phoned everyone before I left the office. Nothing was out of order. Why would they feel a need to complain, I wonder?”

      Terry Mickelson leaned on the counter and lowered her voice. “I didn’t mean to imply they’d complained. More like they…sounded curious. Perhaps you weren’t aware that Jennifer Layton and Erica Barnard aren’t run-of-the-mill foster moms.”

      “No?” Regan began to feel she’d stepped on a tread-mill somewhere that had no off switch. “What are they, then?”

      “They only accept kids through a temporary urgent-care safe-home section of the program instituted by Anna and Ethan, you know.” She smiled and gave a dainty shrug.

      Regan crossed her arms. “I’m afraid I don’t know. Enlighten me, please. By Anna and Ethan, I assume you mean my predecessor and Detective Knight of the Desert City PD.”

      “Uh…yes.” Terry glanced worriedly across the room at her friends who’d stopped talking to listen. The office fell silent enough to hear the tick of the wall clock. “Our records probably don’t indicate that Jennifer and Erica are Ethan’s sisters. Jen is a commercial artist who works out of her home. As does Erica. Work from home, I mean. She’s a CAD engineer. Computer aided design,” Terry supplied when Regan lifted one eyebrow.

      “Detective Knight’s sisters? I don’t believe that came up in our conversations. We briefly discussed their occupations. Relative to how they combine full-time careers with providing state-supported child care. Like I said, they passed admirably.” Regan allowed a smile for the first time. “In fact, I wish there was a way to videotape one of their average days to use as a training film for prospective foster parents. It’s a shame they only provide temporary urgent care for us.”

      Terry relaxed a body grown tense. “Erica and Jenny are great, aren’t they? Mostly I think their concerns stemmed from the fact that you seemed to single out their family for review. Elaine Knight is their mother. Lexie Knight’s a sister-in-law, and Jessica Talbot is a first cousin. I believe that today you’re scheduled to see Melissa Fogerty and Elizabeth St. George, two more of Ethan’s sisters.”

      “As they all seem to be related, I suppose it does appear I’ve chosen to pick on the Knights.” Regan raised her voice enough so that the staff straining to hear could do so without effort. “I’m planning to review all families who came into our program unconventionally. The people you named and some whose files I still have in my office skipped the application process—an aberration we’ll avoid in the future. I’m quite sure our caseworkers know proper procedure, but it never hurts to have refreshers. To that end, I’ll be addressing the topic on Monday at our regular meeting, and the people under review may be asked to make proper application.”

      There was a collective gasp from Terry’s co-workers. She was first to express her shock in words. “It would be a horrible mistake to trash Ethan’s efforts to save Desert City’s abused kids.”

      “Is that so?” Regan’s light eyes darkened. “Pardon me, but I labor under the impression that saving this city’s abused kids is our responsibility.” Stretching across the counter, Regan tapped a fingernail on the title stamped above Terry Mickelson’s name badge. “Child Help Center. That’s us, correct?”

      A once-retired caseworker, Odella Price, materialized from the records room along with Abby, the clerk who’d gone to help Regan. Odella had left the department six years previously but had returned part-time at Anna Murphy’s request. For more than a year now, Odella’s part-time load had totaled fifty hours a week. There were employees like Terry Mickelson and others who thought Odella should have been given Anna’s job, even though she had no administrative experience. A fair share of the staff let it be known in unsubtle ways.

      Odella Price had grown up the daughter of parents who ministered to the poor. She was intelligent and well-educated. Empathy oozed from her pores. Around the office, she assumed a role of unofficial negotiator.

      A tall woman, Odella stood five foot ten inches without shoes. She carried no spare ounce of flesh beneath her smooth mocha-colored skin. Outside of tiny laugh wrinkles fanning from rich brown eyes, few who met her believed she was sixty years old, as she claimed to be.

      Moving fluidly, she glided between Regan and Terry. A gregarious smile displayed even white teeth, only close friends knew they’d been crooked until Odella turned twenty-four, when she got her MSSW and subsequently her first paycheck in a field she loved. Now she spoke through that dazzling smile. “Abby tells me you inquired about the status of Jeremy Smith’s request to change his last name, Regan.” Odella was probably the only staff member, other than Piggott, who dared call Regan by her first name. Nathaniel liberally used given names, but he allowed only a chosen few to call him anything besides, Director or sir. Since Odella’s return to the workforce, she’d placed herself on Piggot’s short list. More to annoy the man than to align herself with him.

      Switching her focus from Terry Mickelson to Odella, Regan concurred with a slight nod. “I was told Jeremy desired adoption, but his СКАЧАТЬ