Damaged (23 page)

Mary knew all this, though she didn't interrupt Olivia. It was covered in the DHS Handbook on Foster Care she had read online last night.

“—and you need to undergo a medical exam yourself, a check for a criminal history, and child abuse clearances. You have to attend an orientation session and complete two full days of training sessions. Just because it's kinship care doesn't mean it's a lesser standard.”

“You're offering him a foster family with three other kids, in a lousy neighborhood. Can't you see that I can do better than that right now, at a critical time for him? Can't common sense prevail?”

Olivia bristled. “I
am
using common sense. We provide a safe, stable, and nurturing family experience when a child is in crisis. We can't be certain you provide that to him until you qualify.”

“Be real, Olivia. He just lost his grandfather, whom he adored, and you don't know this, but he was assaulted a few weeks ago at school. He's still suffering the effects of that, he's confused and scared, and he's changing schools at the same time. Plus in the next few weeks, criminal charges will be brought against the man who assaulted him and—”

“I don't need to be lectured to.” Olivia scowled. “This is what happens every time a lawyer gets involved. You're all alike. You throw your weight around and expect everybody to jump to your tune. You don't respect any rules at all.”

Mary masked her anger. “No, Olivia, what I expect is for you to use your brain and your heart to understand what that little boy is going through, and try to make his life easier, not harder.”

“It's not about the easy answer, it's about the
correct
answer. Any kinship home must be in full compliance with DHS foster requirements.”

“Let me just keep him until I go to court and make it all legal. It's the least disruptive for him.”

“Sorry, that's not our procedures and that's not going to happen.” Olivia stiffened. “If you need me to call the police, I'll do that.”

“No, don't.” Mary felt resigned. She had expected to lose today because she knew the law wasn't on her side, even though she was in the right. Justice didn't always matter as much as the law, which was ironic.

Suddenly, Patrick yelled from the living room, “I don't want to go to strangers! I don't want to go to strangers! I'm not going! I'm not going!”

Olivia glowered at Mary. “This is
your
fault. You encouraged him to resist our placement.”

“No I didn't, I swear. He's telling you what he honestly wants.”

“He doesn't get to call the tune, and neither do you.”

Mary took one last shot. “You're ignoring him in favor of your procedures. You're placing form over substance.”

“This conversation is
over
. We're going back in that living room and when we do, you'd better get on board. You'd better tell him that coming with me is the only choice.”

“Then it's not a choice.”

Olivia ignored the statement. “If you don't get with the program, I'm going to make you leave the premises. Don't think I don't have the authority to do that.”

“I'M NOT GOING!” Patrick hollered at the top of his lungs, his tone turning angrier. In the background, the TV blared the tank battle.

Olivia gritted her teeth. “Mary, you'd
better
tell him to come with me.”

“Fine, I will.” Mary resigned herself to the fact that she had lost the battle, but she knew she'd win the war. She followed Olivia out of the kitchen but when they reached the living room, they both froze, shocked.

Patrick was standing in front of the coffee table, tears filling his eyes.

And in his hand was a gun, aimed at them.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“I want to go with Mary!” Patrick hollered, over the blaring TV. A tear rolled down his cheek. His skinny body trembled, and the gun barrel wavered as he held it in a double-grip, arms outstretched.

“Patrick, please put the gun down,” Mary said quietly. She had to defuse the situation. She didn't think he would shoot. She didn't think he had it in him. She had no idea where he'd gotten the gun. She didn't know if it was loaded. It looked old and clunky, and she wondered if it was Edward's from the war.

“No, please!” Olivia screamed, putting her hands up. “Please, don't shoot! Oh my God!”

“I want to go with Mary!” Patrick's eyes spilled over, but he held on to the gun. “I'm not going to strangers!
I don't play ball!
”

“I know, honey.” Mary took a careful step toward him. “I understand. Please put the gun down.”

