Page 115 of Marvelous
And the moment he was in the seat, I said, “Seatbelt.”
After he had it clicked, I handed him the bag.
A small smile graced his face as he took it.
I closed the door, rounded the SUV, and climbed in.
I started it when I heard something move in the bag, then, tentatively, I heard, “Ms. Cassie?”
I looked over my shoulder at him and smiled, “Yeah, Mr. Krispin.”
He giggled softly.
“Can I eat this?” he asked as he held up one of the candy bars.
At my wink and nod, he opened it.
And as I stared at him in my rear-view mirror, taking in his dark hair, hazel eyes, little nose, and that small grin, I decided.
Then I further decided, as he asked, “Do you want a piece?”
I smiled, “Thank you, honey, but how about you eat it for me, and keep it safe in your belly.”
He giggled at that.
He told me where to turn, and I did.
And the moment I reached the outskirts of town, to a broken-down home, I had to bite back a growl.
I didn’t hesitate in what I did next.
Nor did I hesitate when I saw a man standing on the porch, in tighty-whities, scratching his junk with a bottle of Jim Beam in his other hand.
I pulled out my phone and called Misty.
She answered on the third ring.
“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”
I growled, “No. It. Isn’t. Who’s the social worker for the town?”
When she gave me a name, I hung up on her.
I would apologize later.
Then I googled the name, found the number, and pressed dial.
It rang and rang and rang until finally a woman who sounded harried answered the phone, “This is Leslie, how can I help you?”
“Who in their right mind would allow a child to be fostered in a broken-down home with a drunk?” I snapped.
“Um, excuse me.” She said.
“You heard me. I just picked up a little boy whose clothes don’t fit him, he’s dirty, bruised, there are holes in his shoes, and he was hungry, so he tried to steal from Hanovers.”
The woman sighed, “I know. Okay. I know. But we don’t have that many fosters, and Krispin is a special case.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
