Dan stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Kidnapping. . . illegal. Kidnapping. . . bad. Kidnapping. . . jail. Jail. . . not fun. Still, if you had a good lawyer, and a good excuse. . .
The phone rang and he lunged for it, but he caught his hand before he picked up the receiver. He remembered that he might not want to hear what the person on the other end might tell him, and he remembered why.
Tentatively, Dan picked up the phone. �Hello?�
�Hi, honey.� It was Nora. She sounded tired. �I�m at the hospital. With Ike.�
Dan couldn�t help grinning. �What did you do? Who did you tell off?�
�I was diplomatic,� Nora told him. �Really.�
�How�s Ike?� Dan ventured.
There was a silence. Nora took a deep breath. �I don�t know,� she whispered. �Dan. . . it�s bad.�
Dan let out a long breath. �They can�t do anything?�
�Not much more than they have been,� Nora admitted. �All we can do now is wait and see if it works.�
�You�re not giving up. . .� Dan hedged, quietly.
�No.� Nora tried to sound as certain as she could. �No, I�m not.�
She had told Isaac it was okay, though. She could sense how tired he was, and she wasn�t sure if he had what he would need to fight his way back. She knew he was holding on, though, maintaining whatever tenuous grip on life he�d been able to find. She�d told him it was all right if he was too tired to do that anymore. She didn�t want him to feel that he�d failed. She was worried that that was what he might be thinking.
�Zac!� Mr. Jordan was beaming. �I have some good news!�
Zac looked up at him. He hoped the good news was that they were leaving now. �What?�
�You don�t have to go to Trevorford after all!� The lenses of Mr. Jordan�s glasses glinted in the florescent light.
�I don�t?� Zac�s lower lip trembled. �But. . . I wanted to!�
�I thought you�d be happy,� Mr. Jordan was a bit miffed. �You can go back to your other foster family.�
Zac�s eyes blazed. �You said no more Galath!�
�No more Galath,� Mr. Jordan promised. �Your mother�s case worker was just on the phone. You can go back to live with the Conways.�
Blood had soaked through the puce colored dishtowel Taylor had found beneath the bathroom sink. He kept it wrapped around his hand. It hurt.
Aunt Miranda still hadn�t gotten up. He would be worried that she was dead, except that she was still breathing.
When the phone rang, Taylor almost didn�t answer it. Maybe he shouldn�t. It had been days since anybody had talked to him, though, and so he decided to pick up the receiver. Maybe he could just listen. Maybe they�d be selling something.
�Hello?� asked the voice on the other end. �Hello? This is Social Services. I�m calling for Miranda Hodson. Hello?�
Taylor didn�t say anything. He put the phone down on the counter, buried his head in his one good arm and cried.
As resolutely as Dan strode into the Child Welfare department late that afternoon, it wasn�t without caution that he scanned the room. He�d dashed out of the house as soon as he�d gotten the phone call, dashing back inside only when he realized he�d forgotten to put shoes on. It had been snowing for an hour and the roads were already horrible, but he had to force himself not to race as fast as he could, weaving in and out of rush-hour traffic, until he reached the Social Services building. When he arrived there, he tried to restrain his urge to run inside, but couldn�t quite stifle it, ending up with a sort of purposeful power walk, charging up the ice-coated steps at breakneck speed. He was sure that something would happen, that Kathleen would call back, another foster home would be found, or the social workers would lose Zac forever among the stacks of paperwork everyone was endlessly filling out.
Dan�s fears were unfounded, though. He couldn�t have described the relief that flooded through him as he spotted Zac perched on the edge of a chair that was pushed against the front of a brown laminate desk, his feet dangling several inches from the floor. One of his shoelaces was untied.
For a moment, Dan couldn�t move. As soon as Zac looked up and saw him, however, there was no need to.
�Dan!� Most of the time, it isn�t in your best interest to stand between a four year old and whatever it is that he wants, and this was no exception. Zac launched himself across the room heedless of desks, stacks of paper and human bodies. �You came back.�
Dan met him halfway. �I couldn�t come earlier. . . are you all right. . . I�m so sorry. . .�
Zac paused. �Were you worried?� he asked.
Dan nodded. �I was.�
�I was worried, too.� Zac tightened his grip around Dan�s neck. �I was scared I�d never see you again.�
�I�m here,� Dan assured him. �And after we sign some papers, we can leave.�
Zac was quiet for a moment. �Can we get Tay?�
Dan grinned. �We can!�
Taylor heard the knocking on the door. �Ms. Hodson? This is the child welfare department. Mrs. Hodson?�
Taylor peeked around the curtain that hung in the window next to the door, accidentally meeting the social worker�s eyes. He drew back quickly, but not quickly enough.
�Taylor?� asked the social worker. �Let me in, please.�
Taylor thought quickly. This person was a stranger. Was he supposed to let strangers into the house? Probably not. Still, whoever it was knew his name. Maybe they weren�t a stranger. Maybe they had a Band-Aid.
Taylor opened the door.