“You’ll be more surprised when you find out who it is.” Maricci shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “Sophy Marchand.”
Ty blinked. “Sophy wants Dahlia and Daisy Holigan?”
“She does. She’s been through the whole process and gotten certified as a foster parent, and she volunteered to take them. Not agreed. Volunteered, as in called Jill yesterday and offered.”
“Whoa. Does she know what she’s getting in to?”
“Says she does. She went to school with Maggie.”
Sophy Marchand—little miss nice girl, sweetest woman in Copper Lake, upper-middle-class, honor roll, cheerleader—and Maggie Holigan, doper, bad girl, extensive rap sheet before she quit high school, in and out of jail like the rest of the family. Class and trash. Dahlia and Daisy wouldn’t know how to behave.
“Jill wants you to meet her at her office in five minutes. Have fun.”
Yeah, he would rather face a half dozen unruly drunks than those two little girls. What did that say about him? he wondered as he gulped down the last of his coffee and then headed out the door.
He answered his own question with a grin: that he knew when to cut his losses and run.
Social services was just down the street in the old courthouse. Jill Montgomery was coming down the broad steps as he approached. Her gray-flecked red hair was pulled back in a ponytail in deference to the heat, and she wore a sleeveless dress that looked big enough for two of her with flat sandals.
Ty sure appreciated a woman who wore fitted clothes like Nev. She might not love the way she looked as much as her sister apparently loved her appearance, but she didn’t try to hide her shape. Guys like him were grateful for it.
“Aw, I thought the lieutenant liked you, Detective. Did you piss him off to get stuck with this job?” Jill asked, meeting him at the bottom of the steps and then gesturing toward the parking lot out back.
“Nah, he’s counting on me charming the girls.” When she snorted, he went on. “If that doesn’t work, I run faster than anyone else in the department. I’ve got a better chance of catching them.”
“Yeah, better you than me.” She raised one hand and wiggled her fingers, drawing attention to the bandages on two of them. Bites or scratches from Saturday’s transfer, no doubt.
Her county-issued car was old, crappy and way too cramped for his long legs. He worked his way into the passenger seat, fastened the seat belt and directed the air-conditioning vents full blast at his face as soon as she started the engine.
“Who’s got the kids now?”
“Liz and Joe Saldana. Because they both work, they’re only on our emergency list. Everyone else on the list has kept Dahlia and Daisy before. We never get any repeat takers.” Jill gave a harried sigh. “I’m not sure about this placement, either. God bless her, Sophy’s the nicest girl in the world, but I don’t think she’s got a clue what she’s signed on for. I wish there was someone more experienced, but... The naive rush in where old-timers fears to tread.”
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Granddad had always turned it around. In his view, angels did the rushing when the fools were fearful. If Sophy didn’t already qualify as an angel, taking responsibility for these kids would put her there.
The Saldana house was located in a quiet neighborhood with big yards and broad sidewalks. Jill parked in the shade of an oak halfway up the driveway, and they walked to the porch. The doorbell echoed when she rang it. Other than that, the house appeared extraordinarily still.
With Holigans involved, that could be a problem.
After a moment, Liz opened the door, her hair standing on end, her expression strained and her T-shirt wearing what appeared to be jelly. Grape. Ten feet behind her, Dahlia and Daisy stood in the living room doorway, arms folded over their chests, mutinous looks in their matching dark eyes. They looked just like their mother, though healthier, more innocent and more vulnerable. God, help them. Please let them have a better life than her.
“You’re here,” Liz said, false cheeriness barely covering the desperation in her voice. “Come on in.”
The sisters had apparently the broken the will of the former deputy U.S. marshal. This woman had protected federal witnesses, faced off with felons, tracked fugitives all across the country and survived an attempt on her own life, only to be beaten by two little girls.
It was one thing to find this funny from a distance, Ty acknowledged. Up close, it wasn’t so entertaining. It just cemented his own fears that Sophy had asked for more than she could handle.
