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He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No. She must be working.”
“Where does she work? Can you give me her work phone number?”
He said nothing and she tried again.
“Does she have a cell phone number I could call?” she asked.
“You could try, but she’s not answering.”
His voice broke on the last word, but he clamped his mouth together tightly, as if afraid that once he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop.
Something terrible was going on here. She still didn’t know what, but she suddenly knew she couldn’t stop until she found out.
She uttered a fervent prayer that she could figure out the best way to reach him. Somehow she sensed he would respond better if she were on his level, so she knelt down and took one of his cold hands in hers.
“Clinton,” she said softly. “How long since you’ve seen your mother?”
He hitched in a ragged breath, eyes wide. She could see he didn’t want to answer her, but his fingers curled in hers, and she saw all his bravado begin to crumble. Tears welled up in his eyes, and one trickled down the side of his nose.
“Friday. She had a doctor’s appointment at the army hospital place in Boise, and she...she didn’t come back. And the furnace is out, and I don’t know how to make it work, and I tried to start a fire, but I couldn’t do that either. It’s cold everywhere except in here with the space heater.”
“You said she’s not answering her phone?”
He shook his head. “I tried and tried and tried to call her, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to do so I just took care of Davy the best I could, and we spent the days at school and the library, where it was warm and safe.”
“Oh, honey.”
Four days they had been on their own. She couldn’t imagine what he had been going through. He was only eight years old, far too young for that kind of responsibility.
He sniffled again, and it was too much. Heart breaking, she held out her arms. “Come here. Come here.”
He sagged against her, as if sharing the burden he had been carrying had left him boneless and exhausted.
“Please, don’t call the cops. If you do, we’ll go to foster care, and they’ll split us up.”
“I have to call someone, honey. Children aren’t supposed to be left alone for days at a time.”
“Please, don’t. Just go.” He slid away from her and stood looking fearful and impossibly young.
“I can’t do that,” she said softly. “You know I can’t. You need help, and I have a good friend whose job is to help children in just this kind of situation. I’m going to call her, and she’ll fix things.”
He didn’t look convinced as she hit her speed dial for Wynona Emmett, who used to be a police officer but was now a social worker with the state child welfare agency.
As she waited for Wyn to answer, Julia had the uncomfortable realization that an hour ago, her biggest problem was a lingering hangover and the stupid crush she had on the neighbor upstairs.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u87ed92cc-3926-5cf6-af7f-a8b2ba8b44a8)
“WHAT’S GOING TO happen to them?” Through the kitchen doorway, Julia eyed the two little boys sitting side by side on the tattered, raggedy sofa.
Since the moment Wynona Emmett showed up, Clinton had been visibly—and audibly—upset, full of accusations and pleas for them to go away. Davy mostly seemed confused, though he took his cues from his brother and sniffed every once in a while.
Julia felt horrible about the whole situation. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten involved, should have simply looked the other way.
How could she have, though? Any person with an ounce of compassion would have done the same thing she had, called in the state’s department of child welfare. If ever two children’s welfare needed looking after, it was Clint’s and Davy’s.
The boys couldn’t stay here in this cold, cheerless house. Their mother was nowhere in evidence, and it looked as if they hadn’t had a decent meal in days.
“I don’t know what will happen to them,” Wynona admitted. Her eyes were soft with compassion as she looked through the doorway at the boys. “They’ll go into foster care, definitely, probably a short-term facility in Boise for now, until we can find a longer-term placement.”
“So they’ll have to leave their friends and their teachers? While we were waiting for you, Clinton was so pleased to tell me about how well he’s doing in school.”
“I wish I could find something closer to Haven Point. Believe me, there’s nothing I would love more. It would be better, all the way around. But local foster families are in short supply, especially this time of year when the need outpaces the available resources. There is a chance I could place one of them in the area, but not both.”
Out in the living room, Clint put an arm around his brother, who had started to sob—whether from fear or exhaustion, she didn’t know.
“You’ll have to split them up?”
“Most likely,” Wyn admitted. Julia could tell she wasn’t any happier about that idea than Julia. Wyn’s expression plainly conveyed her frustration with the situation.
“Any idea where the mother might be?”
“We’ve put out a BOLO on her. Be on the lookout. Sorry. I forget not everybody knows cop-speak.”
“I watch TV occasionally,” Julia said. “I know what a BOLO means.”
“She never showed up for her appointment at the VA. We’ve been able to figure that much out.”
Wyn gave a careful look toward the boys, then turned her body away and spoke in a low voice. “I really hope we can locate her. Her counselor at the VA couldn’t tell us much because of privacy laws. Reading between the lines, though, it sounds like Mikaela Slater has been struggling the last few weeks.”
“Oh, I hope she’s okay. They’ve already lost their father. I hate thinking they might lose their mother, too. What about extended family? Clint told me the boys lived with an aunt and uncle while their parents were both deployed.”
“It might take us some time to track them down. Clinton says they’re working in a country that starts with an A or an I. He couldn’t remember which one. That doesn’t narrow it down much.”
In the other room, Davy sobbed, and Clint patted his back and said something to him.
Julia’s distress must have shown on her features. Wyn reached out and squeezed her arm. “You did the right thing, honey. You know you had no choice. I’ll see the boys find a good placement.”
“You’ll let me know what happens?”
“Absolutely. I won’t know anything definite until tomorrow anyway. Tonight they’ll go to the temporary facility in Shelter Springs, where they’ll be well taken care of, I promise.”
