“I told them what happened. That my mom would be home soon. That she kept calling and checking on me. That she was a good mom. But it didn’t matter. The cop said he had to follow procedure.” She sneered on that word, and Rick couldn’t blame her. The thought that made him truly ill was thinking of what he’d have done in the same situation. A child, home alone, starting a fire in the kitchen, trying to cook.
Probably the same damn thing. Followed procedure. Taken the child into custody until they could talk to the mother. Found out what was going on. Even though it could take weeks to wade through the paperwork and red tape.
Gina continued, unaware of his silent struggle. “Child Services came and got me. There were a lot of questions. They wouldn’t let me talk to my mom. And then they took me to Nat’s house.”
Finally a small smile peeked out of the pale mask Gina’s face had become. “Nat was so sweet. Took my hand and dragged me into her room. Showed me where I’d sleep. Handed me a big stack of toys and made me play with her.”
She laughed a little. “People think I’m the tough one in our friendship, but I’ve got nothing on Nat, once she sets her mind to something. She wanted me to play and be happy, and she didn’t let up until she got her way.”
“I’m glad they at least sent you someplace good.”
“Yeah.” She nodded and looked back out the window. “Nat’s parents were great. They and Nat were the only good things to come out of that whole nightmare. It took a couple weeks for everyone to do all the investigating they needed to do, file all the paperwork and whatever other shit they thought was necessary for my well-being. They finally took me home. God, my poor mom looked like she’d aged ten years in the two weeks I was gone.”
Shit. Rick’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tight his hands ached. No wonder she hated cops. He couldn’t blame her. But he couldn’t blame them, either. They’d done what they were supposed to do. What they thought, and had been taught, was in the best interest of the child. In other circumstances, in most circumstances, it probably would have been.
“So, you kept in touch with Nat and her family after that?”
“Yeah. Nat would send me letters.” Gina laughed and shook her head. “The girl was relentless. She said we’d been sisters for two weeks so we were sisters for life now. A few years after that, my mom got a good-paying job at the bank where Nat’s mom worked. We moved to be closer to her job, and we ended up being in the same school. Spent most of our spare time together after that. Her parents moved to Pennsylvania a few years ago, but I still visit them when I can.”
“Well, I’m glad something good came of it.”
“Yeah,” she said. She took a deep breath and her face lost the closed, pinched look that tore at his heart. He wanted to pull her in his arms and erase all the pain from her past. He didn’t think she’d welcome that, though.
Her story had brought home to him even more how unsuited they were for each other. She obviously had a deep-seated hatred of authority figures, cops in particular. And the bitch of it was that he actually understood. But what would she say if he told her he’d have done the same thing? It wasn’t something he wanted to find out. But he couldn’t let it go completely.
“You know that the system—”
“Don’t.”
He glanced at her, but she was staring straight ahead, her jawline tense like she was gritting her teeth.
“Don’t say it. I know the system helps a lot of kids. I know the rules are there for a reason, and more good happens than bad. And I know firsthand there are wonderful foster homes and families out there. But none of that changes how I felt, then and now.”
She turned and looked at him. “My problem is that they followed the rules rather than listen. All they had to do was listen. I was ten. I wasn’t an infant. My mom was a good mom. Our house was clean, nice. It was a home that she worked hard to maintain. I was well fed, well cared for, well loved. She never left me alone, not even for a minute. She’d never even so much as left me in the car while she put gas in it.
“What happened that day wasn’t her fault, and she made sure nothing like it could ever happen again. Even the officers who did listen couldn’t do anything about it. They had to follow their guidelines. They got my case pushed through all the hoops as fast as they could because they knew I belonged back home with my mom. And I’m grateful to those people. But that’s my issue. I get that those guidelines are needed. I really do. But they shouldn’t be so all-encompassing that they overshadow everything else. There are exceptions to every rule.”