The Baby Cop

Dani Hargreaves stepped forward. “Nikki heard you stand up for me, Ms. Grant. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. I thought you were the one trying to have me fired. I should’ve known it was Piggot. All he ever thinks about is dollars and cents. Never about staff workloads or client services.”

“Yeah,” said a soft-spoken male caseworker Regan had only seen at the monthly meetings. Jeff Perez, she thought his name was. “Piggot expects us to run the third-largest welfare department in the state on a shoestring. But if you examine the last four yearly budgets, you’ll see he wangled himself a substantial raise.”

Regan had hoped, with time and hard work, to gain the respect and trust of her co-workers. She felt uncomfortable doing it at the expense of the man who’d hired her. “Look, the conversation some of you overheard should have been conducted in private. I regret that it wasn’t. I think it’s obvious there are some things beyond our control. Our primary mission is to pull together for the good of the families we serve. Now if you’ll excuse me, please, I believe we all have work waiting.” Regan hurried off, feeling numerous pairs of eyes follow her until she entered her office and shut the door.

Nathaniel’s verbal attack had caught her off guard. She was more shaken than anyone back there realized. Regan knew it was due in part to old tapes playing in her head. Her mother, before she’d finally left Regan and her dad, had been extremely critical. So had Jack after she’d moved in with him. Darn, she thought she’d come out of all that unscathed.

She made her way to the washroom. Grasping the rim of the sink with both hands, Regan stared at herself in the mirror. Except for the faint white scars, she looked like any one of a million other thirty-one-year-old professional women. The scars were noticeable, but they were only skin deep. Only skin deep.

Leaving the room, Regan swiftly bundled up the files she needed. She turned off the overhead light, locked the door and exited the building. When she reached her five-year-old Honda Accord, she’d rid herself of the effect of Nathaniel’s threat. Still, after she slid into the driver’s seat, she leaned her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. Just to subdue any lingering lapse of control. She’d worked too hard over the years to conquer her insecurities; she refused to fall into the trap again. It wasn’t only the years of therapy she’d undergone after the dog’s attack. She’d studied psychology to learn what really made people tick. Especially what made her tick.

She’d succeeded, too, until her poor judgment with regard to Jack Diamond. Their public fight, followed by an abrupt move and the added pressure of a new job, had probably sapped her reserves. To say nothing of the unexpected run-in with Ethan Knight and his scary dog. Today’s altercation with her boss was sort of a last straw.

But she’d survived last straws before, and Regan vowed to do it again. She was not the person she’d been twenty years ago, when a neighbor stood up in court and announced to a jury that Regan Grant was a weird kid with her light eyes. The man her family thought was a friend urged people to shun them. Which the whole town did.

Even her own mother had taken off.

Regan had begged her father not to sue the dog’s owner. Other kids had mercilessly teased the poodle. Not her, but others who walked the same route to school.

To her dad, how people viewed her didn’t matter. With him, it was about winning. The court ruled in her favor and had the dog destroyed. Neighbors were incensed. Ultimately her father had to use the settlement to send her out of state to boarding school or risk something worse than a dog attack. His business suffered, and he had to sell out. He said he didn’t blame her, but Regan was never fully certain.

Lifting her head, she gripped the wheel, sat back and turned the ignition key. That was all behind her. No one in Desert City, Arizona, knew that kid from Ohio. Mostly Regan managed to keep those old feelings buried deep.

Everything, including the incident with Piggot, was relegated to the back of her mind when Regan parked in the visitors’ lot at Roadrunner High School. Regan was the picture of professionalism when she presented her credentials to a secretary.

“I’ll have to check with the principal before I call Jeremy out of class. Is he in trouble?” the woman asked.

Regan smiled. “No. The agency has received some news that may affect his future. I’ll be happy to speak with the principal first.”

The principal, Carla Rodriguez, invited Regan into her office. “This is Jeremy’s first year with us,” she said. “And he’s already our star J.V. basketball forward. I hope your urgent business isn’t going to move him out of our school.”

“I shouldn’t think so. You do need to be aware of the situation, though. Sometimes matters of this nature cause youths to act out inappropriately.” Regan recapped the plight of Jeremy’s birth mother. She also mentioned the prospect of his being adopted by the Knights. “That isn’t a sure thing,” Regan added.

“It would be wonderful if Elaine and Joe did adopt him.” The principal smiled warmly. “I attended high school and college with Amy Knight. Her parents had a revolving door for troubled kids. They’ve worked miracles with quite a few boys and girls, Jeremy included.”