“They were psychologically abusing them,” I say quietly.
She nods, and the silence that follows is thick and heavy.
I straighten slowly, guilt gnawing at my gut.
Rick slams his fist into the door. “We’re not letting this go.”
“No,” I agree. “We’re not.”
Natalie looks between us, her shoulders curling inward. “I don’t want to make trouble.” She rubs at her temple, exhausted. “I should just go back. I don’t know why I thought I could leave and finally have a life.”
“You’re not the one fuckin’ making trouble,” Rick growls, then backtracks immediately. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose you.”
She nods, her expression turning grim. “I’m finally happy and having a life, I don’t want to give this up. But what can I do?”
“You’re not going back to them. We’re gonna work together to figure this out. Report them to CPS and do whatever it takes to get those kids pulled out of the home.”
“They’re careful. Anything that they’re accused of they could just say it’s the kids being oversensitive. I tried telling my teachers, but no one ever believed me. My foster parents were such a big part of the community.”
“We also shouldn’t stay here tonight,” Rick adds. “They know where we live. We can’t take a chance on them circling back around for another round of whatever in the fuck this was.”
“Did you tell them where you were living?” I ask Natalie.
She shakes her head.
“Shit,” Rick mutters.
“What?”
“The police check. I think that might have alerted them. I was at the Las Salinas PD earlier today getting that done so Natalie could start working with us.”
“They have connections?” I ask her.
“They’re well respected in the church. It’s possible,” she says.
“Rick’s right, we probably shouldn’t stay here tonight. We can stay at the clubhouse. It’s secure. Nobody in their right mind would roll up on the Savage Legion.”
She thinks it over for a minute before agreeing. “Okay. If that’s what the two of you really think is best, I’ll roll with it.”
We pack without further delay, grabbing essentials and helping Natalie with her things. Rick hovers, restless, anger leaking out of him in sharp breaths and muttered curses. Natalie is quiet and pensive. I worry that she’s set on returning to her foster family even though I know she values her own personal freedom.
***
Rick insists upon driving her in the truck. I follow them on my bike, keeping my eyes open for potential danger. We end up in Siege’s office with him, Rigs, Tank, and Dutch. It’s after dark by this time but all the club officers offered to meet with us to help unravel what’s going on.
Natalie sits in a chair in front of Siege’s desk with her hands folded in her lap. She looks dispirited.
When Rick or I don’t get the conversation ball rolling, Siege finally speaks up. “Bear brought us up to speed during his initial call. Rigs mentioned how your sister showed up here looking for you. What I need is to hear your firsthand account of what went on in that foster home. You need to tell us everything,” he says, his voice rough. “All of it. I don’t care how small you think it is. If it’s anything odd, I want to judge for myself if it’s relevant.”
She swallows and nods once. “Okay.”
Natalie starts with being placed there and taken care of mostly by older kids. She launches into how many kids were in the house at any given time and how the foster parents rotated them in and out over the years, stating the foster home was always at maximum capacity, and how the foster parents were always chasing the next stipend. She points out what she already told us about her being the oldest, which meant she was more useful. Hearing all that makes me want to smash something.
“I handled most of the caretaking,” she explains. “I woke them up, fed them breakfast, made sure they were dressed properly for the day and took them to school and any appointments. If anything went wrong, it fell on me.”
Rigs asks, “Are you saying they turned you into a full-time childcare worker when you were just a child yourself?”
“I took over most of those duties when I was twelve. The driving had to wait until I was sixteen and got my license. They said helping out with the younger kids taught responsibility,” she continues, stone-faced. “They insisted I was mature for my age. That I had an obligation to help the family.”
