“Okay. If that changes, Mason, if you want or need us to leave, just let Tate know, okay? And we’ll go. This is your space, and we don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
He doesn’t look like he knows what to make of that, which isn’t as surprising as I’d like it to be. He’s never really been allowed to have any idea of what “his space” should be.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions? They’ll be yes or no, and if you don’t know the answer or don’t remember, that’s perfectly okay.”
There are times in this job when I say okay so many times it no longer feels like a real word in my mouth. But Mason nods, after an uncertain look at Tate, so I settle more comfortably against the wall, crossing my legs tailor-fashion and keeping my hands on my knees, palms up and fingers loose, to be as nonthreatening as possible.
“Did the person who brought you to the hospital talk to you?”
He nods slowly.
“Was it a lady?”
Another nod.
“Was she wearing a mask over her face?”
His nod is more confident this time.
“This one is important, Mason: Did she hurt you?”
He shakes his head.
“Did she mention any other kids or families?”
He shakes his head again.
“When you were in the car, did she bring you straight to the hospital?”
He nods.
That’s . . . odd.
“Was she as short as Agent Cass?”
She’s only five-foot-one, so it’s a fair question, however much the discreet kick to my thigh tells me she’s unhappy about it. Mason looks her up and down, his eyes sliding over to Nancy before he finally shakes his head.
“How about Miss Nancy, then: Was she as tall as Miss Nancy?”
He pulls one hand away from the tablet to wobble it in midair.
“How about a thumbs-up for taller, or a thumbs-down for shorter. Can you do that for me, Mason?”
He studies Miss Nancy again, who gives him a soft smile and stays precisely where she is. Slowly, uncertainly, he gives a thumbs-up.
“This is going to be a little bit harder: thumbs-up if she’s closer to Miss Nancy’s height, thumbs-down if she’s closer to my height.”
He looks between us for several moments, then puts his hand back to the iPad and shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears. Why the hell did I ask that sitting down?
“That’s okay, Mason. It’s okay if you’re not sure. I know there was a lot going on all at once.”
He doesn’t smile, but his shoulders drop a bit and his lips twitch in something that’s probably as close to a smile as he gets.
I want to keep that almost smile. I ask him more open questions, ones that turn it into a silly guessing game, like what’s his favorite color, or who’s his favorite superhero, and gradually, as my guesses get more and more off the wall, he starts leaning forward in the beanbag, eager to nod or shake his head to each one, and Tate gives me a broad smile. When Mason starts yawning, we say our goodbyes, leaving him with Tate, and follow Nancy out the door.
“Does he have family who can safely take him in?” asks Cass.
Nancy nods and walks with us to the elevators. “His uncles are making arrangements to get here; they’re hoping to arrive tonight or tomorrow if they can get things squared away with their bosses. His father’s brother and his husband, I believe.”
“If he’s comfortable with the iPad, can you ask Tate to show him different kinds of cars? If we can narrow down the make and model of the car, that would be a big help.”
“I’ll pass that along.”
I press the call button for the elevator. “One of your filing clerks, Gloria,” I say casually, aware of Cass stiffening beside me. “Is she always that grumpy?”
But far from suspecting anything, Nancy gives a soft, sad laugh. “Oh, dear. Gloria. She’s . . . well, she’s having a time of it, I’m afraid.”
“She’s ill.”
“Yes. Breast cancer, but it’s spread into her lungs and down into her abdomen. She insists on working, though, any day she feels strong enough. I think having something to do helps her a bit emotionally. And, well . . . this may be something that makes the CPS gossip rounds more than the national news, but did you hear anything about the CPS office in Gwinnett County? Down in Georgia?”
Cass and I both shake our heads.
“She grew up just outside of Atlanta, and her sister and brother-in-law both work in that office. She’s a nurse, and he’s a social worker. There was a big scandal there recently, and an investigation uncovered that several of the employees were purposefully concealing some abuse cases, or declining to investigate fully, and they were all cases involving employee kids or the kids of friends.”
“Her sister and brother-in-law?”
Nancy nods reluctantly. “So they’re off to prison, but the court wouldn’t let Gloria take her nieces and nephews because of the cancer. They said she’s not healthy enough to take care of five kids. And, truthfully, she’s not, but the kids got split up between different family members, and then with her husband’s sudden death, she’s just really had a bad few months. If she offended you—”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. She was snippy, but clearly she has reason to be. I was just wondering if we’d caught her on a bad day, or if she was just generally a grump. Every office has one, you know.”
“Lord, yes. Tell you what, though, give her a name and she can find the file in under ten minutes without even having to look it up. She knows the name of every kid who comes through our office, and last year she got the entire records room reorganized so it actually makes sense now, and got all the digital files tagged and cross-indexed.”
“How’s her prognosis?”
“Not very good, I’m afraid. She found it late.”
“We’ll pray for her,” I say, and Nancy beams. “Just . . . maybe don’t tell her that.”
“God bless you both. Off to see Ronnie next?”
“He’s with his grandmother, right?”
“Yes, she’s up in Reston. Let me get her number for you.”
We wait to call until we’re out of the hospital. Cass’s phone has been buzzing intermittently for the last hour, and every voice mail and almost every text is from Simpkins. Those that aren’t are from her teammates. Warning her, I assume. I can’t make out the words of the second voice mail, but the tone is pissed.
“Try not to get written up for my sake,” I tell her, tapping in the number for Ronnie’s grandmother.
“What if I get written up for the kids’ sakes?” she asks. “It did them good to see you.”
“Voice mail. Do I leave a message?”
“Sure. You haven’t been told otherwise yet.”
It drove our instructors nuts at the academy. As much as I’m willing to split hairs to achieve something, Cass takes it to the subatomic levels.
I clear my throat just before the beep. “This message is for Mrs. Flory Taylor. Ma’am, this is Agent Mercedes Ramirez, with the FBI, and I was hoping to check in on Ronnie, see how he’s doing with everything that’s happened. I’d be grateful if you could please call me back when it’s convenient for you.” I leave my number, then Cass’s name and number for good measure, and hang up. “All right. Anything else we need to do in Manassas before we face the music?”
“Holmes and Mignone won’t be on duty yet, will they?”
“Not for several hours yet.”
“Then I can’t think of anything else. Lunch?”
“I’ll bet twenty Simpkins complains to Vic that his team is a bad influence on her agents.”
“I’ll take that bet. No way she bitches at the unit chief like that, not out-and-out.”
18
You won twenty bucks yesterday, you’re buying the coffee today, Eddison informs me via text while I’m brushing my teeth at his kitchen sink.