“That ship has sailed, my friend. No—scratch that. You’re not my friend. Because friendship runs both ways. And I amnotyours.”
She starts walking away from me.
“Tina, please. I’m just asking for two minutes.”
She stops and turns to face me. “You’ve got one.”
“When I found out their grandfather didn’t want them, I talked to my parents,” I say quickly, knowing I have to get the important parts out. “They intended to adopt both girls from the start.”
“Then why didn’t they?” she asks, her lips pressed tight, like she’s holding back a string of choice words.
"Elle had emotional and mental health issues that needed to be addressed before she could be reunited with Izzy."
"And who exactly gave you that bogus piece of intel?"
"Tina, it was all in her file," I say. "I kept tabs on Elle for an entire year... until she ran away."
Her eyes narrow, and she lets out a short, humorless breath—almost a laugh.
"That’s just it,Dick Tracy. She never ran away."
"What?!" I snap, unable to mask my shock.
"Your minute’s up," she fires back, then turns on her heel and takes off down the trail.
***
I hadn’t thought about that day in years—the day I drove to Hanover. That brick fortress of a group home, too quiet for a place full of teenage girls. I remember thinking:This can’t be where kids spend the better part of their lives.
A tote bag with Dani's belongings from the foster home sat on the floor beside me as I waited in the lobby, my eyes focused on the assistant director's office door, waiting for her to come out.
Then I saw her.
Tall. Long blond hair. Younger than I expected. The kind of presence that made you straighten your back without thinking. Striking looks. Calm demeanor—or maybe just controlled. She wore a navy blazer, her heels clicking sharply on the polished floor, a subtle trace of perfume reaching me as she crossed the front lobby.
"You must be Officer Callahan," she said, her voice smooth as silk, yet clipped at the edges. "We spoke on the phone. I'm the assistant director."
"Ms. Fletcher," I said, shaking her hand—still sporting a bandage over the bite on my forearm. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. I'm here to check on a girl webrought in last week. Danielle Hartman. She’s fourteen, small with blond hair."
She smiled faintly. “Ah, yes. Dani.” She folded her arms loosely across her chest, glancing down the hallway like she was weighing what she’d say next. “May I ask why the interest? Most officers don’t follow up.”
"My parents want to adopt Dani's little sister, Izzy,” I said. “And ideally, we’d like to adopt both girls—keep them together.”
A beat of silence followed, her eyes assessing me briefly before she spoke.
"You saidwe, Mr. Callahan. Are you personally looking to adopt the girls?"
"No," I chuckled. "I come from a big family, and the decision to adopt the girls was made together."
“That’s... admirable,” she said. “But Dani isn’t ready.”
I leaned forward slightly. “Is she okay?”
“Follow me,” she said. “We can talk in private.”
I picked up the tote bag and followed her into her office.
The room was small, almost clinical—bare walls, no photos, nothing to soften the starkness.
