Twisted and Tied (Marshals 4)

I grunted.

“So you’re saying that this is how fast this is supposed to work?”

“The marshals are a government agency,” I reminded her. “And so we’re at the mercy of the same bureaucratic red tape bullcrap that you are, but these are federal witnesses as well as children, so they go to the top of the list.”

She glanced over the paperwork I submitted. “How are you getting health care for the entire family?”

“It’s considered an environmental standard,” I explained. I’d been doing WITSEC intake paperwork for years. I knew how to work the system and in fact knew a few loopholes the others didn’t. I couldn’t count the times I’d been asked how to do something where benefits were concerned. I was especially vigilant about allowances for kids. “You cannot place a single witness into an environment where anything is out of the ordinary for said witness. So if he has full insurance, then the rest of the family must as well.”

“Wow” was all Macin could manage.

“If you put him in a home where everyone had to get around by car because the distance to school was too great, then we’d get him a car. Ernesto cannot stand out to anyone for any reason. Do you understand?”

“I do now,” she said, the awe clear in her voice and on her face as she stared at me. “It’s amazing what can get done when you have the right people in position.”

“I think—oh,” I said, laughing, having been startled by Monalisa and Conchita grabbing me at the same time.

“I can quit the second job,” Monalisa sighed happily. “Thank you, Marshal.”

“Let’s do some direct deposit paperwork now,” I said, taking my third empanada and handing Redeker his second.

By the time we left half an hour later, Monalisa had the first payment for Ernesto’s care in her bank account and temporary health insurance cards on her phone. As she hugged me, I told her the real ones would be mailed. It was a good start for the morning.

Unfortunately Redeker and Macin and I were in for a frightening status check in the next home out in Skokie. Kendra Paulson’s foster parents hadn’t seen her for a week, and they hadn’t reported it because they were certain she just ran away as, Mrs. Paulson said, “girls like her do.”

“What kind of girls are those?” Macin asked her pointedly.

“Like you,” Mrs. Paulson spat. “Black.”

Macin pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m calling the police, Jones,” she explained, visibly annoyed at my question.

“You don’t need to do that.”

She opened her mouth to protest but stopped as Redeker pulled out his cuffs.

“We’re full-service ride-along,” I informed her.

Her face brightened as Redeker cuffed Mr. and Mrs. Paulson before he called the office and got ahold of Sharpe.

“Is this legal?” Mrs. Paulson asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Redeker told her snidely. “You get arrested for neglect of a minor in the great state of Illinois. Now where is Kendra’s room?”

She appeared utterly flummoxed, and her husband was too drunk to have any idea what was going on.

Kendra’s room had a broken window, mouse and roach traps on the ground, and no radiator. I could only imagine how cold it got in there in the dead of winter. While Redeker and Macin remained with the Paulsons, I searched the room. I checked the ceiling, behind the pipes, but found nothing. And then it hit me, and I walked back out the living room.

“Did the school call you?”

“What?” Mrs. Paulson snarled.

“Did the school call you?” I asked again, enunciating each word.

“No, why the fuck would they do that?”

I looked at Macin. “Let’s go. Redeker will stay here and wait for Skokie PD, and then he can join us at… lemme look,” I said, opening the binder I’d carried in with me.

“Denning,” Macin offered. “The school is Denning.”

“Is it close?”

“Fifteen minutes away,” she informed me.

We were out the door in seconds.

THE SCHOOL had no idea there was an issue because Kendra had not missed a day. When we pulled her out of class to talk to her, I saw a bruise on her jaw.

“Is that from Mr. Paulson, or Mrs.?”

Stunned, she stared at me like I was speaking Greek.

“Kendra?”

“Mr. Paulson,” she answered quickly.

I saw Macin make a note of that.

Kendra was tall for her age, with big brown eyes, expressive dark eyebrows, and a silver nose ring. Her afro had natural highlights in it, and I liked the sprinkle of freckles across her nose.

Quick clearing of her throat before she checked my face, as though making sure I was for real. “So what, you took over for Mrs. Cullen?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the new her.”

“Well, I’m me, but yes.”

She coughed. “And you’ll believe me when I tell you that the Paulsons are terrible, awful people?” She was testing my resolve, sounding bored, but the way she was chewing on her bottom lip gave her away.