“Hey, Daisy. Dahlia.”
The girls turned their identical glares his way, tilting their heads back till they saw his face and then letting the same smirk curve the corners of their mouths at the same time. They looked so much like their mama, their uncles and cousins that it was scary.
Liz, handling paperwork with Jill, glanced at them. “Say hello to Detective Gadney, girls.”
“We don’t talk to no cops,” Dahlia said. Daisy bobbed her head in agreement.
Ty crouched down in front of them, careful to stay out of kicking and scratching distance. “That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. I saw your mom this morning. She’s doing okay.” It was stretching the truth a bit. He had stopped by the jail and checked on her. She’d been in the medical unit, curled on her cot crying, shaking badly enough to rattle the bed. Missing a couple days’ of meth could do that to a person. “She said to tell you she loves you.”
And that was stretching the truth into something unrecognizable. When she’d seen him, she’d cursed at him, so agitated the spit had flown from her mouth. But if she’d been calmer, in a better place, he liked to think she would have given him that message.
The girls still just smirked.
They were pretty as little angels: olive skin, wispy silky black hair, big eyes, Cupid’s bows, delicate bones. They’d been checked out by doctors after their mother’s last arrest and were in good shape themselves, showing no effects of living in a meth house, and they would be checked out again. This time, hopefully, would be the last.
“What have you got there, Daisy?”
She loosened one arm to reach down and grab the stuffed monkey on the floor beside her. “He’s mine.”
Dahlia elbowed her. “We don’t talk to cops.”
Sighing inwardly, Ty stood. He wasn’t surprised. If the Holigans had a family crest, it would say in Latin, We don’t talk to no cops. It was a lesson they learned along with tying their shoes, dressing themselves and saying the alphabet.
When Jill put the paperwork back in her bag, Liz came close to Ty and murmured, “Better hold their hands on the way to the car. I caught Dahlia trying to climb out a second-floor window last night, and Joe had to chase Daisy halfway down the block this morning.”
“Good training for becoming a parent yourself.” He grinned as her upper lip curled very much like the girls’. “Ladies, you don’t have to talk to me, but you do have to hold hands with me. Come on.”
Neither moved a muscle. He moved forward, pried Daisy’s hand free and clasped it, and then he jumped back just in time to avoid Dahlia’s kick. Daisy was dancing in circles trying to free herself as he claimed Dahlia’s wrist. Seconds before Daisy’s teeth would have sunk into his skin, he gave both of them a gentle shake. “Hey. Do you want to walk out of here or do you want me to carry you like babies?”
Both girls stilled, notched their sullenness up another bit and then walked grudgingly with him to the door. There he made one last effort to get some courtesy from them. “Is there anything you want to say to Mrs. Saldana for taking care of you this weekend?”
“We’ve had lots of emergency foster parents,” Dahlia said. “You suck.”
Jill’s sigh was loud enough to mask Liz’s. “Let’s get going, Detective. I need to make alternative plans since I’m fa
irly sure we’ll need them. Thanks, Liz.”
Ty and the girls were halfway down the steps when Liz spoke. “Dahlia, Daisy, good luck. Ty, tell Sophy I’m praying for her.”
“We all will be.”
* * *
Though it had been a shock seeing for real the place she’d only dreamed about for so long, Nev decided that downtown Copper Lake was the perfect little small-town center. The square was beautiful with its lush plantings, war monuments and gazebo. The wind rustling through the trees, along with the flap of flags near the monument, was soothing. The shop owners and customers were friendly, there wasn’t a single empty storefront on the blocks surrounding the square, and all the businesses were clean and inviting.
She’d bought a few small gifts for YaYa, Lima and Marieka and picked up an inexpensive bouquet of flowers for her motel room. She had even wandered down most of the side streets and was leaving the square on her way back to the motel when a commotion ahead caught her attention.
