A Nest of Sparrows Page 12

  “They’re not here.” Wade stepped off the porch and went to stand on the opposite side of the sedan. “You should know I’ve filed for legal guardianship of the children. If you have any questions, you can contact my attorney.”

  A muscle twitched in Parnell’s jaw. He leaned over the sedan. “And you should know, Mr. Sullivan, that you’re not the only one who has a lawyer. I just spoke with my attorney, who assures me I have every right to my own flesh and blood. I’ll contest your filing, and if necessary, we’ll get a court order forcing you to turn my children over.”

  “Go right ahead and get that court order,” Wade told him, relieved that his voice came out sounding more confident than he felt. He jabbed a finger in Parnell’s direction and ground out his words. “Those kids will leave Coyote with you over my dead body.”

  Parnell sneered. “I think you underestimate the law, Sullivan. If you knew anything about it at all, you’d know that in this country the courts almost always rule in favor of natural parents.”

  “And that’s as it should be,” Wade said, “assuming the natural parents are fit to have custody. I’d think you’d realize––if you knew anything about the law at all––that in this country, abusive, neglectful parents almost always lose the right to raise their children.” Wade was winging it, and way out of his comfort zone, but he wasn’t about to let Parnell have the upper hand.

  “Where are my children?” Parnell blurted.

  “They’re someplace safe.”

  Parnell came around to the front of the car but stopped short of the porch. “I’m warning you, Sullivan. You’re only digging a deeper hole for yourself. I could have you arrested for kidnapping.”

  “My lawyer doesn’t seem to think so. The kids are in a safe place on his advice.”

  Darrin Parnell narrowed his eyes and pounded an impotent fist on the hood of the car. Without further comment, he went back around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel. He slammed the car door, revved the engine, and threw the car into reverse. Wade had to dodge the spray of dirt and gravel the sedan kicked up as it careened backward down the drive. Halfway down the curving lane, the car made a hasty three-point turn, then lurched out onto the blacktop, leaving gaping, muddy ruts at the edge of the lawn.

  A mindless soap opera droned on the television, and Sophie draped herself over the threadbare sofa. This job was going to kill her yet.

  She was just dozing off when a thunderous pounding on her door caused her to shoot upright, her heart thumping like a drum. She looked at the clock over the bookcase. It wasn’t yet five, still bright outside. What was going on?

  The pounding came again, louder.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered. She ran her fingers through her hair and tried to rub away the sleep marks she knew must line her face.

  She started to open the door but suddenly felt unaccountably cautious. She moved her hand from the doorknob and went quietly to the kitchen. Pulling the curtain aside, she blew out a stream of air. Darrin Parnell was standing on her doorstep.

  She went back to the door, unlocked it, and opened it a crack. “What do you want?”

  “Let me in, Sophie. I need to talk to you.”

  “I told you, I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “Let me see my kids.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. I know they’re here.”

  “No. They’re not.”

  He shoved the door into her, knocking her backward. He stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind him, towering over her menacingly.

  “What do you want?” she repeated, taking a step back.

  “Sit down,” Darrin ordered.

  Sophie remembered his temper well enough to know she was better off doing what he demanded. She slid onto a barstool at the narrow kitchen counter.

  Darrin strode down the hall to the back of the apartment, pushing open doors as he went.

  He came back to the kitchen and stood close enough she could smell his wintergreen chewing gum. “Where are they?” he demanded.

  “I told you, Darrin. I don’t know. I haven’t talked to Wade for a couple days,” she lied.

  He grabbed her forearm and wrenched it. His eyes held a terrifying gleam––one she remembered vividly now.

  He gave her arm another twist. “You lying little––”

  “Ouch! Stop it, Darrin!” Pain sliced through her elbow.

  He inflicted one last painful squeeze before releasing her. “Where would he have taken them?”

  She backed away, rubbing her forearm. “Darrin, I swear, I don’t know where they are. Have you been out to Wade’s place? Are you sure they’re not out there?” She backpedaled, desperately trying to buy time. She didn’t know where the kids were exactly. That much was true, though she could guess where Wade might have taken them.

  “No. They’re not out there. But don’t worry. I’ll find them.”

  Sudden anger supplanted Sophie’s fear. “And what are you going to do when you find them? The kids are happy with Wade, Darrin. If you really cared about them like you say, you’d leave them be.”

  “And what would you know about it, Sophie?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I’m taking them back with me. I don’t care what anybody says. They’re my kids, and I’m not leaving this town without them.”

  “Good luck, then,” she shot back.

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She swallowed hard and glared at him. “Just so you know, the SRS was out to Wade’s yesterday, and they assured him everything looked good. They’ll be on Wade’s side.”

  “I thought you hadn’t talked to him,” he said.

  She ignored his challenge, chagrined at being caught in her lie. “They did one of those home studies or whatever they’re called. Wade passed with flying colors, so he’s got SRS to back him up,” she repeated. As soon as the words were out, a startling thought came to her. She eyed him suspiciously. “It was you, wasn’t it. You’re the one who reported Wade.”

  “Reported him? What do you mean?”

  “To SRS? Did you turn him in?”

