“Yeah.”
“Two days?” He shook his head. “Three?” This time he nodded.
“Where have you been sleeping?”
“The woods.”
There were lots of hiding places in those woods. That was why no one had found him, although she couldn’t be sure they’d reported him missing. “Don’t you think your foster parents are worried about you and trying to find you?”
He shook his head decisively, looking much older than his true age. “No. They just want the money. Neither of ’em likes me.Healways calls me a little shit and says I’m not worth the trouble I cause. When he’s not drunk. When he’s drunk he—” He broke off and shrugged.
Jedidiah sent him a grim look. Trevor believed him. Clearly so did Jedidiah. After all, he’d seen worse.
“What happens when he’s drunk, Ricky?” Trevor asked.
He turned his back to them and raised his T-shirt. Jedidiah gasped. Having suspected what was coming, Trevor wasn’t surprised to see a mass of welts and bruises on the boy’s back. Bruises ranging in color from purple through yellow. Some of the welts looked like they’d been there for some time. Surprised, no. Sickened, yes.
“Your foster mother doesn’t try to stop him?” Jedidiah asked.
“She’s too scared. He beats her up too.”
“You’re not going back to them,” Trevor said grimly. He was going to make damn sure of that. “But we have to tell child protective services so they’ll know you can’t go back there.”
Ricky dropped his shirt and turned around. “He said they won’t care. He said he could do whatever he wants because I’m just garbage. No one cares, he said.”
“He was wrong,” Jedidiah told him. “Trevor and I care. We won’t let you be sent back to those people.” She looked at Trevor and added, “Will we?”
“No. Not a chance. I have some contacts with CPS.” The police too, although he wouldn’t mention that yet. As it was Ricky was a step away from bolting. “Once we let them know what’s been going on they’ll take care of things.”
“He said he’d kill me if I told.”
“I won’t let him hurt you again, Ricky. I promise.”
