Twisted and Tied (Marshals 4) - Page 53

His glare was back. “When did he tell you that I grew up on a ranch in Wyoming?”

Pivoting, I ignored him and went into Custodial’s office, and six pairs of eyes were on me as Prescott came out of what was, in fact, now my office.

“Are you okay to be here?” she asked me solemnly, and I saw the worry in her gaze. Unlike with Kelson, I could read emotions in her eyes. “I would be curled up in a ball in the corner of a room.”

I gave her a game smile. “I’ve had Craig Hartley in my life longer than some people have been married. It’s no big deal.”

She gaped as she stared at me.

“And even if it was, being scared doesn’t help anything.”

“True,” she granted. “But are you sure you want to start in with all of this today? I mean, Jones, you’ve had one hell of a morning.”

“Compared to being kidnapped and tortured by the man, it was a walk in the park.”

Sometimes I forgot being honest could be dicey. Now and again people got freaked out by how normally I treated things that were not so easy for others to deal with, like, for instance, serial killers. But truly it wasn’t that I was so used to the idea of a nightmare of Chicago’s past being a part of my life. It was that on a day-to-day basis, I didn’t think about him. I didn’t worry I was being stalked; I let go of that fear years ago. I never thought Hartley was the type to walk up behind me in a crowd, pull the trigger, and blow my brains out. If he was going to kill me, he’d make me squirm first like a worm on the end of a hook. I knew that firsthand.

“I… don’t—I can’t even begin to imagine what—”

“We really need to get out and see the kids,” I told her. “We need to get interviews started today, and I want to meet my team.”

She was staring at me, trying to figure me out, searching for the correct response. But there wasn’t one, and I saw her pull herself together.

“May I please meet everyone?” I asked to give her something to think about besides Hartley.

“Of course,” she agreed as people got up from their desks.

I ORDERED the entire office into the field to get the home visits done as quickly as possible because I was more than worried about the kids who’d been in former Director Cullen’s care. In theory, six people in three teams of two, along with me and Redeker, could make a serious dent in the home visits even on the first day. Maureen insisted I call her by her given name and that she could do visits as well, but someone needed to man the desk in the department, and she still had Cullen’s paperwork to sort through. She finally agreed that since she knew what red flags to look for, she was the logical choice to remain.

“I’ve assigned you one of the top social workers I know, and she’ll join you at the first home. I emailed her over your schedule for the day.”

“Thank you,” I told her.

“No, thank you, Marshal. Already—just in the care you’re showing, in your zeal to get started and not waste any time—you’re a vast improvement over Sebreta Cullen.”

Anyone would have been a step up from mediocrity. I just wanted to make a difference in the lives of the children as quickly as possible.

“Why Custodial?” Redeker asked as he drove us toward the Fuller Park neighborhood on the South Side. “Don’t you want to move up?”

“I want to help take care of kids,” I told him, watching the world go by outside the Ford Expedition delegated for the use of the director of Custodial WITSEC. It had government plates and was painted metallic gray instead of black. I was excited, and Redeker was confused until I explained about the first-come, first-serve way the marshals’ office found cars at our disposal. He was horrified when I told him about Ian and me in a carnation-pink Cabriolet.

“Maybe you should be a foster parent,” Redeker suggested after a few minutes of silence.

“What?”

“Being a foster parent would let you get out all those feelings of wanting to take care of people, and you could still work your job.”

But making sure that a lot of kids were in good places, not just me nurturing one, seemed like a better fit for me. I wasn’t sure I could be anyone’s father because while I knew I was a caretaker, could tell from how I wanted to shield Josue, Cabot, and Drake and direct their lives, put my two cents in even when it wasn’t asked for, I also knew just because I could didn’t mean I had to.

Some people were made to be parents. For others, it grew out of their love for their partner, the desire to share more with them. Some people who were parents shouldn’t have been, some too selfish, while others simply wanted to heed the call of the open road or the sea, to travel, to be free, to lead, to create change, or a million other pursuits that did not include parenthood. Being a father wouldn’t complete me. It wouldn’t make me whole; I already was. My dream was to be the best man I could be, the best friend, colleague, uncle, and most of all, husband. Loving Ian took all the parts inside that had been cold and dreary and made them happy and warm and light. But it was hard to explain. How did I say to Redeker that, for me, the natural progression of my marriage was not to a child because already my heart was content? I had Ian, I had the girls, I even had the boys. I was full up. People could look at me and say, “You would make a good father,” but that didn’t mean that was what I wanted.

Tags: Mary Calmes Marshals Crime
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