  Darrin’s head came up. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. SRS paid a little visit to Sullivan because somebody turned him in?” A smug smile came to his face. “Oh, that is rich. That is just rich,” he said, running his toe along the dented metal carpet strip dividing the kitchen from the living room.

  “He’s got the state behind him, Darrin. Good luck fighting that,” she said, uncomfortably aware that her words fell flat.

  Darrin cocked his head and scrutinized her. “What are you saying? Is Sullivan trying to adopt the kids? Legally?”

  “Yes…that’s it,” she said. Maybe that would shut him down.

  “It’s probably the only way he can get to her money.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Starr didn’t have any money. Thanks to you, she had three kids to feed by herself.”

  He ignored her, and when he spoke again, it was as though he’d forgotten she was in the room. “Starr would have had a life insurance policy where she worked… She surely wasn’t foolish enough to put it in Wade’s name.”

  Sophie didn’t know if her sister had an insurance policy or not. Shoot, she didn’t even know if she had one herself through the café. She’d never been good with business stuff the way Starr had. But Wade had never mentioned a policy, and heaven knew he complained enough about how much the kids were costing him.

  It was ironic. Finances weren’t Wade’s forte, and Starr had always said that was the one thing Darrin was good at. He was a good salesman. And he knew how to work the system. They’d had a nice house in Minneapolis. Before she left Darrin, Starr had been able to buy nice clothes and get her hair done whenever she felt like it. Sophie had been jealous of her sister’s good fortune.

  Until the first time Darrin put Starr in the emergency room. Starr was so angry, she’d told
Sophie she wished he would die so she could collect on all the life insurance he’d amassed. Though she’d never said as much to her sister, at the time Sophie wondered if Darrin had a big enough policy out on his wife that he might someday decide she was worth more to him dead than alive.

  Darrin’s voice broke through her dark thoughts. “If that woman ever learned anything from me in all the years I tried to put some sense into her head, she probably had a nice little policy or two squirreled away. No doubt Sullivan’s already tapped into those.”

  Again, his voice drifted, and Sophie knew he wasn’t really speaking to her anymore.

  “Starr was living paycheck to paycheck, Darrin. Wade was pitching in with some of the bills. He’s struggling to pay them all now.”

  “So he tells you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Think about it, Sophie. It’s probably all a big act. You’re the last one Sullivan is going to tell if Starr was worth a hundred grand. He would know you’d be trying to get your sticky fingers on it. God knows you can’t support that habit of yours on what you make as a waitress, and besides––”

  “Shut up, Darrin. I don’t do that stuff anymore.”

  He held his hands palm out and grinned. “Okay, okay. So you said. But think about it, babe. You think he’s going to advertise it if he struck it rich off Starr? No. He’s probably sitting out there in that nice big house of his, biding his time, watching the interest rack up.”

  “Wade’s not like that,” Sophie said. But she heard the lack of conviction in her own voice. It had never crossed her mind that Starr had left anything but liabilities when she died. According to Wade, even her car still had a lien on it.

  According to Wade.

  Darrin’s comments set her mind awhirl. Maybe Wade wasn’t being totally upfront with her. Maybe he had collected on some insurance and, as Darrin suspected, just didn’t want her to have any claim to it. Heaven knew every man she’d ever known had lied to her face. Did she really think Wade Sullivan would be any different?

  Chapter 18

  A furnace blast of heat met Dee Thackery when she opened her car door. Spring had been a mere blip on the calendar this year, and it was looking like a long, hot summer ahead.

  Sliding behind the steering wheel, she turned the key in the ignition and punched the air conditioner on. It would barely cool off the interior of the car before she got home, but there was something psychologically satisfying about seeing that little glowing light marked AC.

  She eased out of St. Joseph’s cramped parking lot and onto the quiet, tree-lined street. Maybe she’d stop by Sonic on the way home and get something cool to drink. She quickly dismissed the idea, remembering that Clay Two Feathers had mentioned doing the same. The last thing she needed was to encourage that man. Though she had to admit Clay had been a sweetheart lately.

  He’d been someone to lean on when she found out Willy and LaShondra Green were being sent to the children’s home, in spite of all her efforts to find them an alternate place to stay after foster care fell through.

  Dee understood how difficult it was to be foster parents. There were many reasons why it sometimes just didn’t work out. And with the increase of government regulations, foster parents were becoming more difficult to recruit all the time.

  Turning onto her street, Dee instinctively began her ritual of taking inventory of her blessings. Seeing her house at the end of the narrow brick avenue was always a good reminder. The single-story bungalow was no more than a cottage, really, but it was perfect for her. Anytime she started to doubt God’s care for her, she needed only to remember the way events had fallen into place for her to come to Coyote, to live in this house and work at the job she loved.

  These days, she had a lot to be thankful for. Her life had pretty much been a mess from the time her parents divorced when she was nine. Her mother had remarried just months later to a man Dee would later learn had been waiting in the wings. She’d seldom seen her dad after the divorce, and she’d missed him terribly.

  But her stepfather was a charmer, never raising his voice to her and spoiling her with new clothes and trips to the mall or the amusement parks Dad had never seemed to have time for.

