“Sorry about the mix-up. We’ll take her,” the guard said.
“You will not!” Sissy dug her heel into Kull’s foot. He didn’t seem to notice.
“It looks as if an AMBER Alert has been issued for someone with your description,” the guard said. “You don’t mind if we ask you a few questions, do you?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Sissy ground out.
The guard motioned to the other officers. They fanned out, slowly surrounding her. “Sissy Benson, right?” the guard asked. “This will be easier if you don’t fight us.”
She spouted indecencies that no fourteen-year-old should have used or known. I had trouble picturing all the anatomical impossibilities she shouted. A few more steps, and the guards closed in.
“Sir, you can let her go,” the officer said to Kull.
“Are you certain about that?” he asked as Sissy flailed.
“Of course.”
Kull shrugged, then handed her over. Sissy sank her teeth into the guard’s hand. He squealed, and then the gaggle of officers surrounded her. Sissy fought like a cornered feral cat. In the commotion, I heard a loud pop, a scream, and then Sissy hit the floor.
One of the officers stood over her with a Taser gun.
Tears leaked onto Sissy’s cheeks as her gaze met mine. She shot me a look of pure malice. All that work in earning her trust was lost.
Oh, Sissy. Why can’t you ever do it the easy way?
She let out a scream so gut wrenching, so hate filled, I had to look away. I’d lost my chance with her. Anything else she knew, she’d never tell me.
The guards hauled her to her feet and half-dragged, half-carried her out of the building. My hands shook as I watched her leave. My heart pounded. The same feeling, I supposed, a parent would have at seeing their own child being hauled away. A tight knot formed in my stomach. It shouldn’t have ended like this.
Kull made his way toward me. “A Wult child would have been locked in the dungeons for two weeks for acting as she has.”
“She’ll go to juvie for a while. I’m not sure the dungeons are much different.”
“She deserves what she gets.”
“I guess so.”
Since when had I become so softhearted? I thought of Jeremiah, alone in that hospital room, and realized Sissy may be the only person besides me who really cared about him. Mrs. Dickinson was MIA. I knew she cared for him, but where was she? Shouldn’t she be with him? Maybe Jeremiah had gotten lost in the cracks. Maybe Sissy had, too.
I pulled out my phone and looked up the directions for the foster home. The office was in one of those huge cathedrals downtown. I headed for the door, and Kull followed. I knew I should have thanked him for finding Sissy, but in reality, it bothered me that she’d been hauled off.
“You’re quiet,” Kull said as we crossed the parking lot.
“Yeah, there’s not much to talk about.”
“You lost your client’s foster child, and there’s nothing to talk about?”
I exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I know you’re trying to help, but I’d like to sort this out by myself for awhile.”
“Fair enough.”
The car ride was silent, uncomfortably so. I turned on the radio just for noise. I didn’t suppose a Wult warrior would understand why he’d upset me. Turmoil racked my brain. If I didn’t find another clue to Jeremiah’s location soon, I felt like I’d start screaming.
I had to find Mrs. Dickinson. She may not know much, but she had been the closest person to Jeremiah when he’d gone into the coma. Plus, Sissy hated her. I wanted to know why.
Dusk approached as I parked in front of the cathedral, the kind that looked more at home on the road to Canterbury than in the midst of the sprawling Houston metropolis. The sun sank behind the tall spires, casting chilly, dark shadows across the street. I glanced at the clock on the console. 6:08. Would anyone be around to answer my questions? Was Mrs. Dickinson still here?
We exited the car. Kull stared at the towering cathedral. A haunted look crossed his face, and he didn’t move as I walked up the narrow cobbled path.
“Are you coming?” I asked.
A flock of pigeons flew from the towers, their beating wings reminding me of the sound of bats. I’d never been inside the place, just gawked at it from the highway. I wasn’t sure when the cathedral had been built, but it looked like a construction from the early 1900’s. Houston was an oil town back then—a rough place to live, with segregation in high swing. I’m sure this church had seen its fair share of scandals.
I wish I’d known more about the foster home, but as I entered through the carved wooden doors, I realized I wasn’t I even sure who to ask for.
The smell of old wood and floor polish greeted us as we crossed through the foyer and into the main chapel. A wrought-iron staircase wound to a balcony overlooking the first floor with rows of doors lining the back wall. This place looked even bigger on the inside. I wondered how I would find the foster home office. Floorboards creaked underfoot until we made it to the altar at the front. A sister entered through a door on the left and greeted us with a warm smile.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“I’m looking for the foster home director. Is he here?”
She pointed to a door on the balcony. “The director isn’t usually here this late, but you’re welcome to check.”
“Thank you,” I said and headed for the staircase. Kull stalked behind me, his footsteps echoing through the chamber.
Evening light spilled through the stained-glass windows, painting rainbow shades across the oaken pews and red-carpeted floor. I had always felt at peace inside churches, though I’d never
