‘Of course,’ Barrett said, seeing no way out. ‘I’ll be there.’
‘Please see that you are. Good night.’
Holding the cell, Barrett let out a strangled scream. First Hugh and then this … almost like the two of them had planned it.
Hobbs, now playing peek-a-boo with Max, who seemed entranced by the big detective, said, ‘I spoke with the crime-scene team, and their computer guy. Someone was on your computer last night, but the only password used was yours.’
‘It wasn’t me.’
‘I know, but according to our resident geek it’s not that hard to get, from going into the hard drive and looking for frequently repeated code. After that he kind of lost me. But we know that whoever went into your office knows something about computers and has more than a few IQ points.’
‘Did he say what they were looking for, or what files they went into?’
‘Your patient records.’
‘Great! The single most confidential thing there is! Whose records were breached?’
‘Didn’t say, but they’re probably the most recent in your history. Also, there were traces of talc on the keyboard, so it’s likely they used gloves. What we need to do is have you boot up. So I thought we’d check out your office first and then shoot over to interview Ashley Kane’s roommate?’
‘It’s a plan,’ she said, also remembering there had been mention of dinner and that the whole outing reeked of a date, albeit a twisted cop–shrink kind of one. ‘Let me check something first.’ She punched into her phone’s history screen and compared the numbers for Hugh and Janice – they were different.
‘You still up for this?’ Hobbs asked.
‘I guess,’ she said, realizing that more than anything she needed a friendly voice and someone who wouldn’t ask her to do things she didn’t want to do, or criticize her, or bring up topics that made her flesh crawl. ‘You sure you don’t mind me bringing Max?’
‘Naah, the little monster kind of grows on you; I always thought it would be fun to have a boy, not that I’d ever let my girls know.’
‘You’re good with kids,’ she noted, seeing how easy he was with Max. She knew he had two daughters and an ex, but seeing him in her condo, holding Max … What are you thinking? He’s dating someone. That ship sailed, and don’t you dare bring it up. You hurt him once, Barrett.
‘Love kids, probably why I stayed with Margaret long past the time we should have split. This joint-custody thing blows.’
She fixed the straps on the navy BabyBjörn sling over her shoulders and the buckle around her middle. ‘For the first few weeks I was petrified, he was so tiny,’ she admitted. ‘I kept thinking I’d hurt him.’
‘They’re sturdier than they look,’ he said, and then, keying into something in her expression, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘What’s not? My boss is looking for ways to can my ass, I’ve got a doc at work I don’t trust as far as I can throw him, Jimmy Martin is coming up for his six-month review and I think they want me to testify … Someone broke into my office, my patient just ran away from Croton, and a couple days ago I found two dead teenagers … Not a good week. And you’re sure this isn’t some kind of child abuse, dragging him along like this?’
‘Naah, however, should you strap the kid in Kevlar and use him as a shield …’
‘Not funny,’ she said taking the now sleepy Max and arranging him in the sling.
‘Yeah, it kind of was, considering the way you dragged that social worker into that crack house yesterday.’
‘Thanks for reminding me. I’ve a bad feeling that I’ve not heard the end of that. Here, do you mind taking this?’ she asked, handing him the soft-sided bag she used for baby supplies.
‘It hasn’t been all bad,’ he commented. ‘You did call me.’
‘True,’ she said, ‘that’s one for the plus column,’ and then quickly added, ‘I’ve missed you, Ed.’
‘Ditto, just don’t do it again.’
