Dead Giveaway

things I could and couldn't say to people.'

'If she did ask about his foster care placement perhaps you told her that was confidential information?'

Roth's face brightened with realization. 'Foster care! That's it. She asked about becoming a foster parent.'

'Because she wanted to be Will's foster parent?' I recalled how Verna Mae had bristled when I brought up the subject.

'No... it was after he'd been placed, and if I recall, she never mentioned him. I don't think we ever put a child in her home, though.'

'Why was that?'

'Could be we lost her information during the breakin, along with the other things those vandals destroyed. Yes. In fact, I'm sure that's what happened. Funny she never reapplied...'

'Break-in?'

'I kept cash in the office—to help families buy diapers or groceries or pay rent. Emergency fund. Couple hundred dollars. CPS really does do good work trying to keep families together. Anyway, someone, or maybe more than one someone, broke in and stole the money. It wasn't a big secret I had petty cash, considering I handed out quite a bit throughout the county. Had to be young people responsible, because they trashed the place. Burned things, wrote graffiti on the wall. Adolescent acting-out, we presumed.'

'Must have been upsetting,' I said.

'Yes. What a mess they made. Even delayed that abandoned child's permanent placement. Everything was nearly finalized. His file went missing along with several others—probably burned, since we found a pile of ashes to go along with the spray-painted walls and overturned file cabinets.'

Now this was important. 'This happened after your visit from Verna Mae?'

'After. Like I said, her paperwork probably was destroyed, too.'

Destroyed because Verna Mae applied to be a foster parent to size up the place? Though I couldn't see her breaking and entering, she could have paid someone to steal Will's information. 'The police believed juveniles were the culprits? You don't think Verna Mae could have had anything to do with it?'

'She couldn't have knocked over those heavy cabinets. And those curse words on the wall? Had to be adolescents.'

'Other paperwork went missing, you say?'

'Yes. What a nightmare. Delayed several placements. I wasn't very good with all the paper I generated, anyway. Then to have files crumpled, destroyed, burned. Well, it set me back awhile. It's not like they give caseworkers a secretary.'

I asked a few more questions, but concluded I'd squeezed everything I could out of her. Besides, when she asked if I might like a job caring for children, I got out of there as quick as chained lightning with a snapped link. After I got behind the wheel of my car, I hunted in my bag for Burl's business card. I wanted to ask him if he had any knowledge of this so-called vandalism in the CPS office.

A dull throb had begun at the back of my skull, and I had a feeling the coffee withdrawal was beginning despite the green tea fixes. The thought of drinking even one sip of java still made my stomach flip over. Once I got back on the road, my first stop would be for a Diet Coke.

I found Burl's number, dialed his cell and said 'Hi' when he answered on the second ring. 'I could use a little help.'

'Shoot,' he answered, 'but make it quick. Got a court date in thirty minutes.'

'Do you remember a break-in at the CPS office sometime after Will was placed with the Knights?'

'No, but the CPS office isn't in Bottlebrush. I wouldn't have been involved. I can try to find out, though. When was this?'

I told him about my conversation with Molly Roth.

'Come by later today and I might have something on it.'

'Come by?'

'Yes, ma'am. And bring Will. I have the keys to the house.'

'Already?'

'There's still a few legalities, but Verna Mae used the lawyer as the executor and that sped things up. He says Will can take possession.'

'Okay. We'll be there.'

7

About four Monday afternoon, after Will and I stopped at the lab to get his blood drawn for the DNA comparison, we arrived at the Bottlebrush police station. Green-gray mold crept along the walls under the gutter of the beige brick flat-roofed building. From the style, the station must have dated back to the sixties, and obviously the sun did not shine on the front door of Bottlebrush PD.

A white patrol car sat parked in front alongside Burl's Land Rover. The Rover's navy blue paint glittered in the late-afternoon sun like it had been washed and waxed this morning.

'Nice ride,' Will said, nodding in appreciation as we walked by.

'Burl Rollins is obviously a man who's proud of his horse,' I answered.

Will held the door for me, and we entered the station. Burl was sitting behind a waist-high counter and stood to greet us.

'This can't be that ten-pound baby that spent the night with me.' Burl, who wore a short-sleeved blue shirt and purple necktie circa 1970, grinned like he'd eaten a banana sideways. He came around the counter and shook Will's hand, gripping the kid's shoulder with his other.

I wasn't even acknowledged until their happy reunion ended about thirty seconds later.

Finally Burl looked at me. 'Thanks for coming, Abby. I'll get Mary to cover the phone so we can talk. She's on break.' He disappeared down a short hall behind the counter and returned a few seconds later with a young black woman in a brown uniform. She held half a sandwich in her hand and nodded at us before taking the seat Burl had been occupying when we arrived. Only two cops. Big change from my visit to HPD on Saturday, where officers were as thick as bats under a San Antonio bridge.

The gun belt strapped around Burl's waist seemed to dance with his steps as he led us to his office, a room about twice the size of my closet, though far neater. One entire wall was lined with filing cabinets, and labeled boxes were stacked to the ceiling. He had made room for pictures of his family on the table behind him, right next to the computer. The woman that I assume I'd spoken to on the phone the other night was flanked by three teenage boys. The youngest had a smile crammed with braces.

We all sat, Burl behind his desk and Will and I in folding chairs across from him.

'Three boys?' I said. 'Bet that's a challenge.'

'Smells pretty bad at our house some days. Sorta like a locker room, huh, Will?'

They both laughed while I inwardly winced in sympathy for Mrs. Rollins.

'Let's get down to business,' Burl said, looking at me. 'Did you mention our, uh, theory about Verna Mae to Will?'

'He's aware she might have been his mother,' I said.

Will folded his huge hands in his lap and stared at them.

'How do you feel about that, son?' Burl asked.

'It is what it is,' he answered softly.

'I'm sure Abby's told you it may not be true. For proof, we'll need your DNA. I can grab something of Verna Mae's for hers.'

'Actually,' I said, 'HPD is already on that.'

'Oh,' Burl said.

I sensed his disappointment, affirmation of my earlier guess that he wanted a part in this investigation. I could see why. This was his town, his unsolved case.

'Sergeant Kline isn't even sure Will's abandonment has anything to do with Verna Mae's murder,' I said, 'but