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Excited, Delainey asked, “Yeah? Did your contact at social services come through?”
“Yes, actually. But a funny thing happened that I didn’t quite expect. I mentioned I was looking into that particular address and both Jax and Hunter spent time in that house, too. They didn’t go into details but I could tell by their reactions that some bad stuff happened there.”
“Wow, what are the odds of that?” Delainey wondered. “Maybe if enough people came forward to testify…”
“C’mon, you know that’s not going to happen. The people they abused were selected for a reason…no one is going to listen. The statute of limitations is long past for any criminal justice to take place but maybe we can get someone to poke around for newer cases.”
“So basically, a fishing expedition.”
Zoe nodded. “Basically. But the fish is pretty big if what we think happened, is still happening.”
Delainey nodded. “So what did you find out?”
“Well, my friend at social services confirmed that there is a foster family living at that address but it’s unknown if it’s the same family.”
“Don’t they have records of that sort of thing?”
“Yes, but there was some flooding in the basement where the hard copies of the files were kept and a few were ruined. So…we’re not sure if it’s the same family but…there’s one way we could find out.”
“How’s that?”
Zoe took a breath before saying, “Well, we’d have to convince our guys to identify them and that’s where the challenge comes in. My guys are not interested in revisiting the past.”
“Neither is mine.” Delainey frowned but she wasn’t willing to admit defeat, not yet. An idea jumped into her head. “Hey, how about this…what if we went to the address on the pretense of doing a story on them. You could be the reporter, I’ll be your photographer. Do you still have your Courier ID?”
“Yeah but you know that’s illegal, right? It’s called fraud. I can’t misrepresent who I am.”
“You still freelance for them, right?”
“Yeah.”
Delainey smiled coyly. “Then who’s to say that you’re not writing a piece for them? Freelancers do spec work, right?”
Zoe saw where Delainey was going and nodded, warming to the idea. “Yeah, and stories get killed even after all the work is done. I could just say that the story was axed before it went to print if they question why it never showed up.”
“Exactly.”
“Dee, I never knew you were so crafty,” Zoe said, grinning. “I like this side of you.”
Delainey returned the grin, saying, “Let’s go see if we can catch ourselves a predator.”
***
Delainey and Zoe arrived at 2219 Bluebell Lane and parked, taking a moment to look around. Delainey snapped a few shots and then they went to the front door and knocked twice. No one would ever suspect they weren’t who they said they were because they looked like nice, plump young ladies who wouldn’t say boo to anyone. A stereotype, in this case, was part of their strategy.
“Can I help you?” An older man came to the door, looking to be about late 50s but trim and healthy.
Zoe took the lead, stepping up with a bright smile. “Hello! I’m with the Courier and we’re doing a story on stellar foster care families in the county and your name popped up. Apparently, you’ve been in foster care for quite a while?” Zoe was fishing. They didn’t know that for sure but it was brilliant because the man’s smile widened and he seemed tickled and not the least bit suspicious.
“Is that so? How wonderful. Well, c’mon in, sweetheart,” he said, ushering them into their tidy home. At first glance, it was hard to imagine anything but wholesome goodness happening between these four walls, which given the information they knew, made her try to look beyond the superficial. Of course, she also knew that they could be barking up the wrong tree and appearances could be exactly as they seemed. An older woman exited the kitchen area to see what the fuss was about and immediately Delainey was struck by the notion that she wasn’t as nice as her smile pretended to be. She didn’t know why but the woman put off a vibe that rubbed Delainey the wrong way immediately, though if pressed she couldn’t give a reason. “Millie! Guess what? The Courier is doing a story on us. How neat is that?”
“A story? What kind of story, dear?” she asked, coming to stand beside her husband. “We don’t need any publicity for the good work we do. It’s the Lord’s calling and all we do is listen.”
Delainey shared a look with Zoe. Church-going folk too? They had to be barking up the wrong tree. Zoe took a seat on the sofa and Delainey followed suit as the couple sat opposite them on a cute, floral love seat. “You have a lovely home,” Delainey offered with a smile. “Very homey. I bet the kids really love having a safe haven such as this after everything they’ve been through.”
