OUT OF THE SHADOWS

by J.E. Seymour

Becca saw them flitting in the shadows one night when she got home from work. The small figures disappeared behind the Dumpster as she moved closer to investigate. Her first thought was that there was somebody watching her, somebody making a move on her, so she went to confront them, find out who they were. As she threw aside a trashcan a shadow attacked her, beating on her legs with tiny fists. She picked it up by the scruff of its neck.

“What do you think you're doing?” Becca asked.

The little body twisted in her hands as one of the other two flung itself at her.

“Ouch,” she yelled as the kid bit her calf. She put the kid down, but kept a firm hand on the back of the shirt. The one that had bitten her retreated when she kicked at it. “Cut it out.”

The three of them stood still, the tallest in the middle, with Becca still holding the shirt of what she thought might be a girl.

“Leave me alone,” she squeaked, fidgeting.

“What are you doing here?”

“What difference does it make?”

She glanced at her watch. It was nearly midnight, which was way too late for such little kids to be out. Getting cold too, in early November, well into fall in New Hampshire . “Shouldn't you be at home?”

The littlest of the three began to whimper. She studied them. They wore ragged, dirty clothes. The biggest one stared right back at her when she looked at her, but the other two were staring at the ground. All three had matted hair that might have been blond, dirt on their faces, thin wrists and jutting cheekbones. Homeless kids, in Manchester , in this day and age?

“Where's your mommy?”

At this, the littlest one burst into full-fledged wailing, and the biggest one bent to help him. At least Becca thought it was a him, judging by the Power Rangers sneakers. She was still unsure about the middle one. Long blond hair, but it could be a boy.

The oldest child turned towards Becca now. “Our mom left us here this morning. She went to get something to eat. She told us to stay hid, but it's been so long now, and Jamie really needs to use the potty.”

Becca ran through the options. Leave them here. Not good, not in this neighborhood. Call the cops. Yeah, right. Call DCYF. Just as bad as the other choices. Bring them up to her apartment. That was pure insanity. The way the middle one was scratching, she probably had fleas. She'd decided she was a girl. Oldest one looked to be ten, at the most. Youngest was four or five.

She crouched down; remembering something about kids liking adults who got down to their level. She touched the chin of the little one, looking into the tear-streaked face. “Hey. Jamie, right? You hungry?”

“Yeah,” he sniffled.

Becca felt a tugging somewhere in her chest. All right, take them upstairs, give them some food, clean them up a little, and then call someone, anyone, who might know what to do.

She straightened up. “You want some food?”

The bigger one backed away. “What you want to be helping us for?”

“Okay, forget it. But your mom's been gone for more than twelve hours. Something must have happened to her.”

At that, the two younger ones started wailing. The middle child turned to her sister and began beating her with tiny fists. “I told you! I told you there was something wrong, I told you she been gone too long.”

The girl pushed her off and glared up at Becca again.

Becca glared back at her, sighed and muttered an obscenity under her breath. She turned and started to walk towards the wooden triple-decker she called home, looking back over her shoulder. “You coming or what?”

The three of them scurried after her, moving like the rats they probably slept with.

She took them up the stairs, pausing at the doors to listen for voices on the other side. This was a quiet building, intended for three families, but now divided up into six apartments. It was inhabited mostly by white-collar lower-middle class working stiffs, many of them single or divorced. There weren't a lot of kids here, and she didn't want to be the subject of questions about the three ragamuffins following her. She opened the door on the third floor, looked both ways and then motioned the kids out into the hall. They followed her to her apartment, watched while she took out a ring of keys and opened three separate locks on the old wooden door, then filed ahead of her into the small flat.

She shut the door and redid the locks, then turned to the kids. “First things first. Names.”

The oldest looked at her. “Sarah.” She pointed at her siblings. “Patty and Jamie.”

“You can call me Becca.” She looked around; hoping the place was clean enough for company. “Tell you what, take your brother and sister into the bathroom and get the three of you cleaned up.” She was practically talking to herself, moving towards the bathroom down the hall. “I don't have a bathtub, you'll have to use the shower.” She looked back. They were still standing just inside the front door, staring at her. “What?”

“We're hungry.” Sarah was the spokesperson for the group.

“And you're filthy,” she responded. “You get cleaned up and I'll see what I can do for food.” Opening up the hall closet, she pulled out three clean towels, which was the last of her supply. She noticed as the kids came up behind her that one of the towels was heavier than the others, and she unwrapped a .22 caliber Beretta pistol, which she stuck back in the closet on the top shelf.

“What's that for?” Patty seemed to have found her voice.

“Shut up,” hissed Sarah.

Becca herded the three into the bathroom and studied the cleaning options. A bar of soap and a bottle of baby shampoo. No more tears, right?

“I'm going to see what I can do for food, okay?” She turned to leave, then paused. “Don't put those clothes back on. Just wrap up in the towels when you're done.”

Becca headed back out to the kitchen after a side trip to grab some tee shirts from her bedroom. The cupboards revealed a couple of packages of Ramen noodles, one can of baked beans, one can of sardines and her emergency stash of chocolate bars. In the fridge she found one quart of skim milk, which didn't smell so good, three eggs, a lump of moldy cheese and a half a jar of sweet pickles. A take-out carton revealed something that was too far gone to determine what it might have been. She dropped that and the cheese into the garbage and started rustling up some pots and pans. By the time the three kids appeared with the huge tee shirts draped on them she had cooked everything that looked edible.