  Mick Cranston had eventually won Dee over. But the summer she’d turned eleven, Mick’s attentions had turned into something she didn’t understand. The clothes he bought her seemed more suited for someone older. And he was always touching her and hugging her––but not the way other girls’ fathers hugged them. Mick’s hugs and caresses made her feel like she’d done something wrong.

  The busier Mom got at her job, working late two or three nights a week and most Saturdays, the more Mick’s affections turned to Dee. By the time she was old enough to realize what was happening, Mick had taken liberties with her that she would regret for the rest of her life.

  Finally, on her thirteenth birthday she got up the courage to tell her mother. At first Mom refused to believe her, but finally Peg Cranston couldn’t deny the evidence Dee presented. Dee never knew what transpired between her mother and stepfather after that, but the abuse stopped immediately. When her mother divorced Mick less than two years later, Dee felt equal parts relief and guilt.

  She had escaped––barely––with her virginity. And for that she was grateful. On good days, she could almost appreciate her past, for it had led to her future. God had used the tragic circumstances of her childhood to instill in her a deep compassion for children who suffered at the hands of imposters pretending to be parents the way Mick had pretended to be her father.

  As she’d worked toward her degree in social work, she’d learned many things that helped her cope with what had happened to her. Through the counsel of the campus pastor and his wife, Dee had discovered a faith that enabled her to forgive Mick––and her mother. And now she found real meaning in helping children through similar trials.

  Sadly, she’d seen it over and over again in the three short years she’d practiced her profession. Sometimes the enormity of it all overwhelmed her. But if all the tears she’d shed, all the doubts she’d harbored, could save even one child from a fate like her own, it had been worth it.

  Pulling into the driveway, she shook her head to clear away the disquieting thoughts. Where had those come from in the midst of her litany of thanks? The bottom line was that God had taken the worst thing in her life and used it to bring about the best.

  She pulled under the shade of the carport at the side of the house and turned off the ignition, rolling her window down a few inches against the heat. Gathering her briefcase and bag from the backseat of the car, she went in through the side door.

  Phog, her smoke-colored tomcat, greeted her in the kitchen with a comical meow that sounded more like a dog’s hap.

  “Hey, buddy, did you miss me?”

  The cat wove in and out between Dee’s feet, leaving a haze of gray fur on her good white pants.

  “Phog! Aargh. Cut it out.” She brushed at her pants to no avail, but she couldn’t muster enough fury in her voice to make the cat do anything but purr and rub harder against her.

  Dee laughed and gave him a good scratching under the chin. Going into the kitchen, she deposited her briefcase and purse on the desk chair and went to lift the lid off the Crock-Pot. The spicy twang of her homemade barbecue sauce filled the kitchen. She’d invited her elderly neighbors for dinner tonight. Donald and Jewel Frederick had unofficially adopted her as the granddaughter they’d never had. Dee looked at the clock over the stove. The dear couple would be here in an hour. She’d better get a move on.

  Yes. She had much for which to be grateful.

  Almost a week went by, and Wade lived every day of it on the knife-edge of fear. Every time the phone rang or whenever he heard a car drive by, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. But the only place Darrin Parnell showed up was in Wade’s recurring nightmares.

  He seriously considered taking the kids out of state somewhere until this all blew over. But he couldn
’t very well leave Pete high and dry with the business, and Frank Locke probably would have advised against him leaving town, anyway. It might be perceived as an attempt to kidnap the children. According to Locke, until they had an edict from the judge, he needed to tread carefully where the kids were concerned.

  Wade called Frank Locke’s office almost every day over his lunch hour, only to be repeatedly assured that the guardianship action was in process––whatever that meant––and that he would be notified the minute there was anything new to report.

  The kids spent three days with the Doleceks before Wade decided he wasn’t about to let Parnell dictate their lives. He thanked Pete and Margie, packed up the kids’ things, and took them home. The kids didn’t even gripe when he made macaroni and cheese for dinner.

  It was after eleven before Sophie finally got her last rowdy table out the door. She clocked out and went to retrieve her purse from under the counter.

  “Hey, Lydia,” she hollered across the dining room, where her co-worker was refilling the saltshakers. “You need a ride home tonight?”

  Lydia screwed a metal lid on a shaker and looked up at Sophie. “Huh-uh. Thanks anyway, but Bobby’s picking me up.”

  “You better watch it, girl. Next thing you know you’ll find yourself married to that guy.”

  “Hey, I can dream, can’t I?” Lydia quipped, echoing the song winding down on the jukebox.

  “Sure you can. Just remember, sooner or later you’ve gotta wake up.” Sophie waved. “See you tomorrow. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Ha! That leaves the field pretty wide open.”

  “Hey! Not nice.”

  Lydia laughed and waved off Sophie’s good-natured protest.

  Searching her purse for her car keys, Sophie headed out the door. The parking lot was still littered with a few cars, most likely late-night patrons of the liquor store next door. It amused Sophie to see people park “undercover” at the café before casually moseying over to buy their hooch.

  She walked around the south side of the building where her old Plymouth was parked. Clouds blocked the moon, and the streetlights that illumined the parking lot were obscured in the shadow of the building.