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Three

Rose always found it remarkable that considering there were only about half a million people in the commercial city limits and twice that in all of King County, it seemed like there were, to paraphrase an old TV show, eight million hard-luck stories in the Emerald City. More per capita, anyway, than seemed possible from the population. Naturally, she knew that there were plenty of comparatively sane, conscientious and caring people in the city. There was always some group from Seattle going to build Peace Parks or help with relief to some embattled third-world country. Seattleites marched the streets in force against war and injustice, and a few of the wealthy descendants of pioneers actually put their money where their mouths were to improve the city both environmentally and culturally. The few shelters and soup kitchens remaining could not have stayed open except for the volunteers, caring people all.

Unfortunately, with her increased caseload and the longer hours she was working these days, Rose was usually too tired by the time she got off work to see any of her "civilian" friends, except for Linden.

Every morning she got up by six-thirty to dress, drive to the ferry terminal and make the hour-long ferry commute cross-Sound from Bremerton to Seattle. Then she usually worked a ten-to twelve-hour day before making the same trip in reverse. Day in and day out she listened to tales of murder, drug traffic, child molesting, battery and rape, not to mention the simple economic tragedies that cast people onto the streets.

Most of the time all she could do was listen and fill out endless reams of paperwork, or coach the clients to fill out endless reams of paperwork. Usually both. She used to be able to help people make the system work for them, but these days the system was getting its revenge, drowning everyone in fruitless paperwork.

Dialogues at work were sounding more and more like scripts from a black comedy.

"A foster home is not an appropriate placement at this time, Rose," Mrs. Hager said, handing back the stack of paperwork Rose had spent hours filling out. "Not when the child's father has become available to care for her."

"But the father's only available because he's out on parole for child abuse and molesting her older sister!" Rose protested.

"And you must remember that he is on parole," the supervisor told her. "Society considers that he is no longer a risk."

"You mean the sister moved to another state with no for-warding address so she can't protest the parole," Rose said, firmly damping down the desire to scream at the woman.

"Now, Rose, you don't know that," Hager said.

Rose wanted to shout, well, you would, you stupid cow, if you knew beans about your job, but she knew it would cost her her own job. Mrs. Melvin Hager was not one to tolerate even gentle criticism of her actions and zealously guarded her prerogatives at all times. Rose and her colleagues were not sure where Mrs. Hager had gotten her degree in psychiatric social work; the most popular supposition was that she had mail-ordered it from the Sears catalog back in the days when there still was a Sears catalog, but Rose was inclined to side with those who held that someone who dressed like Hager wouldn't have been caught dead shopping at Sears, even by mail, and the degree had to have come from Bloomingdale's at least.

Rose would have risked her job, if she thought it would do any good, but if she did, then Hager and the newly appointed division chief would just hire someone as wildly unqualified as Hager to take over. Then where would clients like little Polly Reynaud be? In the same place, actually, but without anybody watching over the situation who gave a damn or who would believe Polly when she tried to tell them about the games Daddy liked to play.

"How about if Polly stays with these people until the father is established in a counseling program here?" Rose asked. "Polly's been with these people for three years now, and she thinks of them as her parents. It would be traumatic to . . ."

"Just my point, Rose," Mrs. Hager said. "The child has begun to bond with others than her own family. All the more reason why she should be reunited with her father as soon as possible. Remember what the governor promised the people. This is a state agency which provides family services. We are responsible to and for the family and should at all times give the sanctity and sovereignty of the family unit the highest priority."

"Even when the family is a piranha like Reynaud?" Rose asked.

Mrs. Hager smiled a tight little smile. "It will all work itself out, Rose. Polly is herself a Reynaud, after all."

Rose didn't even ask what that was supposed to mean, but she was pretty sure it meant that if Reynaud was a daddy piranha, then Polly was a baby piranha and would learn to take care of herself. That was the way La Hager's mind worked. Rose picked up her report and left Hager's office, managing to close the door quietly instead of running screaming, tearing her hair and rending her clothing and engaging in other such elaborately inappropriate behavior, which might convey the wrong impression. Or not.

By then it was time for the department to close, though Rose still had a long night ahead of her, on call. Since she lived 'cross Sound in Bremerton, she had to stay the night on a cot set up in one of the interview rooms so she'd be available.

Her desk was covered with little yellow Post-its of calls received needing to be answered. She glanced through them, thinking that returning a few quick phone calls would make the time pass more quickly.

