Matthew's Choice. Patricia Bradley

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      “The usual. An overdose, with a nine-year-old child involved. Apparently there is no family for the child to stay with. Thank goodness for the shelter.”

      Chill bumps raced over her body. Nine-year-old. The age of her third-grade readers. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

      “Dance with me again.”

      She cocked her head. The band had fired up the old Johnny Mathis song “Chances Are.” She could do that.

      On the dance floor, Peter held her lightly, both of them moving to the music. Once she scuffed against his shoe. “Sorry.”

      She focused on recapturing her rhythm as he leaned closer. “Have breakfast with me in the morning.”

      Allie almost stumbled. “I...need to get back to Cedar Grove. School starts Tuesday, and I have a lot to do.”

      “You would turn down the person who expedited your home study so you could become a foster parent?”

      Peter had been responsible for her application being fast-tracked?

      “That is blackmail,” she said as the song ended, and they walked back to their table.

      “Just joking. The paperwork should be completed next week.”

      They both turned as Clint called to them. “Look who I found!”

      Matt and the girl in the photo trailed Clint.

      “Matt...” Allie shifted her gaze to the girl who smiled at her. “And you must be Jessica.”

      Her smile faded. “Have we met?”

      “Earlier tonight, at the elevator in Matt’s building.”

      Recognition flashed in her hazel eyes. “Ohh...”

      Clint spoke up. “Jessica, this is my sister, Allie Carson and her date, Peter Elliott.” He punched Matt. “You remember Peter, don’t you?”

      “Oh, yeah. Peter would be hard to forget.”

      Whatever was wrong with Matt? He looked like he had indigestion.

      “Clint mentioned you’d returned to Cedar Grove,” Matt said. “Something about working for the state?”

      Peter’s lips pressed together. “I’m director of social services. Clint keeps me informed as well—he says you’re doing quite well. In sales of some sort?”

      “You could call it that. I put together this little soiree. In fact, there are a couple of details I need to attend to.” He nodded then looped his arm through Jessica’s. “Come with me?”

      Jessica turned toward her and smiled. “Happy New Year, in case I don’t see you all later.”

      “Yes...” Matt glanced around, and his eyes settled on Allie. “Happy New Year.”

      “You, too,” Allie said.

      As they walked away, Peter raised his eyebrows. “Another dance?”

      She lifted her gaze, and her breath quickened at the warm twinkle in his blue eyes. “You are a glutton for punishment, but yes, that would be nice.”

      * * *

      THE NIGHT SKY detonated in bursts of light and window-shaking explosions. In the backseat of a patrol car, Noah counted as church bells tolled in the New Year. The cop had stuck him there after Noah had tried to escape. He kicked the back of the driver’s seat in a steady rhythm. “I want to go see my mom.”

      “Sorry, kid. My orders are to take you to the shelter.”

      Tears burned the backs of Noah’s eyes. He didn’t know what would happen there, but no way was he going there.

      “But my mom, she’ll need me when she wakes up.” He tried to keep the whining out of his voice. Whining just made adults mad.

      “Someone will come and get you, probably Monday, and take you to see her.”

      Monday? That was three days away. She might be dead by then. He was going tonight. A plan popped into his mind. “You promise?”

      “Kid, if nobody comes, you call the station, and I’ll come personally and take you. Just ask for Jason.”

      Yeah, he knew those kinds of promises. His mom made them all the time. Besides, if the cop could take him Monday, he could take him right now. “Thanks.”

      The cruiser turned into a dark drive and pulled up to an equally dark house. The cop spoke to him over his shoulder. “I’m going to open the door, and if you run again, I’ll catch you, and I’ll put handcuffs on you. Understand?”

      Noah pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling. The cop’s eyes were kind, but Noah knew he was serious about what he said. “Y-yes, sir.” He’d just have to make sure the cop didn’t catch him.

      At the back of the house, a light glowed in the window, and the door opened before they reached it. A thick black woman met them at the steps in her bare feet and ushered them into the kitchen. The door clicked shut as butterflies fluttered in Noah’s stomach. The door had some kind of box beside it that the black lady punched. Had to be a lock. His breath hung in his chest. He was trapped.

      “Jason,” she said, nodding at the cop. Then she held out her hand. “I’m glad you made it, Noah.”

      She knew his name? He gazed up. And up. She must be ten feet tall. He swallowed, and she knelt in front of him, making them eye level.

      “I’m sorry, son.” She chuckled and the warm sound washed over him like a gentle rain. “Sometimes I forget that I can scare little people. My name is Miss Sarah.”

      He stood a little taller. “I wasn’t scared.”

      She still had her hand extended, and he stuck his out. Immediately it was swallowed in her dark one.

      “Are you hungry?” She widened her eyes like adults did sometimes when they talked to kids. “Could you eat some scrambled eggs and biscuits?”

      His mouth watered, but he shook his head, remembering the last time he’d been put in a shelter in another state. That lady was all nice as long as somebody was around, too. Probably as soon as the cop left, this one would do the same thing—get mad ’cause she had to clean up his mess.

      She ruffled his hair, and her knees popped as she stood. “Well, maybe you don’t want anything, but I bet Jason here does. Right, Jason?”

      “Some of your biscuits, Miss Sarah? Yes, ma’am.” The cop took off his hat and laid it on the table. “Noah, you sit there in the middle, and I’ll just take the end chair.”

      Noah did as he was told. The kitchen was warm, and his eyelids drooped. If he weren’t so hungry...

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