Sugar Pine Trail - RaeAnne Thayne Haven Point

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      “Clint. I need to talk to your mom. Is she here?”

      He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No. She must be working.”

      “Where does she work? Can you give me her work phone number?”

      He said nothing and she tried again.

      “Does she have a cell phone number I could call?” she asked.

      “You could try, but she’s not answering.”

      His voice broke on the last word, but he clamped his mouth together tightly, as if afraid that once he started talking, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

      Something terrible was going on here. She still didn’t know what, but she suddenly knew she couldn’t stop until she found out.

      She uttered a fervent prayer that she could figure out the best way to reach him. Somehow she sensed he would respond better if she were on his level, so she knelt down and took one of his cold hands in hers.

      “Clinton,” she said softly. “How long since you’ve seen your mother?”

      He hitched in a ragged breath, eyes wide. She could see he didn’t want to answer her, but his fingers curled in hers, and she saw all his bravado begin to crumble. Tears welled up in his eyes, and one trickled down the side of his nose.

      “Friday. She had a doctor’s appointment at the army hospital place in Boise, and she...she didn’t come back. And the furnace is out, and I don’t know how to make it work, and I tried to start a fire, but I couldn’t do that either. It’s cold everywhere except in here with the space heater.”

      “You said she’s not answering her phone?”

      He shook his head. “I tried and tried and tried to call her, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to do so I just took care of Davy the best I could, and we spent the days at school and the library, where it was warm and safe.”

      “Oh, honey.”

      Four days they had been on their own. She couldn’t imagine what he had been going through. He was only eight years old, far too young for that kind of responsibility.

      He sniffled again, and it was too much. Heart breaking, she held out her arms. “Come here. Come here.”

      He sagged against her, as if sharing the burden he had been carrying had left him boneless and exhausted.

      “Please, don’t call the cops. If you do, we’ll go to foster care, and they’ll split us up.”

      “I have to call someone, honey. Children aren’t supposed to be left alone for days at a time.”

      “Please, don’t. Just go.” He slid away from her and stood looking fearful and impossibly young.

      “I can’t do that,” she said softly. “You know I can’t. You need help, and I have a good friend whose job is to help children in just this kind of situation. I’m going to call her, and she’ll fix things.”

      He didn’t look convinced as she hit her speed dial for Wynona Emmett, who used to be a police officer but was now a social worker with the state child welfare agency.

      As she waited for Wyn to answer, Julia had the uncomfortable realization that an hour ago, her biggest problem was a lingering hangover and the stupid crush she had on the neighbor upstairs.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      “WHAT’S GOING TO happen to them?” Through the kitchen doorway, Julia eyed the two little boys sitting side by side on the tattered, raggedy sofa.

      Since the moment Wynona Emmett showed up, Clinton had been visibly—and audibly—upset, full of accusations and pleas for them to go away. Davy mostly seemed confused, though he took his cues from his brother and sniffed every once in a while.

      Julia felt horrible about the whole situation. Maybe she shouldn’t have gotten involved, should have simply looked the other way.

      How could she have, though? Any person with an ounce of compassion would have done the same thing she had, called in the state’s department of child welfare. If ever two children’s welfare needed looking after, it was Clint’s and Davy’s.

      The boys couldn’t stay here in this cold, cheerless house. Their mother was nowhere in evidence, and it looked as if they hadn’t had a decent meal in days.

      “I don’t know what will happen to them,” Wynona admitted. Her eyes were soft with compassion as she looked through the doorway at the boys. “They’ll go into foster care, definitely, probably a short-term facility in Boise for now, until we can find a longer-term placement.”

      “So they’ll have to leave their friends and their teachers? While we were waiting for you, Clinton was so pleased to tell me about how well he’s doing in school.”

      “I wish I could find something closer to Haven Point. Believe me, there’s nothing I would love more. It would be better, all the way around. But local foster families are in short supply, especially this time of year when the need outpaces the available resources. There is a chance I could place one of them in the area, but not both.”

      Out in the living room, Clint put an arm around his brother, who had started to sob—whether from fear or exhaustion, she didn’t know.

      “You’ll have to split them up?”

      “Most likely,” Wyn admitted. Julia could tell she wasn’t any happier about that idea than Julia. Wyn’s expression plainly conveyed her frustration with the situation.

      “Any idea where the mother might be?”

      “We’ve put out a BOLO on her. Be on the lookout. Sorry. I forget not everybody knows cop-speak.”

      “I watch TV occasionally,” Julia said. “I know what a BOLO means.”

      “She never showed up for her appointment at the VA. We’ve been able to figure that much out.”

      Wyn gave a careful look toward the boys, then turned her body away and spoke in a low voice. “I really hope we can locate her. Her counselor at the VA couldn’t tell us much because of privacy laws. Reading between the lines, though, it sounds like Mikaela Slater has been struggling the last few weeks.”

      “Oh, I hope she’s okay. They’ve already lost their father. I hate thinking they might lose their mother, too. What about extended family? Clint told me the boys lived with an aunt and uncle while their parents were both deployed.”

      “It might take us some time to track them down. Clinton says they’re working in a country that starts with an A or an I. He couldn’t remember which one. That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

      In the other room, Davy sobbed, and Clint patted his back and said something to him.

      Julia’s distress must have shown on her features. Wyn reached out and squeezed her arm. “You did the right thing, honey. You know you had no choice. I’ll see the boys find a good placement.”

      “You’ll let me know what happens?”

      “Absolutely. I won’t know anything definite until tomorrow anyway. Tonight they’ll go to the temporary facility in Shelter Springs, where they’ll be well taken care of, I promise.”

      “Thank you.”

      Wyn squeezed her arm again, and Julia recognized the gesture as one of both comfort and dismissal. Wyn had more important things to do than allay her concerns.

      Feeling helpless and superfluous, Julia walked out into the living room to say goodbye to the boys.

      Before she could open her mouth, Clinton threw her a look of deep mistrust.

      “This is your fault,” he said, voice vibrating with anger and his

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