Of the business calls, none could be dealt with until Monday, but there was one personal message, and Rose picked up the slip with pleasure. "Call Lucinda Ellis," it said. "Lucky Shoe Stables, 547-8456." She dialed the phone quickly, before it could ring bringing another problem. It rang several times before a somewhat breathless voice on the other end said, "Lucky Shoe Stables, Lucinda here."

"Cindy? It's Rose."

"Oh, Rose! Good to hear from you. How's it going?"

"Busy but okay. How about with you? Are you enjoying the new job?"

"I'd enjoy anything that got me away from the bosoms of my loving family," Cindy said. "I'm house-sitting for a woman the owner of the stable knows, watching her cat and dog, and I'm teaching classes as well as exercising the horses. It doesn't pay much, but it keeps me alive since Paola threw me out of the house while she was contesting Dad's will. She keeps calling up, talking to the owner and trying to get me fired. Fortunately, the owner has a lot of horse sense, which is more than you can say for Paola."

"I thought surely she'd leave you alone once she took possession of the house your father left her."

"In my dreams. No, even though her lawyers got her and Pam and Perdita all of Dad's estate except the trust fund he set up for me, she's out to get that too and has it frozen while she's fighting it and meanwhile is making all the trouble for me she can."

"Oh, Cindy! That miserable bitch!"

"That's not the half of it. Wait till you hear the grounds she's using to contest the will . . ." They talked for several more minutes and finally Cindy ended with, "So what I wanted really, Rose, was to invite you up for a ride while I've still got the job."

"I'm not a very good rider."

"It's okay. We board some lovely thoroughbreds, and I'm teaching their owners to jump, but a lot of our business is just saddling up quarter horses with western tack for people who want to mosey around the park. Please say you'll come. I want to do something for you to thank you for all your help in getting away from Paola and company."

"Cindy, that is so sweet. And I'd love to come. I haven't been riding in a long time. Give me directions again."

 

* * *

 

The mall security guard had been really mad at Gigi for stealing the cookies, though when Hank tried to return the handful of cookie crumbs, slightly moist from being clutched in Gigi's hand, the man didn't seem to want them. He just wanted to yell.

"Is he going to put us in jail?" Gigi asked Hank in a whisper, not scared, just morbidly interested.

The man had taken them, Hank by his right hand, Gigi by her left, and hauled them back into the secret offices in the mall, where there was nothing pretty to look at and only metal furniture, and sat them down in chairs.

"Now then, what are your names?" he asked Hank, and Hank told him, even though he was afraid.

"You, young man, you're old enough to have memorized your address and phone number."

But Hank just shook his head. Aunt Bambi wouldn't let anyone use her phone but her, and no one had ever told Hank what the number was.

He told the man they lived in an apartment with his mother and his aunt and that Mama had left them at the mall.

"Well, then," the man said, and made a phone call. Some time later a policeman arrived. He wore a brown uniform and a windbreaker and had a clipboard and something stuffed under his arm.

"Now you're in for it," Hank hissed to his sister. "That cop's going to get us 'cause you stole the cookie."

"These're the culprits," the security guard said. "Cookie thieves."

"Cookie thieves?" the cop asked. Then, hunkering down in front of Hank and Gigi, he asked in a whisper, "How are the cookies here? Any good?"

Gigi stuck her thumb in her mouth, the way she did more and more often anymore, but Hank shrugged and said, "They're okay."

"Did you get enough? You still hungry?"

Hank nodded.

"Boy, me too. I missed my dinner. You kids want to come have a Big Mac and fries with me? My treat."

But when he stood up and reached for their hands, Gigi began to scream. Hank realized she knew that the cop was just saying he was going to take them for a Big Mac to get them to come to jail without a fight. He crossed his arms and glared at the cop to let him know he wasn't going to be fooled that easily.

The cop hunkered down again with an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes at the security man. Then, from under his arm, he drew out something furry and looked at it as if it had come there all by itself. It was a teddy bear dressed in a policeman's uniform. Talking to the bear just like Hank used to talk to GI Joe and Gigi talked to her own stuffed kitty, left behind in Forks, the cop said, "Officer Bear, I think you'd better take over this investigation. See, the thing is, these kids have lost their mama and they're tired and hungry but they're kinda scared of me. Do you think you could tell them I'm okay?"

He waggled the bear up and down and turned it to face them. "Hiya, kids. I'm Officer Bear but you can call me Fuzz."

Gigi scooted forward a little bit, the tears stopping, though the thumb didn't come out of her mouth.

Hank looked at the cop. "I know it's really you talking," he said.