“Well, we like them to consider our home, their home,” he said.
Zoe smiled. “Can I get your names?” she prompted, pen ready.
“Ah, yes, of course. I’m George Almanza and this is my wife Millie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Zoe murmured as she jotted down the names. “How long have you been fostering?”
“Oh goodness…” George looked to Millie for confirmation, “Quite a while, hasn’t it, Mother? At least twenty years or so. We were never blessed with children of our own but we had so much love to give that we wanted to take in the poor misfortunate children who needed guidance and love. We pour so much love into these children that it’s hard to remember that they’re not of our flesh, isn’t that right, Millie?”
“Yes, dear,” Millie agreed, flashing a brief, efficiently polite smile. “Loving children…it’s just what we do. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Zoe nodded. “And have you always been in this house?”
“Oh yes,” George said, proud. “Right here. This is ground zero for our family. We pride ourselves on our deep roots.”
It was hard to suppress the shiver that ran right down Delainey’s spine as George inadvertently confirmed that they were the monsters Bronx had talked about, especially when they presented a completely different picture. But then monsters sometimes wore nice smiles and looked like great people, right? Delainey wasn’t terribly religious but she did remember that the Bible stated the devil had once been heaven’s brightest angel before the Fall.
“Dee, can you get a picture of George and Millie?” Zoe said to Delainey and she nearly dropped her camera. She fumbled but recovered with a bright smile to snap a few shots of the couple as they smiled brightly for the shot. Geesh, she wasn’t cut out for this undercover stuff, apparently. She looked to Zoe with an expression that said, let’s get the hell out of here, but Zoe ignored her and pushed forward with a few more questions. “Twenty years…that’s a lot of kids…I’m sure you see all kinds of kids come through your doors…any stand out in particular?”
“Oh goodness…so many little faces…we love them all. It’s hard to pick a favorite,” George said with a fond smile that came off as super creepy to Delainey. “How about you, Mother? Any stand out for you?”
“I couldn’t say. We’ve been blessed with an abundance of wonderful little people in this house over the years.”
“Forgive me, but you must remember a little boy by the name of Gage? According to your records from Social Services…he died. Can you shed some light on that particular case?” Delainey put it out there, watching their reaction keenly. They came for answers, they might as well go all in.
Their smiles remained fixed but their gazes narrowed as George took the lead, clasping his wife’s hand as if in comfort but it seemed to Delainey, he was restraining her. “Gage…yes, that was a tragedy. We’ve lost one child over the years but an investigation revealed we were not at fault. Lovely boy. Sweet. But troubled. Some children come to us so broken. A broken pot, no matter how well you mend it, will always be fragile.”
“What happened to him?” Zoe asked.
/> “As I’m sure you’ve already read in the report…it was a terrible accident,” Millie said, her eyes cold. “One we don’t like to talk about, as you can imagine. Surely your readers aren’t interested in that terrible incident.”
“I think our readers would find it uplifting to read how you overcame such a tragedy,” Zoe countered with a short smile. “Overcoming adversity and all that.”
“Yes, well, we prefer to move on. Gage, bless his little soul, is in a better place and that’s where we would like to leave it.”
George patted his wife’s hand, saying apologetically, “Mother doesn’t like to talk about Gage. She loved him so much. Probably too much. We’re supposed to remain a little detached but those little rascals worm their way into our hearts. He was such a joy to us. A playful little scamp. He loved special times with Mother and me.”
Special times. A sickly knot formed in Delainey’s gut and she nearly threw the camera at them. She looked to Zoe. “I think we have enough, right?”
Zoe snapped her notebook shut with a smile. “Yep. We have what we need.” She rose and folded her hands to her chest, hugging her notebook and Delainey knew she did it because she didn’t want to shake hands with them. “Thank you so much for your time. We’ll be in touch.”
George and Millie followed them to the door and then George said as he let them out, “Will we get an advance copy before the story runs?” he asked.
Zoe seemed to take great relish in saying, “Sorry, we don’t do that. But don’t worry, I’ve been told I’m a very good reporter. I’ll make sure you get a good story.”
George seemed pleased with that and nodded. “Thank you! We look forward to reading it.”
