She shook her head. “Can I go back to class now?”
“Sure.”
I stood with Jean about five minutes later, observing Leah through the door of the classroom. The hall was quiet. After giving it some thought, I knew what I wanted to do about Leah. Turning to Jean, I knew she would agree with my suggestion.
“I’d like to do a home visit.”
“Agreed. I think her behavior and sadness warrants a closer look into the family. I don’t believe anything inappropriate is happening, but she lost her mother, was in foster care for five years, and is now in the custody of her adult sister. It’s a lot of adjustment for a child.”
“I want her to trust me. There’s no way to help her if she doesn’t.”
Jean placed a hand on my shoulder. “I knew I liked you the moment you interviewed. You’re a good fit for Pinehurst Elementary. I’m glad you’re on staff.”
“Thank you, Jean.”
MY GPS SHOWED THE ADDRESS was located in a nice part of town, an upper middle-class neighborhood with modest two-story homes and attached garages, big front and backyards that reached all the way to the bike trails and sidewalks in near perfect condition. Most properties boasted two new or fairly new cars or SUV’s and freshly mowed and manicured lawns with blooming flowerbeds.
The second I exited my car I could hear children laughing and playing up and down the street. I parked in front of the house since I wasn’t sure if anyone was going to need the driveway. Picking up my clipboard and purse, I swung the bag across my body and made my way toward the front door. I’d timed my arrival right around dinner at six p.m. when families congregated together for their evening meal.
The first time I pressed the doorbell nothing happened. I waited for a couple of minutes and then pressed it again. Glancing at my watch, I frowned. Where was everyone? Backyard maybe?
I was all set to walk around the house and check when the door was flung open. In all my years of volunteering, working at the food pantry, following up on critical child removal orders, and serious cases of neglect – I’d never seen such an intimidating and menacing looking man glaring down with intense dark eyes. Tall as the arch in the doorway which was at least a good foot above my height, he loomed from above like some monster ready to tear his prey apart.
My eyes widened, glancing over the dark denim of his long, thick legs upward to the tight blue t-shirt that covered a broad chest molded with grooves and valleys of corded muscle. A black leather vest hung on his frame as if it was a badge of honor, the patch over his chest boasting Treasurer. Ravage Riders MC was stitched on the front and I knew if he turned around, I would see the skull that wore a helmet and wings, the logo that belonged to his club. It wasn’t the first time that I saw bikers in Providence, but it was the first time I had met any members up close.
“Uh, hello,” I greeted, swallowing hard. “This is the residence of Leah James, right?”
“Shit,” he cursed. “Who are you? Social services?”
Great. I could already see how badly this visit was going to go. “Well, kind of. Is Rae Stenson available?”
The biker gave me a once over, muttered something I couldn’t hear under his breath, and turned his head, yelling for Leah’s sister. “Rae! You’ve got company.”
Chapter 3 – R.J.
After Church, I rode with Edge home and pulled up in the driveway, parking my Harley next to Rae’s dark cherry red RAV4. We entered the house together and I smiled as he greeted Rae and Leah with kisses. Both girls loved the big guy and couldn’t get enough of his attention.
My phone vibrated inside my cut as I watched Edge swing little Leah around the room, and she giggled. Three incoming texts. All from my mother.
Great. What now?
Mom: Need some cigarettes.
That was usually the only time she texted. When she needed something.
Me: I’ll swing by later.
She didn’t reply.
There was a light knock on the front door. Might as well answer it for Edge and Rae. They weren’t paying attention anyway.
“I’ve got it,” I mumbled, opening the door wide with a bit of frustration. A hot little brunette was standing on the front porch, her long dark hair reaching almost to her waist. She was holding a clipboard and wore sunglasses that she shoved gently upward to rest over her forehead.
At first, I thought she was some kind of solicitor, but then a sinking feeling began to churn in my stomach. This wasn’t a social call. Something was up.
“Uh, hello,” she greeted, swallowing hard as her dark green eyes appraised me from head to toe, never skipping a beat. Couldn’t tell what she was thinking but her expression didn’t bode well. “This is the residence of Leah James, right?”
“Shit,” I cursed. Edge wasn’t gonna be happy. We didn’t need some nosy child protective services agency in our business or giving Rae a headache. “Who are you? Social services?”