TWELVE
Barrett raced up the broad steps of the conference center two blocks from City Hall Plaza. She was half an hour late, and wondered if that would be another shot of ammo Janice would lob her way. This was the last place she wanted to be. Her thoughts still on the scary interview she and Hobbs had had last night with a terrified Taylor Osborn. The eighteen-year-old had painted a picture of rampant drug abuse inside the dormitory, only instead of soft drugs like pot and alcohol, the drug of choice had become heroin. Sadly, the girl had given them little concrete, but Hobbs thought he’d be able to get the narcotics squad to try tracing the source of the dope from the dorm to its point of origin, although as he reminded her, ‘Those kind of investigations can take months … even a year or more.’ But the thing tearing her up was Jerod. She feared the worst, and the more she thought about his escape, the more it seemed someone had broken him out, someone who did not have his best interest at heart. One thing Hobbs had said last night was also digging away at her: ‘Why does this Jerod kid get to you so much?’ It was the kind of insightful question she’d expect from Hobbs or Houssman, and she knew that there was something about Jerod that had her pushing above and beyond where she’d normally go for a patient – especially one of hers with a long criminal history. There was something about him and it went beyond her belief that underneath it all he was a good person. Something about him that she couldn’t yet get her finger on.
Inside, the soaring lobby hummed with hundreds of voices as people clustered in groups, drinking coffee and orange juice while balancing blue-paper plates of bagels and mini-Danish. She recognized a few faces, higher-level managers, the commissioner of corrections, police administrators, the chief juvenile judge … She saw that this was meant to be a big deal, or at least appear that way.
Across the ceiling a blue-and-gold banner had been hung, clarifying that she was at the NEW YORK STATE INTER-AGENCY TASK FORCE ON AT-RISK YOUTH. Along one side of the massive entryway were cloth-covered tables that matched the banners, with coffee urns, pitchers of OJ, and tiered trays of pastries and bagels. To her right was a long bank of tables with a second banner – Registration. Relieved that nothing had yet started she found her name on the sign-in sheets for last names beginning with the letter ‘C’ and put her initials next to it. A woman seated across, looked at the sheet and rapidly wrote Barrett’s name in black magic-marker on a peel-off tag that now proclaimed Hi, my name is Barrett Conyors, MD – and handed it to her. ‘Here’s your packet,’ and she handed her a thick blue folder, the same color as the tablecloths, with her name on a sticker in the upper right corner.
With the tag stuck to the lapel of her navy blazer, she was about to head for the buffet, having raced from the house without having had a bite to eat, when a bell chimed three times.
Undeterred by the signal, she snagged a cup of coffee and a poppy-seed bagel with cream cheese. Balancing her bag and light breakfast, she turned and followed the flow of attendees into the auditorium. A sign overhead informed her no food or drink allowed inside but as no one else seemed to care, she followed suit.
Inside she immediately spotted Hugh’s well-groomed head in the front row. He was looking around expectantly – hopefully, not for her. And not wanting to take that chance she headed toward the back, and spotted the TV cameras. Great, she thought, realizing that this was going to be televised on the government’s cable channel. She also ran a mental calculation on what this shindig must be costing. There had to be over five hundred state employees in attendance, most of them toward the higher end of the pay spectrum. The day would run the taxpayers a quarter million bucks – hopefully something would come from it.
Her eyes landed on a couple empty seats in the last row. She turned to her right, nearly spilling her coffee on a short woman with white hair, ‘Excuse me,’ and made a beeline, just squeezing through to one as a tall man in black jeans and blazer grabbed the other. Relieved to be far from the cameras, she sank back into the chair, coffee and bagel still intact, and quickly glanced at her neig
hbor. He smiled back, and she found herself staring at one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen … possibly the best-looking man ever.
He smiled over perfect teeth, and extended his hand. ‘I’m Chase Strand – DFYS.’
‘Barrett Conyors,’ she said, balancing her bagel on her lap and hoping she wasn’t about to drop her coffee, or otherwise embarrass herself. God, he has gorgeous eyes – almost gold. They reminded her of a painting she’d seen of a dark-haired Persian boy that hung at the Met.
‘Quite the turnout,’ he commented. ‘Of course, my supervisor made it clear that attendance was not optional.’
‘Yes,’ she said, reaching for the distraction of the blue binder that she’d wedged into the outer pocket of her bag, ‘there’s a lot of that going around.’ She flipped it open and felt him watching her. She looked back, wondering what had gotten his attention, and thinking that he could easily have been on the cover of a magazine.
