Page 12 of Delivering David

“Well, Miz Bennett,” Kristopher drawled. “We won’t know if there’s anyone there unless we go look. But if we find someone, what do we do? Watch or ask questions?”

“Ask questions,” Miz Bennett decided. “What could it hurt?

“And what if we make Sergeant Millerreallymad?” Kristopher wanted to respect his former colleague, but he had a feeling that Suzanne Bennett would have her own way, no matter what.

“Easier to ask forgiveness than get permission,” she declared. “Let’s go see.”

CHAPTER 10

He followedher directions and drove into another well-maintained neighborhood. Most of the houses lining the street were still decorated for the holidays with inflated Santa’s, reindeer and Grinches in the yard, with colored lights wrapped under and over the roofs and ribbon wrapped wreaths hanging from the windows and doors.

“Everything looks so festive,” Suzanne commented. “Such a contrast to what’s happened in the past twenty-four hours.”

“Sure is,” Kristopher’s voice was soft, and she wondered if he, like she, was thinking about their kiss.Stupid, girl. Really stupid.“Turn right,” she directed, pointing at a stop sign.

“Got it.” Kristopher continued their drive until he reached a gate with a set of open double doors. An arrowed sign led them to a parking area overlooking the skatepark and he eased the car into a lined space. A flight of steps led down to the area and from the car they could see a tall, lone figure navigating the ramps with terrifying speed and skill. Kristopher switched off the car and they sat watching the boarder. After several moments of silence, he asked, “Now what?”

“Is that a boy?” she pointed at the figure. “It’s hard to tell in that slouchy beanie and baggie clothes all the kids wear these days.”

Kristopher rested his arms on the steering wheel and watched the boarder execute moves that would make Tom Schaar and Tony Hawk proud. “It’s a guy,” he affirmed after a minute. “I mean, look at those shoulders. Do you think you know him?”

“You have good eyes. And I think I recognize him because of his hat.” Suzanne pointed at the rainbow-hued beanie. “He’s a foster care kid who lives down the street from Mercy and if I’m not mistaken, his name is T.J. Fielding. David loves to watch him practice, says he’s ‘a wicked boarder’ that practices here all the time, and always wears that beanie. I’m guessing that might be him.”

“Is T.J. one of Mercy’s kids?” Kristopher continued to watch in awe as the kid launched himself into the air, flipped and landed with effortless agility. He was very good.

“No, but I met him–if it’s him–at the annual neighborhood ‘Meet, Greet and Eat’ gathering the day after Thanksgiving. He’s fifteen years old and he’s kind of a loner, but David worships him.”

“‘Meet, Greet and Eat?’” Kristopher repeated. “What’s that? A get-together where people bring leftovers from Turkey Day?”

Her soft laughter warmed him. “Exactly,” she said. “There’s another park nearby with covered areas and picnic tables. People in the neighborhood gather, and not only share their leftover food but play croquet and volleyball or bring musical instruments and organize games for the children. Mercy said T.J. was placed with a new family a few months ago and the placement seemed to be working, but he was also moved a lot, or he ran.”

“Guess his worker isn’t as good as Mercy, huh.”

“No one was.” Tears sparkled in Suzanne’s eyes again and Kristopher wondered if she’d had time–or allowed herself–time to have a good, hard cry since Mercy was killed. It wasn’t even twenty-four hours yet.

“Well, then let’s go see if this our T.J.” Kristopher suggested. “Then we’ll know what to do.”

CHAPTER 11

“I wonderwhere all the other kids are,” Kristopher voiced his curiosity as they exited the car and headed for the stairs. “One would expect the park would be full, with everyone trying out their new boards and shoes two days after Christmas. Or even if they just come hang out.”

“Maybe their parents are making them stay inside because of Mercy,” Suzanne suggested. “News like that probably has them barricading their doors, refusing to let their kids go anywhere without them.”

“And having your parents glued to your side would be the very worst thing for a fifteen-year-old,” Kristopher recalled.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, keeping her gaze on the boy. “I went into foster care for the first time when I was eight years old.”

Her statement stopped him, and he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her to face him. “You grew up in foster care?”

“More or less,” she said. “Lots of moving around but I’ll tell you about that over lunch, okay?”

“Sure,” he said quickly. “Didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay, Kristopher with a K.” Her tone teased him, but her eyes said otherwise. “Here’s the short version. My grandparents on both sides tried to take care of me, but they all had serious health problems, so I wound up in foster care. I was moved so often I kept half of my clothing in my suitcase.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “Tell me to shut up if I get too personal. After all, we did just meet a few hours ago.”

“So, we did.” The teasing lilt returned to her voice.

---