“Only a few weeks. Before that, they’d been in a holding location, and prior to that had been in a typical foster care situation. Where I took her from—” Owen hesitated, unsure how much to share. “It was intense. Isolated from civilization, the whole scene was dehumanizing in the extreme. She’d lost her protector only a few days ago. Kelly, he’s the brother, had been dumped into the Pine Barrens, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time. So she’s been dealing with abandonment, too.”
Marchant held the empty bottle in his hand, fingers closing around it slowly, the crinkling of the crushed plastic loud in the room. “For clarity’s sake, I should tell you that I received a call earlier tonight. Upstate New York has a situation of more than a dozen kidnapped and exploited children held in an isolated location, disciplined with shock collars, malnourished and abused. They were also all clad in brand-new clothing provided by a mysterious benefactor and savior. They want me to come up tomorrow and evaluate the kids.”
Well, shit. So much for managing to keep his two kids separate from the rest of the rescued children. He angled his body against the cabinet, freeing the route of access to his holstered weapon. Years of honing his skills allowed him to keep his posture casual, never revealing to the doctor that these might be the last words he said. Masking the importance of the question, Owen asked, “That call you got, it say anything about kids escaping before the cops showed?” Marchant shook his head, the plastic bottle crinkling louder, the walls of the bottle collapsing inwards. “Think hard, man. Did it mention anything else about the guy who called it in?”
“Apparently four different sets of authorities received simultaneous reports from a variety of citizens. So it wasn’t a single guy calling it in. I didn’t get all the details, but I don’t get the feeling the kids are saying anything bad about the guy. Just thought you might want to know.”
When the bottle was a crushed ball of plastic, Marchant twirled the cap back into place, locking it into the deformed shape.
Owen stared hard, thinking this could be a metaphor for his life. Damaged beyond recognition, less functional than before, and absolutely, totally stuck in place. Shaking off the unaccustomed melancholy, he gave a heartfelt, “Thanks.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about from me, Marcus. Whatever you had to do to save that little girl, to save that boy—you’ve got my full support. Anything I can do, I will. Give me a minute to grab my bag. I dropped it near the door when I came in, thought it would be less frightening if I appeared to be merely a guy. I’ve got some medicine I want to leave for Shiloh and Kelly. From what I’ve heard so far about the living conditions for all the kids, I’d be surprised if they didn’t have some issues, so we’ll get ahead of all that and get them started back towards healthy lives.”
Medications retrieved and explained, Marchant left the kids in Owen’s hands with a promise to be available for any follow-up questions. He’d been gone for only a few minutes when Owen heard the scuff of a bare foot against the kitchen tile. He glanced up at the screen where he’d been monitoring the kids to see Shiloh on her own, curled up in bed with her arms around the largest of the stuffed animals he’d bought for Kelly. Which meant the footfalls had to be Kelly. “Hey, kiddo. Supper’s about ten minutes from ready.”
“Is that guy a doctor? For real?” Owen looked over his shoulder and nodded, unsure what to make of the expression on Kelly’s face. “And he won’t say anything about us being here?”
“No, he won’t.” Turning to face the boy, Owen gave him the truth. “With him agreeing to treat you guys, we’re in a deadlock, but not a bad one. It’s more of a moral dilemma for him than anything. By treating you and Shiloh without taking you to a hospital, he’s made a stand that he thinks you’ll be better off here. But now I know something about him, and he knows something about me, and we’ll both keep our mouths shut because the end result is what we both know is right.” Owen leaned against the counter. “I’m not comfortable taking you back to foster care until I deal with the bad cop that got you into this mess to begin with.”
Something undefinable passed across Kelly’s face. “Is that next then?” Owen nodded, noting how the skin of Kelly’s face grew taut, impacted by a tension Owen didn’t understand. “And afterwards we’ll be back with fosters?”
Backs of his eyes stinging, Owen narrowed his lids, trying to maintain a stoic expression. The idea of leaving the kids wasn’t something he could contemplate yet, even the thought of the loss enough to knock him off balance. “It’s the best place for you, bud.” He made a split-second decision to expose his reasoning, so Kelly would understand. “See, I’m not set up for long-term anything. I’m in and out of this place, weeks at a time. Plus, I’ve been considering relocating out West, so I might not even be in this house long.”
“To live near your friend.” Kelly took a step backwards. “Without any problems.”
“Problems—what do you mean?” Owen cocked his head to the side, studying the boy’s face intently. Something was going on here, and he hadn’t caught on to what the subtext was.
“Don’t matter. Shiloh’s safe for now. That’s all that matters to me.” Kelly shook his head, and that fall of hair slid over his eyes, blocking them from Owen’s view. “Can I help with food?”
“No, bud.” Speaking slowly, Owen kept trying to read the boy. Something had happened, and he’d missed it. Some crucial clue had passed him by. “I’ve got it covered.”
“Okay.” The boy turned on his heel and disappeared up the hallway.
“What the hell?” Owen turned to the screen in time to see Kelly enter the bedroom. He slipped onto the bed next to Shiloh and curled around her protectively. His shoulders moved in a broken rhythm.
Without turning up the sound, Owen couldn’t be certain, but it appeared the boy was crying.
Torn whether to go investigate, he let the timer for their food decide, dinging an alert that the meal should be ready to eat. Owen turned his nervous energy to setting the table, waffling with a short-lived internal struggle about cutlery and drink glasses, realizing at the last minute that this dinner was the kind the kids couldn’t easily manage with their fingers. He hadn’t been thinking when he picked the food, and now cursed himself quietly. Chicken nuggets and fries would have been easier for them than a casserole.
“Nothing for it now. If I can get a few bites into them, it’ll be enough.” I’ll do better. These kids had been through so much already; they deserved more responsible care than he could provide. If even simple decisions like appropriate meals were beyond him, the idea of trying to keep the kids on his own was laughable. “Fucking idiot.”
He huffed out a sigh and turned to call for the kids to find them already standing in the doorway, Shiloh slightly behind Kelly, probably instinctively placed there by the boy so he could protect her. He’s such a good kid. Maybe Owen would have a chance to influence the foster care placement, ensuring they’d get a home dedicated to them instead of one with rooms of bunk beds and a rotating door. I’ll make sure they’re set before I do anything. “Food’s ready. Come sit, and let’s eat. It’s been a busy day, and I’m bushed. I bet you guys are, too.” He pulled out the two chairs side by side and stepped back to make room. “Sit here, and I’ll dish up the food.”