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Authors: Judy Ann Davis

Tags: #Suspense, #Contemporary

Key to Love (11 page)

BOOK: Key to Love
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“Whatever you think best. Don’t let money get in your way.”

“Okay. You got it.” She closed her eyes. “If I fall asleep here, be sure I’m up by eight.”

Within minutes she was out cold. He sat there stroking her hair, enjoying the solitude of the quiet, empty house, and her soft breathing. He would have stayed there all night, but he also knew there’d be hell to pay in the morning if he didn’t set an alarm, and they overslept.

He stood, lowered the pillow with her sleeping head onto the couch and covered her with an afghan, then bent down and kissed her lightly on her forehead before turning off the lights and heading upstairs.

****

“I must say, Miss Springer, I was really surprised when I heard you wanted to speak with me. I thought Todd Fisher was in a very warm, loving home.”

Elise smoothed the wrinkles from her pale blue suit and studied Twila Pedmo as she sorted through some paperwork on her desk. A stocky woman in her early sixties, Twila Pedmo had the quick, earnest, and sober demeanor of an army drill sergeant. Her tight, curly, but thinning red hair, verging on shades of pink, came straight from the bottle.

Before Elise had left the house with Lucas hovering over her as if she was headed for the gallows, she had phoned Thomas. Mrs. Pedmo’s youngest son had graduated a grade before him. She learned he had become a prominent lawyer for some political faction in the D.C. area. If the mother and son were chipped from the same block of marble, Thomas told her, she’d better be ready for battle. With that piece of advice in mind, Elise had frantically phoned the hospital. Tough, her father had agreed, with a skin as thick as a black walnut, but fair. The woman was devoted to the kids in her care.

“I have no doubt the Johnsons are very capable foster parents,” Elise said, “but the boy is young and is still grieving for his father. He needs to be united with his uncle. With family. He needs a place to run and play. The Johnsons aren’t physically able to be chasing an energetic child. My dad has taken a real shine to the child. He has had him at the farm. Todd loves the outdoors, and he’s especially fond of Dad’s Dalmatian.”

“Anton? How is he? I heard he had an unfortunate accident.”

“He’s doing well. He sends his regards. We’re hoping he’ll be out of the hospital next week.”

Mrs. Pedmo crossed her hands on her desk. “You have to understand, there are other ramifications here. The Johnsons are not wealthy people. What little they get from foster care helps to supplement their Social Security.”

Elise had thought about that the other night as she played out the entire scenario with Pedmo a thousand times in her mind. “I know, and since they’re such a generous, loving couple, I’m sure you’ll be able to find them another suitable child soon. We’re prepared to continue to reimburse them until you can get another child for them. We’d be most happy to have Mrs. Johnson come over and babysit as well.”

“It’s certainly generous of you, but you must also know it’s a huge undertaking being responsible for a child.”

“I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary.” Elise smiled with what she hoped looked like a genuine smile despite the worried feelings jabbing at her.

Mrs. Pedro pursed her lips and looked her squarely in the eyes. “So tell me, what part will Lucas Fisher play in all this?” she asked bluntly.

“Play?” Elise repeated, thinking the woman had missed her true calling. She should have been a police detective. Interrogation was mere child’s play for Twila Pedro. However, it was as natural as breathing to Elise. She could spar with the best of them. Architects, like artists and writers, were adept at defending and exalting their creations.

“Yes, I can’t believe he’s hanging around Scranton for any other reason than the child,” Pedmo admitted.

“I don’t disagree.” Elise saw something flicker in the woman’s eyes. “Lucas is hoping to eventually get custody of Todd. For now he wants the child not only in a home in which he feels comfortable, but also as close to him as possible until he can have his own house ready for occupancy. He’ll petition the court for custody if a will isn’t found soon.”

“I gather he has since obtained a home here in the area?”

“Of course. He’s renovating his grandmother’s cottage.”

This time Mrs. Pedmo made no effort to hide her surprise. Her eyebrows, penciled red to match her hair, lifted. “I’m sure you also know there are all types of rumors flying around the area about Lucas Fisher.”