The cop winked at him but Officer Bear wagged into his face. "What's your name?"

"Hank. This is my sister Gigi. She's four."

"What grade're you in, Hank?"

"First."

"Do you like it?"

Hank nodded. "Most of the time."

"Me too. Most of the time school's cool. I had to go to police academy before I joined the force, of course, and that was lots of fun but what I really want is a real boy or girl of my own to go to preschool and kindygarden with, to color and count and learn the ABCs."

With this the cop turned Fuzz to Gigi and pushed the bear up against her arm. At first she drew back, but when the bear snuggled her arm, the thumb popped out of her mouth and she grabbed the bear with both arms.

The cop winked at Hank again. "I lose more good partners that way."

"Will you really take us for a hamburger and not put us in jail?" Hank asked.

"I'm just going to try to help you, son. Cops do lots more than put people in jail, you know. Ever see Rescue 911?"

Hank shook his head and the cop muttered, "Well, that blows that approach," under his breath.

"You got a gun?" Hank asked.

"Yeah, and handcuffs too. Wanna see them?"

"Can I?" Hank asked, and the cop—his name was Officer Fred—showed him the cuffs and even let him carry them when he and Gigi and the bear went to McDonald's. They had Big Deal Meals that came with free dinosaurs, and meanwhile they talked with Officer Fred about the mall. He had a little nephew, he said, and he wondered if this was a good mall to come to to buy him a present. He wondered if their folks brought them here real often and if it was near their house.

Hank told him that it wasn't, that their real home was by the ocean but they couldn't live there anymore because Daddy'd lost his job.

"Gee, that's tough," Officer Fred said. "What job did he have?"

Then he wanted to know about Mama and finally asked which store Mama had gone into when she disappeared. Hank showed him and Officer Fred spoke to the saleslady for a minute, then asked Gigi and Hank if they wanted to ride in the squad car and help him make a call on his police radio phone.

As they drove farther along on the freeway, there was a traffic jam and as it ended; Officer Fred showed them how the lights worked. Then he used the phone again and at last turned in to a parking space in front of a building with a green awning over the front and a sign that read AURORA CENTER. Two windows on the second floor were lit.

 

* * *

 

"Department of Family Services, Rose Samson speaking." Rose answered the phone with mingled dread and relief. Dread because you never knew what catastrophe might be on the other end, and relief because almost anything would be better than the boredom of staying in the office all night waiting for something to happen.

"Rosie! Hi. It's Fred Moran, remember me?"

Rose grinned into the phone, she was so pleased to hear hear the familiar name. "Fred! How've you been? Haven't seen you in a long time." Fred Moran had been the security officer at the department during the six years he was studying criminology, justice, psychology, sociology and urban anthropology at the university so he could be the best-prepared cop on the force. He came from a long line of Irish police, including his mother, but as a security guard at least, he had had nothing of the cynical macho bully often associated with a badge. Even with privately hired guards, some clinics were stuck with the stereotypical "cop" behavior around damaged, sometimes rebellious, sometimes hostile clients who had been or felt they had been shafted by the system. The guard Aurora had had before was one of that kind, and had to quit when one of the clients put him in the hospital with a broken neck.

Rose had been doing interviews with new clients when Benny Jackson, who had a drinking problem and an attitude, came in. Before he had been there a minute, he started swearing that he wasn't about to wait in line again.

One of the other counselors—there had been an office full back then—shrugged and grimaced in response to Benny's griping. And Rose had braced herself inwardly for an explosion when she saw the new guard approach Benny.

But instead of challenging the man, Fred had asked in an amiable way, "You running into some kinda problem here?"

And Benny had growled something and Fred said, "Well, let me see if I can give you a hand. Computers have been acting up today and things have been going sort of slow but . . ." And he continued to sort out Benny's problem in a way that was not just polite, but seemed as if he gave a damn.

He was like that with all the clients. "I really hate it that our security guard isn't on the state payroll," her boss back then said. "That guy goes above and beyond the call of duty all the time—he does case management and he gets minimum wage with no paid vacation or sick leave."

Friendly and personable as he was, Fred had listened more than he talked, and Rose hadn't realized he was leaving them until he'd showed up one day in his Sheriff's Department uniform and announced he had graduated from school and was ready for the streets.

This call was the first she'd heard from him since.

"Oh, you know how it is with us King County cops. We migrate all over the place for a while, learning the territory. I've been working the north end lately so I haven't been down your way much, but I'll be working out of the courthouse starting this weekend so I'll probably get to drop by once in a while."