“Patrick, listen to her!” Olivia shrieked. Hands still up, she edged backwards toward the kitchen. “Put it down! Put it down this instant!”

Mary took another step toward him. “Honey, look on the coffee table. There's your Pops's wallet and watch. Pick them up, and put the gun down. You don't want to forget about the wallet and watch, do you?”

“I'm not going to strangers!” Patrick swung the gun in Olivia's direction. “I'M NOT GOING WITH YOU!”

“Help!” Olivia shrieked, then bolted into the kitchen.

“Honey, put the gun down.”

“I want
you.
” Patrick lowered the gun, then put it on the table, bursting into tears as he gathered up the wallet and watch. “I want my Pops…”

“I know, sweetheart.” Mary rushed forward and gave him a big hug as he collapsed into her arms, trying to speak while sobs wracked his small frame.

“I want my Pops back … I want my Pops back … I want to go with you … I want to go with you…”

“I understand, honey.” Mary scooped him up and sat with him on the couch, pulling him onto her lap, and Patrick cuddled up, burying his tear-stained face into her neck and clutching Edward's wallet and watch to his chest.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry … my Pops told me not to touch his gun … I don't want him to be mad … I wasn't going to shoot it … I don't know how…”

“It's okay, sweetie. I know you wouldn't have shot anybody.” Mary heard Olivia talking in the kitchen, but between the hoarse, choking sound of Patrick's sobs and the
rat-a-tat
of the tank battle on the TV, Mary couldn't make out what Olivia was saying.

“Don't let her take me … Don't let her take me…”

Mary rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. “Patrick, you have to go with her today, but it's just for the weekend, and after the weekend—”

“A
weekend
…”

“I have to go to court for you, and I can't do that until Monday.” Mary heard Olivia talking in the kitchen, and when the TV tank battle stopped and a History Channel commentator came on, she heard what Olivia was saying:

“—637 Moretone Street, please, hurry, he has a gun. Yes, a gun! Don't hang up, stay with me—”

Olivia was calling 911. Mary thought it was the worst possible thing for Patrick, who started crying harder, so she couldn't get up and go in the kitchen to stop Olivia. “Olivia! Olivia! You don't need to do that, we're fine now!”

“… I don't want to go with her … I want to go with you…”

Mary shouted again, “Olivia, call them off! We don't need any help! It's fine now! Come in and you'll see!”

“Noooo!” Patrick wailed, sobbing anew. “I don't want Olivia … I don't want Olivia … I don't want her…”

“Dispatch, don't hang up!” Olivia came barging into the room, still on the phone. She bolted for the coffee table, picked up the gun, and shoved it into her messenger bag, which she hoisted to her shoulder. “I have the gun! I have it, thank God! Yes, please hurry, please hurry!”

Mary felt Patrick cling tighter to her. “Olivia, call them off, please! Look, it's all over. It's fine. I have him.”

“… I don't want to go … I don't want … I don't want to go…”

“Mary, are you
kidding me right now
?” Olivia covered the phone with her hand, her lined eyes flaring with anger. “He had a gun! He tried to
kill
me! You saw it!”

“… I don't want to go … I don't want to go … I don't want to…”

“Olivia, we don't need 911. They're just going to upset him more—”

“He shoulda thought of that when he tried to kill me!” Olivia grabbed her purse, and in the next moment, there was the sound of approaching police sirens. “The cops will be here any minute! They come fast when there's a gun!”

“We don't need the cops—”

“You're as crazy as he is!” Olivia headed for the door.

“He wasn't going to shoot!”

“The hell he wasn't!” Olivia flew out of the door and slammed it behind her.

Patrick sobbed. “I just want to go with you … I just want to go with you.”

Mary had to prepare him. “Honey, you need to calm down. The police are going to come, and you should be calm. They're going to take you for the weekend—”

“I don't want to go, I don't want to go!” Patrick cried, becoming hysterical. “I want my Pops … I want my Pops…”

Mary heard car doors slamming outside in the street, a commotion out front, then boots running up the sidewalk. She cuddled Patrick, shielding him with her body as a group of uniformed officers burst through the door, drawing their weapons.