Elise settled back in her chair. “Not any I’m aware of.”

“You should know, my dear, according to word around town, seventy-five thousand dollars was transferred into an account in Atlanta for Lucas Fisher before his brother died. Now, I’m not making accusations, and I’m sure the police will investigate and straighten it out, but it does seem rather bizarre, don’t you think? Especially when a hundred thousand dollars of undercover money was never recovered after Mike’s death?”

Elise gripped her handbag and struggled to steady her hands. She felt her body go numb. Why hadn’t Lucas mentioned this to her? Surely he knew about the rumors. He had told her money was not a problem. He had more than sufficient funds. She wondered whether Thomas and Fritz were aware of this little glitch in his life.

“No, I don’t. To be frank, Lucas Fisher’s finances are none of my business. You would be entrusting the child to my father and me, not to Lucas.” Her mind whirling, she forced herself not to panic. Instinctively, she changed tactics, going on the offensive. “Would you like to talk about my finances? Or my father’s? I’d be willing to supply all necessary documents you might need.”

Mrs. Pedmo waved a hand. “No, no, of course not.”

“Then please tell me, what other complications stand in our way?”

“The stepmother for one. I’m sure you’re aware she is claiming she has a close bond with the child.”

Elise scoffed. “I’m sure even the courts would question Clarisse’s relationship and her motives.”

“She moved here, I’m told.”

This time Elise waited a moment, then spoke carefully. “It’s a free country, Mrs. Pedmo. She can do as she pleases. Just tell me what
I
need to do.”

“You’ll have to have an acceptable room for the child, agree to an inspection of your home, have the proper paperwork in order, and get approval before a transfer can be made. Oh, you’ll need a criminal background check and a 151 Form, but I suppose in your work you have those documents. I have Anton’s criminal background check and his 151 child abuse history clearance already on file.”

“I do.” Elise pulled out a note pad from her purse. “How long will this paperwork take?”

“Only the time to fill out the office forms.” Mrs. Pedmo handed her a packet over the desk.

“Do you have a number where I can fax this back? Or can I scan it through the computer and send it to your e-mail?”

“Either way is fine.” Mrs. Pedmo’s pink hair bobbed as she cracked a thin smile. “I personally do the home inspections, so we can set it up for any day. However, the paperwork usually takes a few weeks after it’s submitted for approval.”

“Not good enough.” Elise shook her head, lips pursed. “Can we get it by the end of this week if I fill out the papers today?”

“Oh, heavens, no. The system doesn’t work that fast.”

Elise leaned forward. “Mrs. Pedmo,” she said in a sweet, low whisper, “you and I both know we don’t need the Governor to approve something like this. Give me a name or names, and I’ll personally get the signatures.”

The hackles all but rose on Twila Pedmo’s neck as she shot Elise a hostile glare. “Ms. Springer, I resent—”

“—intervention and opposition, I assume,” Elise finished and reached in her purse for her phone. She held it out in front of her, punched in a ten-digit number and positioned her thumb over the send key. “Now I get a name of someone who’ll push this through, or I call Senator Billings. State legislators love little dilemmas like these to solve for their constituency. It makes for good press when campaign time rolls around. Poor orphaned child, police officer father dead, unable to be relocated with the people he’s most fond of—his family. A child who’s crying himself to sleep at night. Local foster agency unwilling to cooperate, stalling the paperwork. You know, all the heart-wrenching stuff the public loves to hear?”

The color drained from Mrs. Pedmo’s face. “Heart-wrenching stuff? You’re a bold, tenacious one, aren’t you, Miss Springer? You must really want this child.”

“You’re pretty tough yourself,” Elise admitted.

“Oh, all right,” Mrs. Pedmo conceded. “If you give me the papers today, I’ll try to have them signed before Friday. It’s the very best I can do!” She stood, obviously a signal she was ending the meeting.

Elise sprang from her chair, almost dropping her phone. She extended her hand across the desk and pumped the woman’s enthusiastically. “Thank you, Mrs. Pedmo, thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate your help.”

“Tell me, Ms. Springer, would you really have placed the call?”