“Daisy, come back here!” It was Ty’s voice—how quickly she’d come to recognize it—and he was running full speed down the sidewalk toward her. Fifty feet ahead of him was the object of his pursuit: a little girl in cropped overalls clutching a stuffed monkey. Without looking left or right, she charged into the street.
Brakes squealed, a horn sounded and Nev closed her eyes for an instant. Dear God. Then Ty yelled the girl’s name again just as she stepped onto the curb mere feet from Nev. Catching her was as easy as grabbing the back straps of her overalls. Brought up short, Daisy tried frantically to wiggle loose, grunting and kicking, but Nev had enough experience to hold her at arm’s length.
“Little girl, don’t make me pick you up off your feet and dangle you in the air,” she warned.
Daisy shot her an angry look, drew a deep breath and let out a scream that could have curled hair. “Help, help, stranger! This is not my mom! Call 911!”
Nev risked a look around. She was a stranger, after all. She half expected to see a horde rushing to the girl’s rescue, but other than stares and disgusted eye-rolls, the only one paying any attention was Ty. He waited for traffic to pass and then darted across the street and caught the girl’s arm.
“You are gonna get yourself in so much trouble, Daisy.” Then he smiled at Nev. “Nice catch.”
“I told you, I taught Sunday school for years. The first thing you learn is how quickly they can get away from you. The second is you don’t get to spank their bottoms no matter how much they deserve it.”
The girl gaped up at her. “No one hits me!”
Nev bent close to her. “I can tell. That’s part of the problem. You haven’t had consistent discipline in your life.”
“She hasn’t had consistent anything in her life,” Ty murmured. “Except chaos and neglect.”
Nev’s heart ached for the defiant little girl, but she covered it as she straightened. “What are you going to jail for, Daisy?”
Those big eyes doubled in size. “I’m not goin’ to jail! You can’t put kids in jail. Don’t you know nothing? Mama goes to jail, and me and Dahlia go to foster care. When she gets out, so do we.”
The matter-of-fact words just increased the hurt. Instead of gripping the denim straps, Nev wanted to kneel and wrap her arms around the girl. She shouldn’t know anything about jail or foster care at her age. She certainly shouldn’t have experienced it, obviously multiple times.
She didn’t know what to say. She’d had lots of experience at church with little kids, but sheltered kids. Kids whose mothers, fathers and/or grandparents came to church with them. Kids whose families and neighbors lined them out when they misbehaved and set standards for them, kids who understood there were consequences for acting out. Her upbringing, her lovely neighborhood, was old-fashioned and stable and apparently incredibly insulated from the rest of the world.
“I’ve got her now.” Ty gently nudged her hand away, wrapping his fingers around the left shoulder strap. “You haven’t been properly introduced. Nev, this is Daisy Holigan. Daisy, this is Miss Nev.”
“I’m happy to make your acquaintance, Daisy.”
The girl didn’t respond until Ty nudged her. She scowled at him and then squinted at her. “Nev’s a weird name.”
“It is, isn’t it? But you and your sister and I are all named after beautiful things—you two for flowers, and my name is heaven spelled backward.”
“Why isn’t it heaven spelled right?”
“I don’t know, honey. I’m just glad it isn’t. I’d rather be called Nev than Heav.” No doubt, instead of Nevy, she would have been saddled with the nickname Heavy for her entire life.
“Come on, Daisy. We’ve got to get back to Miss Sophy’s.” Ty flashed a glance at Nev, warming her all the way to her toes. “Maybe Miss Nev would like to walk with us.”
“I’d love that. Is it okay with you, Daisy?”
The girl glowered a moment and then shrugged as if it couldn’t possibly make any difference to her. However, when Nev reached for her free hand after readjusting the shopping bag over her shoulder, Daisy didn’t pull away. Her fingers remained limp, but it was a small victory.
They crossed the street and strolled along the sidewalk toward Carolina Avenue. “Daisy and Dahlia are staying with Sophy Marchand for a while,” Ty remarked. “She lives in the white house there, above her quilt shop.”