‘Dr. Conyors?’ he asked.
‘Yes, how did you know?’
He pointed at her lapel. ‘Your nametag. What kind of doctor?’
‘Psychiatrist,’ she said, wondering at his interest, while sneaking a peak at his nametag, which showed him to be a counselor. She also noted the absence of hair on the expanse of throat and chest that showed through the open two top buttons of his dark-green shirt. ‘I work in forensics,’ she added, wondering if this handsome young man would even know what that was.
‘Really, that’s interesting. So the “not guilty by reason of mental insanity” people?’
‘Exactly, and quite a bit more,’ she said, taking a sip of coffee and noting how dry her mouth had become. ‘And you’re with the Department of Family and Youth Services.’
‘I’m a counselor … at least for now.’ He flashed a smile that was merry and mischievous.
‘And then?’ she asked, feeling the contagion of his joy and wondering just how young he was. She was guessing twenty-two, maybe twenty-three, twenty-five tops.
‘I start medical school in the fall.’
‘Really? Congratulations. Where are you going?’
‘NYU, I just got my acceptance letter. I also got into Columbia, but it’s easier to stay downtown.’
OK, she thought, accepted to two of the best medical schools in the country, crazily handsome and smart, and as the lights started to dim, Maybe this conference won’t be a total waste … of course he could be gay. Does he shave his chest? And for God’s sake, Barrett – way too young!
Sneaking the occasional glance at him, and suspecting he might be doing the same back, Barrett half-listened as the Governor got up to the spot-lit podium and made his opening remarks. He stressed the critical importance of this initiative, how change must come, how each and every child entrusted to the state must be given the opportunity to …
She felt a shiver as Chase turned and whispered close to her ear, ‘I don’t like to be a cynic, but I wonder if this might all be a terrible waste.’
‘It’s almost impossible,’ she whispered back, ‘so many variables with each of these kids and not well suited for top-down solutions that a lot of suits make at a conference.’
‘One size does not fit all,’ he responded, as the moderator introduced the keynote speaker for the morning session.
Barrett’s attention was suddenly pulled to the podium by the mention of her boss’s name.
The moderator, a consultant whose firm had been given the task of pulling together what was clearly a major conference, gushed through Janice’s accomplishments. ‘We are thrilled and honored to have with us today a woman who won’t just tell us about the problem, but will help us chip away at a series of harsh realities to find core solutions that can make a difference in the lives of real children. Dr. Janice Fleet has not just talked the talk, she has walked the walk, from her years with the Department of Family and Youth Services, where she obtained seven- and eight-figure federal grants, while always maintaining a clinical caseload, to her ground-breaking achievements opening Mother’s Milk, an internationally recognized string of drop-in centers for at-risk, runaway, and throw-away youth. The Mother’s Milk centers have set a standard on getting services into the field. Every year Mother’s Milk provides tens of thousands of homeless and at-risk youths with critical medical care, food, social support, housing services, legal aid, or just a friendly ear, always with the motto – We do not judge.
‘It was a sad day for the department when she left to take on her current position as the Commissioner for Mental Health. However, as she’s here to tell us today, this move does not represent an abandonment of her commitment to our youth, but is the next critical step in building bridges to support our most vulnerable youth.
‘We are very grateful that she is with us today as we undertake this most important task. I give you … Dr. Janice Fleet.’
Barrett wondered why Janice hadn’t mentioned she was the keynote. Then again, she had been somewhat preoccupied with Jerod. She felt a twinge of guilt as she watched her boss take the podium in a burgundy skirt suit, her blonde hair worn up, and her cream blouse open at the neck. ‘I’d like to thank all of you for having me here … and for being here. I’m also a bit worried, because I’m not certain that I have any great expertise … or answers.’
Her candor surprised Barrett as Janice freed the microphone and stepped from behind the podium to the front of the stage.
