Page 33 of Whispers of Redemption

“I was put in foster care when I was very young,” she said suddenly, putting her coffee cup down on the table. “My first experience with cops was when they pulled me out of my mother’s arms.” She looked off into the distance, her body rigid, hands tightly clenched together on the table in front of her. “If I let myself, I can still hear her sobbing and begging them not to take me.”

Wade leaned forward, eyes intent on her face. “That must have been pretty traumatic,” he said. “Why did they take you away from her?”

Cassie was quiet. She started fiddling with the crumpled ball of white tissue from her scone. “She was...is...a drug addict.” She said it so softly that Wade could barely hear her.

He was quiet for a few minutes, then said, “You know they were only doing their job to protect you, right? They removed you for your own safety.”

Cassie looked up at him, her green eyes sparking with anger. “Maybe,” she said. “But the homes I got placed in weren’t much better. And my experiences with cops when I was in foster care didn’t do anything to raise my opinion of them.”

He didn’t say anything. And she continued. It seemed now that she’d started, she wanted him to know it all—all the havoc his brothers in blue had wreaked in her life.

“Throughout my time in the system, I moved through well over a dozen different placements, including a string of foster families and a couple of group homes,” she said. “I admit I wasn’t the best kid. I acted out a lot. I had a lot of anger. But I wasn’t a criminal...technically,” she added.

Wade lifted a brow but still said nothing.

She went on. “When I was in the group homes, calling the cops was the staffers’ go-to method for controlling us. They called them for anything; if we acted out, fought with each other, had temper tantrums, you name it. The cops would show up, and they never listened to us. No matter what, they always took the staffers’ sides. And I hated them for that. They’d make us sit on our beds while they lectured and intimidated us, controlled us.”

She looked up, her eyes were hot with the suppressed tears at the memory. “All I wanted was for someone to listen to me, to...love me.” What was wrong with her? Why was she opening up to him like this? She was breaking her own rule: never, ever show vulnerability.

Wade started to reach a hand across the table toward her, but then stopped himself and pulled it back. “I’m sorry,” he said simply. “What you experienced was wrong. But I’m not denying it happens. I experienced it myself when I worked in Grand Rapids. But I agree, using law enforcement to correct a child’s behavior that way is a fundamentally bad idea.”

They sat in silence for a few moments while Cassie regained her composure. She’d been ready to fight with him, expecting him to deny that what she’d experienced could happen. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d...listened. Validated her feelings, even sympathized. She felt strange, uncertain how to respond to this show of emotion and obvious sympathy.

“It seems like you’ve beaten the odds of many who come out of the foster system, though,” he said finally, sitting back. “I mean, you have a good job, and you’re going to school. That’s impressive.”

She took a deep breath, and the tight grip of her clasped hands loosened. “That’s because when I was sixteen, I was taken in by Mark and Rachel Wainwright. They actually cared about me, put in the time and effort to help me when no one else would. They didn’t just call the cops when I lost my temper but gave me love and support. And that changed everything for me. I went from a road to self-destruction and failing high school to graduating early. I got out of street ra—uh, making bad choices.” Wade appeared to suppress a smile but said nothing, and she continued. “After I graduated, I floundered a bit. I didn’t think college was for me and I worked a few odd jobs. But then I got the job working for PCS. And it was Mark and Rachel who eventually encouraged me to take classes at the community college. Even though I still have no idea what sort of degree I want,” she added with a shake of her head.

“They sound like pretty amazing people,” Wade said, his gaze so intent that she had to look away. “I think it’s great that you’re taking classes, and I’m sure you’ll eventually figure out where your true passion lies.”

“How did you decide to become a cop?” she asked, wanting to divert attention away from herself, but also because she was curious.

He looked down at his hands forming a circle around his empty coffee cup.

“Well, I told you about taking care of my brothers when we were growing up,” he glanced up, and she nodded, thinking about what J.P. had told her and Ani about Wade’s childhood. “I guess as the oldest, I was just always the responsible one. My brothers relied on me for that. And, honestly, I liked knowing I was keeping them safe and taking good care of them. When I grew up, a career in law enforcement seemed like a natural fit.”

“It also goes really well with your love of rules,” she teased. He smiled back at her in a way that caused something deep inside her to melt a little.

“It’s more than that, though,” he said. “I like helping people. And I wanted a career where I could make a difference.”

She suppressed a snort because she saw the earnestness in his face. He really meant what he was saying. A cop who actually cared. Interesting. She tossed her balled up pastry wrapper into her empty coffee cup. “Well, this has been nice, but I need to go,” she said, starting to rise. “I have an early route tomorrow for work.”

“Oh, of course,” he said, gathering his own things. “Maybe...we could do this again sometime?” He actually sounded shy again. Big, brawny, shy cop.

“Hmmm...I dunno,” she said as they walked out the door toward their respective cars. “I mean, hanging out with a cop? I have my reputation to consider.”

He laughed. “How about next time I go undercover as a regular person?”

“That depends on how convincing you are,” she said lightly. Hopping into her car, she spit gravel as she peeled out of the parking lot.

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