Elise laughed. “Unfortunately, not that particular one. I would have had to call directory assistance and locate the right number first.”

The woman’s face held a conspiratorial smile. “You are certainly a credit to Anton Springer, my dear.” She picked up a file from her desk and gestured to the waiting room. “You’re welcome to stay, fill out this packet of paperwork, and leave it on my clerical assistant’s desk.”

Elise followed her to the outer office where she dropped Todd Fisher’s private folder into a wire file basket on the corner of Linda Cook’s vacant desk before returning to her office.

Elise surveyed the room. Linda Cook was nowhere in sight. She was either in the restroom or getting some coffee in the office lunchroom. As soon as she heard Pedmo’s office door shut, Elise slid into a seat, snatched the folder from the basket, and began to riffle through it. Amid the report of services and contacts with the foster parents, she found an entry of Pedmo’s in-home visit. In the margin, a notation read, “Child likes dogs, the color blue and French fries. Not fond of green vegetables, but loves animal crackers.” Elise smiled at the flowery script. So Pedmo wasn’t the hard case she appeared to be.

Continuing her search, she also discovered the initial intake evaluation by Jack Morrison. It merely recommended Todd to be returned to New Castle for the child’s best interests. Beneath the evaluation, there was a single sheet of paper with Clarisse Fisher’s name, address and phone number on it. Elise stared at it a moment, wondering whether Clarisse had made contact with Child Welfare or if they had located her. From her purse, she pulled out her notepad again and quickly jotted down the information including Clarisse’s most recent place of employment, Two Horses, a local bar.

She was about to return the folder when a niggling thought crossed her mind. She removed Clarisse’s address and compared the handwriting against Twila Pedmo’s and Jack Morrison’s. It was Jack’s writing, there was no doubt.

Footsteps in the hall forced her to slam the folder shut. She had no sooner tucked it beneath her packet of papers when Morrison sauntered down the hall with a bottle of water in his hand.

“Lizzie, I’m glad I caught you. I was meaning to call. How about Saturday night?”

“Saturday night?” She peered up at him. This time he was wearing a brown jacket with a blinding gold tie accented in what appeared to be tiny lime green palm trees.

“Yeah, I thought we’d get something to eat and catch up on old times.”

Her mind ticked. “I heard there’s a place called Wild Horses.”

He frowned. “You mean Two Horses? Yeah, it’s a new country and western joint. Pretty rowdy. Food’s bad, unless you’re into burgers and noise. I thought we’d go someplace with some atmosphere and class.”

She gave him her best little girl pout. “Ah, Jack, I can get enough class in San Francisco. Why don’t we catch a nice dinner some place and go to Two Horses afterwards? I’d love doing something different.”

Relenting, he said, “Oh, all right, but it’s a real dive. I’ll make sure we at least stop there so you can see it. Is seven o’clock, okay?”

“Seven o’clock is fine.” She glanced down at her papers. “What do you know about Todd’s stepmother?”

“Clarisse?”

She thought she heard a slight hitch in his voice. “Yes, but I don’t recall her maiden name,” she lied.

“Cramer, but she uses Fisher,” he filled in. “Nothing. I guess she was interested in custody of Todd Fisher, from what Twila Pedmo tells me.”

“Now why would she think she could have custody, Jack?”

He shrugged and fidgeted with some change in his pocket. It was plain to see he was uncomfortable discussing Clarisse, even though he made a valiant effort to conceal it. “I suppose she would have had some type of rapport with the child, having lived with him over a year.”

He started to say more, but Linda Cook strolled in, a cup of coffee in her hand.

Elise clutched her papers fanned over Todd Fisher’s folder. She expected to see hostility in the secretary’s face, but instead Linda Cook greeted her with a smile and sat down.

“I see you got the papers you need,” Linda said.

Elise nodded. “Yes, thank you. It looks like your agency invests heavily in Hammermill.”

The woman laughed. “The government does, you mean.”

Jack Morrison glanced briefly at Elise and smiled. “I’ll let you finish up here.” He headed down the hallway toward his office.

BOOK: Key to Love
11.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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