“Thank you.”
Wyn squeezed her arm again, and Julia recognized the gesture as one of both comfort and dismissal. Wyn had more important things to do than allay her concerns.
Feeling helpless and superfluous, Julia walked out into the living room to say goodbye to the boys.
Before she could open her mouth, Clinton threw her a look of deep mistrust.
“This is your fault,” he said, voice vibrating with anger and his eyes dark with betrayal. “We should never have let you give us a ride. No, we shouldn’t have gone to the library in the first place.”
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”
“We were doing just fine. I heard what the lady said. Now they’re probably going to split us up.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. The words seemed wholly inadequate.
“We thought you were our friend, but you’re not. You’re just a big...poopie,” Davy cried. That was probably the worst word he could come up with. Right now, it felt pretty accurate.
“Just go,” Clint said.
Julia wanted to gather both boys close to offer what little comfort she could, but she knew they wouldn’t welcome the gesture right now.
Oh, she hoped Wyn was able to find their mother—and soon. She couldn’t bear considering the alternative.
Her heart felt as cold and heavy as the wind blowing through Sulfur Hollow as she walked out to her car.
* * *
ALL HE WANTED was a lousy shower. Was that too much to ask?
Jamie knocked hard again on his landlady’s door, willing her to answer, even though all the evidence indicated the woman wasn’t home.
He had made two trips to California that day, transporting Caine Tech employees who had family there home for Thanksgiving. The last one had been through a vicious storm.
Okay, he wanted a shower and a beer, maybe, and his nice, warm bed.
He knocked one more time, though he already knew it was futile. Inside, he could hear a couple of cats meowing at him, but no approaching footsteps.
She wasn’t home, which meant he wouldn’t have hot water.
Okay. No hot shower. He could either suck it up and have a cold one or heat up some water in the microwave so he could at least wash up.
He had been deployed to the Middle East twice. He had survived much worse conditions.
He turned away from the door and was about to head up the stairs to his apartment when he noticed headlights pulling into the driveway and into the detached garage on the property.
A moment later, the front door opened, and Julia Winston walked in, moving slowly, as if her bones weighed more than she could support. Something was wrong. He wasn’t sure how he could be so confident when he barely knew the woman, but he knew it at a glance.
Surprise flickered in those hauntingly lovely eyes when she spotted him. He saw a quick flash of something that looked suspiciously like dismay.
Was she thinking about the night before, about those heated few moments?
You’re so nice. That’s why all the girls like you so much.
He had been thinking about her all day. He had done his best to push those thoughts away, but it hadn’t worked very well.
At random moments, he would remember those beautiful eyes of hers and the tousled bedroom hair and the way her tongue had darted out to lick at her plump bottom lip.
Now those same lips tightened. “Oh. Hello. I’m sorry. You’re looking for me. Have you been waiting long?”
“A few minutes.”
He immediately wanted to demand she tell him what had upset her but that would probably sound ridiculous.
“I was...held up after work. Did you need something?”
Yes. For you to tell me what’s wrong. He couldn’t say that, of course.
His real reason for knocking on her door seemed silly, and suddenly he didn’t want to burden her with one more thing. It was obvious she had greater worries than his hot water—or, more specifically, the lack thereof.
Without telling her the truth, though, he couldn’t think of a good excuse for standing outside her door.
He sighed. “It’s not a big deal, and I hate to bother you with it. I don’t have any hot water. I was heading into the shower and ran it for about ten minutes, and the temperature seemed to only get colder.”
“Oh.” She looked totally defeated, as if all color and light had leached away from her world.
“I’m sure it’s something simple. Do you mind if I take a look at your water heater? I might be able to figure it out.”
“I...no. Of course not.”
“Is it inside your apartment or...” He let his voice trail off.
“Oh. Yes. You want to go inside.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “I’m sorry. It’s been a...long day.”
She unlocked the door and pushed it open. Immediately, a trio of cats rushed past her to greet Jamie.
She didn’t blink at that, as if their defection was all she deserved.
Inside her house, he had the same impression as the other night, one of fussy tidiness. Some instinct told him the decor on this floor of the house wasn’t the real her, that she was only maintaining the antiques and collectibles out of obligation. She would fit much better among the delicate, feminine furnishings upstairs.
Saying nothing, she led him through the living area to her kitchen, where she opened a door and flipped on a light. Stone steps led the way down to a large stone basement that had likely once been the root cellar of the house. Now, as Julia led the way down the stairs, he discovered a furnace and water heater that both looked new.
He looked around the space. “This is quite a cellar.”
“I know. I hated coming down here when I was a girl. I’m still not that crazy about it, if you want the truth. I avoid it as much as possible.”
As soon as she spoke the words, she looked as if she wanted to take them back, as if she hated revealing a weakness about herself.
He wanted to tell her he found it charming. It also made him wonder what she had been like as a little girl, all gorgeous, serious eyes and long, dark braids. He didn’t know how he knew she had braids, but he could picture them, clear as day.
“The water heater shouldn’t be having trouble. It’s brand-new and still under warranty,” she said. “I had it installed when the furnace went out this fall.”
“Let me just take a look.”
He didn’t know much about water heaters, but he figured if he could fix some of the tricky mechanical problems of his airplanes, he should be able to figure this out.
He tinkered for a moment and quickly realized the pilot light had gone out on the water heater.