Nev glanced at the shop, a sign outside proclaiming it Hanging by a Thread. “Oh, I love quilts. YaYa made one for every one of her children and grandchildren. I’ve always planned to learn so I could do the same. Do you like quilts, Daisy?”
The girl opened her mouth, but another black-haired girl, a little older and bigger and clearly her sister, stepped through the gate in the fence that surrounded the yard and harshly said, “Daisy, we don’t talk to cops!”
Daisy dropped Nev’s hand as if she’d been scalded and tried to jerk loose from Ty without success. “I wasn’t talking to her,” she hotly denied, and then her face flushed and her gaze dropped to the sidewalk. “Not really.”
“A cop?” Nev laughed. “Oh, honey, I’m not a police officer. You must be Dahlia. Pretty as your namesake. I’m Miss Nev, and I just ran into your sister down at the square.”
“Yeah, right. We saw you grab her.” Dahlia fixed a glare on her that no little girl should be capable of. “We don’t talk to no one.”
A blonde holding tightly to the collar of Dahlia’s shirt offered a strained smile. The troubled look in her brown eyes made Nev wonder if this was the foster mother and just how much experience she had taking care of kids. “We appreciate your quick response. I just turned my back for a second...”
Ty made the introductions, careful to include Dahlia. The blonde was Sophy, and her uneasiness made clear this was her first time fostering. What a pair to start with.
“Okay, ladies.” Ty crouched in front of the girls. “I’ve got to get back to work. Here.” He offered each of them a business card. “If you need anything, you call me, okay?”
Daisy lifted her hand, but Dahlia batted it down again. After a moment, he slid one card into the front center pocket of Daisy’s overalls. “Sophy has my number, too, so unless you want to see me again today, I’d suggest you do what she says. Next time I see your mom, I’ll tell her that you’re doing fine and getting lots of exercise.” He grinned with the last part, but both girls just stared at him.
“Okay. Be good.” He stood, laid his hand briefly on Sophy’s shoulder and then slid the other card into Nev’s hand. “I’ll see you.”
Though her only response was a smile, the excited woman inside her did a little happy dance. She had a dinner date tonight with the best-looking guy she’d ever seen in her life, and she couldn’t wait.
As he walked away, Sophy asked, “Would you like to come inside for a glass of tea? I was just getting ready to show
the girls the apartment when...”
When Daisy made a run for it. Though Ty would have caught her sooner rather than later, Nev said a silent prayer of gratitude that she’d been there to help. If that child had been hurt... “I would love something tall and cool. It wasn’t quite this hot or humid when I left the motel a few hours ago. I’m parched.”
Relief washed across Sophy’s face. “Great. Come on, kids. The stairs are this way.” Still holding on to Dahlia, she climbed the steps to the porch but turned left, going around the house to a back stairway. Nev didn’t try to hold Daisy’s hand again, but she dogged her every step.
The stairs led to a small landing not quite large enough to hold the four of them. Sophy unlocked the double-keyed dead bolt and then led them into a large airy space with lots of windows covered by security grates. As long as she stayed in the apartment with the girls, escape shouldn’t be a problem, Nev thought. But the woman had a business to run, and two little girls couldn’t be cooped up forever.
“Beautiful place,” Nev remarked as she set her shopping bag and purse on the island that separated living room and kitchen. Sophy had kept all the great features of the old house—high ceilings, wood floors, elaborate moldings—and updated everything else. It was much more traditional than Ty’s house in the colors and furniture, but Nev could be happy either place.
“Thanks. Dahlia, Daisy, your room is the one with the open door. Your bags are already in there. Why don’t you go unpack while I get the snacks?”
For a long moment, they simply stood there. Nev hesitated, not wanting to butt in, and then waved with both hands. “Go on now. Shoo. You take too long, Miss Sophy and I might eat all the snacks ourselves, and then you’d be sorry.”
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