‘I’ll tell you what my approach has been, and this could turn into the shortest talk ever. What I know to be true in terms of working with these kids is that everything must happen at the level of the individual child or teen. This doesn’t mean you can’t think in broader terms about program development, resource allocation, and all of that other stuff that we administrators like so much.’ There was a round of polite laughter. ‘End of the day what matters and what makes a difference is how well that case manager connects with that child. Is there enough food in their belly? Do they have a safe place to sleep at night? Is somebody harming them, and how do we intervene and not make things worse? Because as someone who’s worked for years in state agencies, I know that even the most well-intended intervention can make things worse. Children want to be with their parents, they need to be with their parents, and yet we’re often faced with situations that are too dangerous and too damaging.’ Janice looked down at the floor, and then back out at her audience, seemingly scanning the faces, and smiling at people she recognized – including Hugh. ‘Sometimes I hate talking about this stuff, because it can quickly get to that point that seems overwhelming, almost paralyzing. But then I come back to what I know is true, and works. Everything we do, without exception, must center on that one child or teenager, never losing focus of who they are, what they’ve been through, what they need, and perhaps most importantly finding out what they want. It’s not a new approach, and it’s certainly not something that I lay claim to. I like the expression “meet the person where they’re at” that’s been coined by the Harm Reduction movement and I also think the motivational approaches that have been so well studied with substance abuse and dependence are getting to exactly the same point. It’s about practicality and doing what works. If someone shoots dope and doesn’t want to stop, how can you help them? Well, maybe by focusing on what they do want … a place to live, a chance to get back into school, a job, friends, a girlfriend, medical help, clean clothes.’ She paused, and shook her head. ‘This was the approach I took when establishing Mother’s Milk. All of the case workers, and even the volunteers, were trained to not judge these kids and young adults who have been through so much. Everything they do – even the bad things – makes sense. They turn to drugs to numb the pain, the crimes they commit are for food, drugs and clothing … and sadly some of the crimes that will get them locked up are the very ones that were perpetrated against them as children. When I first started out in this field, I would never have believed that I’d get to this point. But now, when someone tells me that one of our clients is a sexual predator, my first t
hought is that they are likely also a survivor of trauma and sexual abuse; sadly, I am almost never wrong. That had a great deal to do with my shift from my first love at DFYS to my current position with DMH. Our kids grow up, and how they make the transition into adulthood …’ She paused and looked down, there was brutal frankness in what she said next. ‘It’s not going well.’
In spite of her reluctance to be there, Barrett found Janice’s words moving and on target. She espoused a matter-of-fact approach and the only one that would make a difference in someone’s life.
‘Powerful stuff,’ Chase whispered, as Janice finished.
‘Indeed,’ Barrett said, and wondered why she’d responded like a Jane Austen heroine. She’d also started to notice more about Chase, at whom she was trying hard not stare. His black leather boots were trendy and expensive. She wouldn’t have put money on it, but having prowled the discount racks at Prada, they had the distinctive flare of the designer. Perhaps knock-offs, but even so, what did that say about the man? No wedding ring. Metrosexual? Gay? His jacket, too, perfectly tailored, not a wrinkle across his broad shoulders. The guy was into fashion, but counselors for the DFYS, especially young ones, weren’t that well paid – forty or fifty grand tops.
Next speaker was Commissioner Carlos Martinez – Janice’s replacement at DFYS – armed with a PowerPoint presentation. Mostly statistics and charts about high-risk kids aging out of the youth system – they were grim. Thirty percent arrested at least once in the year following their release; over seventy percent had serious mental health problems, and roughly the same number into problems with drugs and/or alcohol. ‘As desperate as all of that is,’ he continued, ‘this is the part that we have got to do something about. Ten percent of these kids will be dead within three years of leaving our … care. This was in the morning paper.’ Barrett shot forward in her seat as he flashed a black-and-white scan of a newspaper article – it had today’s date, a crime-scene photo that showed the bodies of Ashley Kane and Bobby Dix. Her heart raced and she thought of Jerod, and felt a rush of helplessness; she shouldn’t be here, she should be trying to find him.
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