Mike nodded. “Yeah, it’s a possibility. Another caseworker, Roberta Noelle, drives the same car as Harriet Fogarty. Or, they’re different makes, but look almost identical. The women bear some resemblance, too – same hair color, same length, but otherwise they’re thirty, thirty-five years apart in age. Most notably, the reason Harriet Fogarty was working late was she was covering for Noelle. So, we’re taking that all on board.”
He cleared his throat, seeking the previous thread. “Okay, so caseworkers, when they’re on call, get paged sporadically. If it’s after hours then usually the call comes to us first – if it’s domestic violence, maybe drug-or alcohol-related, and someone called 911, then we notify SCR – that’s the State Central Register of Child Abuse and Maltreatment for those of you taking notes. But they’re also getting complaints directly, and they may not ask for a police escort. Now, I’m not saying we need to be looking at every one of those calls. But I want someone accompanying these workers on every home assessment or any initial investigation from this point. Okay?”
No one groaned or rolled their eyes, but Mike could see in their faces it was a lot to ask. Officer Cal Mullins raised a hand this time. “How are we getting their schedules?”
“They’ve got a massive system going on there. We’ll export to a spreadsheet, get a list of addresses we can map out, pin any areas of heavy activity.”
Overton spoke up. “When we interview their IT person we can have him do the export – we’ll need to get past the security software.”
“Great. That will work.” Mike clapped his hands together. “Okay. Right now we have a few persons of interest, including the victim’s brother, Steven Pritchard, who is currently off our radar. We’re actively looking to get a hold of Pritchard, but in the meantime we’ve got a lot of staff to get through, a lot of data to crunch. I’m going to turn this over to Detective Lena Overton from Lake Haven PD.”
Another arm shot up, Reggie Hume again. “What about this line on some disgruntled parent who forfeited their parental rights? I’ve read about this Grayson Fuller child in your initial report – you’re getting a writ to look into other potential cases like this? Because this has my interest piqued.”
“Mine too. We’re working on it.”
He stepped out of the way so Overton could have the floor. Then he sat down and listened as she handed out assignments to everyone in the room.
Five
Connor came by Bobbi’s place late in the day after getting held up at work. Bobbi stood on the doorstep of her apartment building behind the church. She’d been there awhile, watching every car, alerted to every passerby, wondering if any one of them were a killer out to finish the job. Seeing Connor get Jolyon out of the massive pickup truck managed to lighten her mood; he struggled to unbuckle the child-restraint seat while Jolyon played with a Transformer toy, swishing it through the air, pooching his lips out to make artillery sounds – pitchoo pitchoo.
Then the kid was free and Connor plopped him onto the sidewalk. Their voices drifted over from the street. “You want your backpack? Here, put your pack on. You can read your comic book while I talk to Bobbi.”
“It’s a graphic novel.”
“It has pictures, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a comic book. I’m never wrong. About anything.”
Connor mounted a giant backpack onto his son then glanced up, waved, and smiled at her. She felt a mix of emotions; her feelings about Connor and Jolyon were complicated – wonderful and scary at the same time.
The man and his boy made their way up the walkway to her.
“Welcome.” She looked down at Jolyon and his outsized pack. “What’ve you got in there?”
“Oh, just all my stuff.”
Not looking at her, Jolyon suddenly threw his arms around her waist and Bobbi’s heart did a somersault. She’d spent a few hours with him by now, but his affection still surprised her. She placed a gentle hand on his head as she turned to Connor, who looked slightly embarrassed and reached for his son.
Then Bobbi squeezed Jolyon around the shoulders in a return hug. “Let’s go up to my apartment in the sky, yeah?”
“Yeah!”
She held the door and Jolyon bounded in. She’d told him about her apartment when she’d met him on her second date with Connor. Apparently, Jolyon had never spent any time in an apartment, and he’d marveled at it being on the third floor of a building, counting Bobbi as lucky to live in the sky. He clomped up the stairs eagerly ahead of them, the big backpack manhandling him along the way.
“Well,” Connor said, “I guess you’re in.” He called after Jolyon. “Hey, slow up, bud!”
The boy had already disappeared around the corner and was charging up the second flight of stairs. “I know where to go! 3B! ‘B’ for Bobbi!”
Bobbi gave Connor’s hand a quick squeeze. “Better catch him.” She started up the stairs, realizing Connor had been anticipating a kiss. Maybe later.
She focused on Jolyon, taking the steps two at a time in order to keep up. “I’m gonna beat you to the top!” she teased.
“No, you’re not!”
She grabbed the bannister and swung herself onto the second floor, sprinted down the hallway to the next flight. The apartment building smelled like cigarettes and greasy food. It hadn’t been her first choice, but 3B had been available when she’d got the DSS job and she’d snatched it up. She could’ve found something in Lake Haven, but the problem of living in the place where you worked was that you ran into everyone, eventually, out on the street. It was Harriet who’d suggested as much. Just ten minutes away, Lake Placid had afforded Bobbi a touch of privacy that now felt vital.
“I beat you!” Jolyon sounded ecstatic.
Bobbi heard him jumping outside her door. She reached the third floor and found him grinning, trying her doorknob. “It’s locked.”
She pulled out the keys as she approached. “You want to open it?”
“Sure, yeah. Dad lets me start the truck sometimes.”
“Does he? That’s cool.” She handed over the keys, pinching aside the correct one for him to use. “Just give it a little twist.”
Connor had reached the landing and started down the hall. She turned and gave him a smile as Jolyon made the key work and pushed against the door with his shoulder. “Got it!” He ran inside her place.
Bobbi waited for Connor to catch up, and slipped an arm around his waist. She came up just past his shoulder and he looked down into her eyes. Bobbi stretched onto her tiptoes and he kissed her, then drew her into an embrace.
So, this was “later” then. She eased back onto her heels, enjoying the swimmy sensation of their first kiss, the way her skin was tingling. But Connor gave her a serious look. “You okay?”
“I’m getting there; we’ll talk.”
* * *
“Hey,” Connor said. “This is nice.” He walked into the living room.
She’d done what she could with the place, which wasn’t much. At least there was plenty of light from the several large windows facing the church next door.
“How many other apartments are there?” Connor asked.
“Five.” She closed the door on the hallway, locked it.
Connor seemed to notice. “You meet all your neighbors yet?”
“Just two of them. One guy’s a cook, I think, the other guy is… well, he’s Frank Gilbert. At least, that’s what it says on the door.”
He laughed. “I saw that – he’s got his name taped up. That’s helpful, huh?”
“Hey, well, it saves time on introductions, right?”
“And the landlord, you said…?”
“He lives out of town. I think California.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely out of town.”
The banter was nice, but she could sense their nervousness. Jolyon had dropped his pack in the middle of the floor and was bouncing up and down on her couch, the one real piece of furniture she owned. Otherwise the place was practically unfurnished.
“Spacious,” Connor said, smirking.
She gave his shoulder a playful slap. “I got that couch on Craigslist the first week I moved in. The guy delivered it for me. Otherwise, everything here is what I was able to fit into my car.”
Connor called to his son. “Hey, sport, hop down from there, okay?”