I grunted. “Paperwork or a bottle of Jack Daniels?”
She gasped, and then scowled at me. “You don’t know me. You have no idea what it’s like working with these kids.”
“I know it’s your damn job to watch over them. To protect them.” I made a disgusted sound at the back of my throat before brushing past her. I didn’t push her, but my sudden movement caused her to stumble out of my way.
I barged through the main entrance of the home.
“Hey, you’re not authorized to go in there.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I spun and growled at her. That instantly made her close her mouth.
I moved past the main entrance counter, noting the empty front chair. The halls were clear, so I chose to check each door, even if it was closed. I was as quiet as possible, hating to disturb the children, many of whom I knew suffered from their traumas. Out of the ten rooms, a few children slept, and some were still awake. But Cole wasn’t in any of the rooms.
A hunch told me that this home was relevant to Cole’s disappearance.
“Are these the only rooms?” I asked the woman, who continued to follow me. She suddenly had an interest in checking in on all of the children that stayed there.
“Yes.”
I eyed her, discerning if she was telling the truth or not. When I decided she was, I headed toward the exit. Instead of climbing back into my car, I went with my gut and decided to check around the perimeter. Behind the home was a thick copse of trees that separated the home from a small neighborhood.
I followed a trail that led directly from the home, through the trees, and to the closed off end of the neighborhood. The lit streetlights allowed me to see enough into the distance to spot a park about a hundred feet from the clearing of the trees. In the park, on a swing, I could make out a shadowy figure.
My feet started moving before I fully deciphered the scene in front of me. The figure was too small to be an adult, and my gut screamed that this was Cole. When I got to within about ten feet, he looked up from the swing.
“Hi, Mr. Brutus,” he said with his dark hoodie still covering his head.
“We’ve been looking for you.”
He dropped his head and kicked a small rock underneath his foot.
I started to sit on the swing next to him but then thought better of it. Instead, I crouched low, directly in front of him. “How did you get out here?”
His blue eyes met mine. In his eyes, I could see years’ worth of pain. I had to force myself not to show the anger that welled up in me. He wasn’t even ten years old and had already seen more than any child deserved to see. I’d watched him open up little by little in the year and a half since Kayla and Joshua adopted him.
But he continued to carry the memories of what he went through before he made it to the Townsends.
“I saved up some of my allowances and walked out to the main street to catch a cab.”
I blinked. That was so damned old school. I didn’t think a kid his age would even think of it. Most would’ve turned to an app on their phone to call an Uber or something, which would've made tracing him a hell of a lot easier.
“I didn’t want to wait for them to say good-bye.” He kicked another rock. “I hate good-byes,” he murmured.
“For who to say good-bye?”
He lifted his eyes to meet mine. “Mom and Dad.” He shrugged, like I should’ve known the answer to my question.
“Why would you need to say good-bye?”
“Not me.” He shook his head. “Them.” He paused and turned his head away from me. I could see water welling up in his eyes.
“Cole, what is it? Your parents are worried sick about you.”
“They don’t have to be, okay? I know they’re getting rid of me soon. So I bailed before they had to do it.”
I stood, confused. “Joshua and Kayla aren’t kicking you out. Is that what you thought?”
He swallowed. “It’s been over a year. I’ve never stayed with a family longer than a year. They’ll probably want a real kid soon. That’s what all the other foster moms wanted, the ones who didn’t keep me—” His voice broke off, but he sucked in a breath to prevent the sob from spilling out.
