Adopted Son

“Did I mention that Nicole is a very good liar and knew how to put on a show? I love my kid. My kid is the most important part of my life. Yada. Yada. Yada. Once the caseworker leaves, she’s hitting the bars looking for guys and drugs. And the kid is usually left home by himself, or worse, taken along. We just never could catch her at it—until it was too late. We have so many cases it’s difficult to keep a constant vigil on these girls.”

Tuck knew that. It was just a sad scenario that the kids were the ones who paid. “How’s Brady this morning?”

“He was so violent in the E.R. that they had to sedate him. He was just scared. They checked his vitals, started an IV and did blood work. Nobody knows how long he’s been neglected and we have no idea what he’s been eating. He could have even been drinking from the toilet.”

Tuck winced.

“I’ve seen it before. He may only be fourteen months old but even at that age a kid fights for survival. He could have digested nonfood items, even toxic items. They’re testing for drug exposure, anemia and lead poisoning. The main concern was dehydration, so that’s the reason for the IV. They want to keep his electrolytes under control. Since his sores are infected, they’ve started a round of antibiotics through the IV.”

“What’s going to happen to him?”

“I’m on my way to talk to Wilma. I know she won’t be able to take him, but there might be a relative who wants to raise him.” Opal threw the strap of her big purse over her shoulder. “How would you like to come with me, Ranger Tucker? Get an up close and personal view of life’s real fairy tales.”

“I’d love to, but first I’d like to take a look at Brady, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. Follow me.”

They walked across the hall to a room full of baby beds. A large glass window gave the nurses a clear view of each crib from the nurses’ station. Two nurses were attending to the needs of children with various ailments. Opal stopped at a bed against the wall.

Tuck removed his hat and stared down at Brady. He lay on his stomach, completely naked except for a small blanket covering his upper body. His bottom was bloodred and had ointment spread over it.

“They’ll put a diaper on him as soon as he wakes up,” Opal said. “They’ve debrided his wounds and applied a barrier cream.”

Brady’s hair had been shaved off and Tuck saw the infected sores on his scalp, too. He fought the anger churning in his stomach.

Opal glanced at him. “They had to shave his head to clean the sores and remove dead tissue. There are sores between his toes, too. It had been a while since he’d had a bath.”

Tuck kept staring at the little boy. He slept peacefully, as a baby should. At that moment Tuck vowed that Brady would have a decent home and never be neglected again.

WILMA HARPER LIVED in the projects on a cul-de-sac. Tuck parked his car and followed Opal inside the brick duplex. A neighbor and a hospice nurse were there. Wilma sat in a recliner with an oxygen tank beside her, gasping for every breath. She’d been told of her daughter’s death and held a box of Kleenex in one hand, her eyes red.

In her early forties, Wilma looked twice her age. Her pallid skin, skeletal frame and sunken eyes denoted a woman who was terminally ill.

Tuck and Opal sat on a worn brown sofa. He took in the room. The walls were made of cinder blocks and painted a pale tan, which was yellowing. Linoleum squares of the same color covered the floor. Some of the floor had eroded from wear, leaving the stark concrete visible.

Opal was right. This was the flip side of a fairy tale.

“How’s Brady?” Wilma immediately asked Opal.

“He’s going to be fine,” Opal replied, and introduced Tuck.

“This is all my fault,” Wilma wailed, then sucked in a whiff of oxygen.

“No, it isn’t,” Opal told her. “Nicole is your daughter and you trusted her.”

“I spoiled her. That’s the problem.”

“Ms. Harper,” Tuck spoke up. “We’re trying to do the best thing for Brady now.”

“Yes.” Wilma sniffed. “I want that, too.”

“Is there a relative who might be able to take Brady?”

Wilma shook her head. “My relatives are…struggling to make ends meet. I can’t think of anyone…who can give Brady the kind of care he needs.”

“What about Brady’s father’s family?” Opal asked.

Wilma took a breath of oxygen. “After Braden’s death, his parents divorced and remarried. They have new families and…I don’t think they’d be willing to take him.”

The hospice nurse handed Wilma a glass of water and she sipped at it, her hands shaking. “I wish I could take him. He needs me.” Tears rolled from her eyes.

The neighbor, a black lady in her thirties, rubbed her arm. “Don’t get upset, Wilma.”

“My baby girl is dead,” Wilma wheezed, and sucked in more oxygen. “Seems like yesterday she was watching cartoons and eating Fruit Loops.”

“I know,” the lady consoled her.

Wilma gasped for air then looked directly at Tuck. “Please find someone to love my grandson. He deserves that.”

Tuck’s throat felt dry. “I promise, ma’am. I’ll make sure he has the best home possible.”

“Thank you,” Wilma whispered. “And make sure he has his stuffed dog. He carries it everywhere…and sleeps with it.”

Tuck and Opal eyed each other. “What does the dog look like?” Tuck asked.

“It’s blue and made out of that really soft fabric.”

He stood. “I’ll see that he has it.” Tuck twisted his hat in his hand. “I’m real sorry about your daughter, Mrs. Harper.”

Outside, Opal eyed him. “You really meant that, didn’t you?”

“Sure.” Tuck placed his hat on his head. “It’s sad when anyone dies like Nicole did.”

“Yeah, but I was talking about the dog.”

“Yes, ma’am, I meant that, too.” Tuck fell in step beside Opal. “I’ll find the dog and I’ll make sure Brady gets a decent home. He’s been through enough.”

“I’ll put some feelers out. There are always couples looking for small children. In the meantime I guess I’d better track down the father’s family.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll handle that.”

“Mind?” Opal lifted an eyebrow. “You’re like an angel sent from above. You’re certainly a cut above other law enforcement officers I’ve worked with.”

“I was left as an infant, so I know what getting a good home means.”

“Well, bless my soul, aren’t you something?” Opal stopped in her tracks. “You’re one of a kind, Jeremiah Tucker. It’s good to remember where you come from, and it’s even better to give some of it back.”

“Thanks, Opal. I’ll call when I have any news.”