"We'd love to see you," she said.

"Great. You'll have to show me all the good new places to have lunch downtown and fill me in on what's happening."

"Any time," she said, smiling into the receiver. She regretted that they hadn't become better friends while he was there. It would be terrific if that was still possible. For one thing, he was a pretty cute guy, although she seemed to remember he had been living with someone or something at one time.

He was continuing. "Listen, I've got a couple of youngsters with me I think need to meet you. Seems their mother took them to the mall and then got lost for the rest of the night. The place is closed now and still no sign of mother. The family moved recently too, and the kids can't remember the address."

Rose said nothing. What was there to say? If the children's own home could be found, they'd have to go back there as soon as possible even though an investigation should be launched, by all rights. Under the new system, children were always returned to their families first. "The family unit is also innocent until proved guilty," Hager was fond of saying. Nevertheless, Rose called around and looked into emergency foster placements and was pleased to learn that the Ogdens, a couple who had four kids of their own and a constant stream of foster children, were ready to shuffle their house around to make room for the children that night.

She heard the opening front door of the otherwise silent building and footsteps on the stairs—an adult's quick, deliberate steps accompanied by what sounded like a herd of children, and there they were.

"Hi, Rose, this is Hank and Gigi," Fred said. God, the new uniform was ever so much more becoming than the old one! But otherwise he looked much the same, his face neither handsome nor homely, his dark hair already streaked with gray, his hazel eyes intelligent and understanding. And his smile was the same old brilliant smile, broadening when he saw her. She was glad to see that the streets hadn't taken that out of him yet. Although, actually, if working here hadn't done it, nothing was likely to.

The kids were a small boy who might have been anywhere from five to eight years old and a little girl three or four. The boy's hair was sandy blond and his face rather thin and nervous, his blue eyes darting everywhere, taking in the office, and back up to Fred's face for reassurance. The girl's white-blonde hair curled in little wisps at her shoulders and in bangs she kept brushing from her eyes with one hand, while in the other she clutched a teddy bear dressed as a policeman.

Rose hunkered down until she was eye level with the kids. "Hi, who's your friend?" she asked the little girl.

"Fuzz," she said loudly, then, as if startled by her own voice, stuck the thumb of her free hand in her mouth.

"He's a great bear. Where'd you get him?"

She looked up at Fred with big blue eyes. Rose's own eyes followed hers, and she smiled up at Fred too. She knelt beside Gigi and fingered one of the bear's paws. Fred's hands were long and well shaped, she noticed, the fingers slightly broader at the nails. "Officer Bear here is assisting us with our enquiries, isn't he, kids?"

Thumb still in her mouth, Gigi nodded gravely. Hank asked suddenly, "Will you call our dad in Alaska?"

"Oh?" Rose asked. "Is your dad in Alaska? What's his name?"

"Harry Bjornsen," the boy said promptly. "I'm Harry Bjornsen, Jr., really, but Dad doesn't like junior so I'm Hank."

Fred was nodding in a pleased way. "I'd rather be called Hank than Junior myself. Do you know which boat your dad's on?"

"Naw, he didn't tell us," Hank said. "Aunt Bambi says he isn't coming back.""Who's Aunt Bambi?" Rose asked.

"We live with her," Hank said.

"What's her last name?"

Hank shrugged. "Just Bambi, I guess."

While she was questioning them, Fred said, "I'm going to go see what I can find. See you, Rosie."

"Okay," she said, and waved good-bye, as did the children, as he headed for the stairs.

She picked up her beeper then and drove Hank and Gigi to the Ogden house, where they were bedded down for the night while Fred initiated the search for their mother. Unfortunately for the kids, he was a very good detective.

 

* * *

 

 Hank and Gigi went with Rose to Mr. and Mrs. Ogden's house where Mrs. Ogden gave them their own brand-new toothbrushes and pajamas and had her kids, two boys, move in together so Hank and Gigi could have one of their rooms. The kids didn't even seem to mind. They were already in bed by the time Hank and Gigi got there and seemed too sleepy to object.

And the next morning, there was Officer Fred at the lady's door. "Ready to go home?" he asked them, and took them straight back to Aunt Bambi's.

Mama looked really glad to see them and hugged and kissed them and admired Officer Fuzz and tried to thank Officer Fred but when he looked at her, he looked just the way Hank had been afraid policemen would look.

Aunt Bambi woke up after Officer Fred left, padded out into the kitchenette for a beer, took one look at them and said to Mama, "Shit. You're going to have to do better next time."

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