“Officers, don't shoot, it's fine!” Mary called out, as Patrick cried loudly. “Everything's fine! There's no gun! There's no danger!”

“We have to take the child,” one of the cops said, hurrying toward her as the others holstered their guns.

“Officer, there's no reason to do it by force. Let me calm him down, he just got upset—”

“Miss, the child has to come with me right now. He's in DHS custody.” The police officer reached out his arms to take Patrick, but Mary stood up.

“No, wait, I have him, I can just carry him outside myself.” Mary rose with the crying Patrick. “His luggage is upstairs, you could go get his luggage—”

“Miss, we have our orders. Give me the child.”

“Just let me get him out, and I can calm him down, it doesn't have to be this way—”

“Miss, please.” The officer wrenched Patrick from Mary's arms, and he started kicking and screaming.

“Mary! Mary! MARY!”

“Patrick, it's okay!” Mary called back to him, her heart responding to his cries, her arms suddenly empty. The police officer rushed to the door and hustled from the house with Patrick, followed by the other police officers.

Mary rushed to the door, but stopped there, stricken. It took every fiber of her being not to run after Patrick, but that would make it worse for him. She watched the awful scene from the doorway; the police loading Patrick kicking and screaming into one of the police cruisers, and Olivia was giving the gun to another uniformed police officer. The officers hustled around the front of the cruiser bearing Patrick, and Olivia left in a separate cruiser.

Mary stayed at the door until the police cruisers disappeared down the street, then realized that she heard her cell phone was ringing. It had to be Anthony. She looked wildly around, trying to remember where she had left her phone, but it was nowhere in sight. She raced into the kitchen, found it on the table, and grabbed it just as it stopped ringing.

“Anthony?” she said, breathless, but it was too late. The home screen showed a message from him, and she played the message: “Babe, sorry I missed you, I was out with my colleagues and I left my phone in the bar. I'm on the plane and I have to turn off my phone, but I'll see you tonight.”

“Damn!” Mary didn't know why he hadn't called her before he boarded. It drove her crazy that she couldn't talk to him, but she couldn't let it stop her. She had set a course in motion and she had to follow through. She had to get into the office, do more legal research, and prepare and file her emergency petition, so she could get a hearing.

She hurried from the kitchen, making one more phone call on the fly. Every woman had a best friend she could call to sort out her thoughts, and better yet, to hear that she wasn't crazy.

For Mary, that person was Judy.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“You're crazy!” Judy said, throwing up her hands. She was sitting opposite Mary's desk in a white T-shirt and gym shorts, her standard outfit for working on the weekends.

“You don't really think that.” Mary chewed the toasted bagel she'd grabbed on the way in. Sun spilled from the window behind her, filling her office with warm sunlight.

“But you're talking about a kid. You're effectively becoming a mother.”

“A
foster
mother. It's temporary.”

“How so? What's the plan?”

“Here's what I'm thinking. Patrick just went through hell, between the assault at school and Edward's passing. He has to deal with his grieving, while he's changing schools. I need to get him into Fairmount Prep and that's all set to go.”

“It's hard to change schools. I know, I had ten different schools growing up.”

“Right.” Mary remembered that Judy's father had been in the military. “Not only that, but he's at the center of litigation. The criminal prosecution for his assault is about to start, and the Complaint that Machiavelli's bringing will go forward.”

“You think Machiavelli will still sue, even though Edward died?”

“Of course. When he finds out that Edward died, he'll amend the Complaint to replace Edward with Edward's estate. Look, he sent me sixty pages of interrogatories for Edward and Patrick and he scheduled depositions for both of them.” Mary picked up a massive stack of documents that had been on her desk when she'd come in this morning, hand-delivered by Machiavelli yesterday.