She set out three mismatched plates with forks and spoons and three chipped mugs full of tap water and sat down. They devoured the food as if they hadn't seen any in weeks.

“Do you guys mind sleeping all together, in one bed?”

Sarah shook her head, her cheeks puffed out with a mixture of baked beans and noodles, looking like a chipmunk. She swallowed. “What about our clothes?”

“I don't know what we're going to do about that.” Becca hadn't even started to think about that yet. She needed to find out where their mother was.

She continued to puzzle over it as she put clean sheets on her bed, and settled the kids under the blankets. Then she lay on the couch in the living room, staring at the ceiling, wondering what she was going to do with three kids.

Becca was up first, worried about a half a dozen things, ranging from the wad of large denomination bills in her pants pocket to the gun on the shelf in the linen closet, to the lack of food in the house. She had to go to work, and there was no way she could leave the children alone in the house. They still didn't have any clothes either.

She picked up the phone and dialed. “Hey Henry. I have a small problem.” She outlined the situation and he agreed to help out.

While she waited for Henry, Becca turned the TV on, checking for news of their mother, and when she couldn't find any news she switched stations, cursing her lack of cable, until she found a Public Broadcasting channel with kids' shows on it.

They looked better clean and refreshed from sleep. They were obviously siblings, with hair that was indeed blond now that it was clean. Sarah, the oldest, kept one eye on Becca. The other two ignored her, paying attention only to Sarah. Even though their mother had been gone for just a short time, it was obvious that she had left the younger ones in Sarah's care more than once.

The kids were still parked in front of the tv when the doorbell rang. Becca peered through the peephole. There was a big guy in the hallway, with curly brown hair and a dopey grin, holding two large plastic shopping bags in one hand and balancing a box of doughnuts on top of a gallon of milk in the other massive hand.

Becca opened the door. “Come on in, Henry. You have any trouble finding the stuff?”

“Piece of cake.”

Becca locked the door again and followed the man towards the living room.

Henry nodded at the kids. “They don't look so bad.”

“I did clean them up.” Becca watched Sarah check out the new arrival. She apparently didn't feel threatened by the big teddy bear of a man, and turned back to the tube.

“Sarah, Mr. Purcell got you some clothes. Get your brother and sister dressed.”

She nodded, grabbed the bag and spoke to her siblings. They followed her to the bedroom.

“What the hell are you doing, Becca?”

“What?”

“Taking in strays.”

“They were in the parking lot. Their mom disappeared. I couldn't leave them there.”

“Fine. Now what?”

“I don't know.” Becca shrugged.

“Why don't you just call the cops?”

“You're a funny guy, Henry.”

“I'm serious. Just use a pay phone, get the kids to wait in the park or something, while you report them to the cops.”

“I can't do that. I want to find their mom.”

Henry sat on the couch, put his massive feet on the coffee table and swung his arms up onto the back of the cushions. This move exposed the big revolver in a shoulder rig under his left arm. “It's not your problem. Besides, what do you know about kids?”

“I've got two of my own.”

“Yeah? When was the last time you saw them?”

Becca turned away. “Low blow, Henry.”

The kids came into the living room again, interrupting Henry's next comment. They were nearly unrecognizable in smart fleece outfits and brand new sneakers. Becca fished in the second bag and took out three puffy coats.

“What do you think?” Henry asked.

“They look great,” she conceded. “You've got some fashion sense. Do you like the stuff, kids?”

“Yes ma'am,” responded Sarah, eyeing the doughnuts.

“Go ahead and eat, have some milk too.”

Henry cleared his throat, “Uh, what are you going to do with them?”

Becca turned towards Henry. “I guess they'll have to tag along for a while.”

“Look, you really ought to just call DCYF or something.”

Becca grabbed his arm and towed him into the kitchen. “Do you know what would happen to them if I did that?”

Henry stared.

“Their mother would lose custody, they'd be split up into different foster homes, they'd be abused if they survived.” Becca shook her head. “That's not going to happen on my watch.” She turned away and pulled a leather bomber jacket on over her floppy tee shirt and jeans.

“You look a little ratty this morning,” said Henry.

“Thanks a lot.” Running a hand through her short brown hair, she realized she hadn't showered, hadn't even thought of it.

She handed the coats out to the kids, then herded them out the door. Becca slipped on a pair of sunglasses as she crossed the gravel parking lot and opened the door to her Jeep Cherokee.

“So what do I tell the boss?”

“I don't know.”

She dismissed Henry with a wave and got the kids settled in the car, Sarah in the front, the other two in the back. “Seat belts, everybody.”

She glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure the kids put on the belts as she fished out her cell phone, punched in a number and started the car.

“Yeah, Paully, would you mind telling him I'm going to be late?”

“Is this Becca?”

“Yeah. I'm having a rough morning. How are things there?”

“It's okay so far, but we need you here by noon.”

“Thanks Paully. I'll talk to you later.” She disconnected the call and put the car in gear, glancing behind as she backed out of her spot. She'd decided to check the hospitals first. She knew she could probably find out if the mother had been brought there without having to answer a lot of questions.

When she pulled into the parking lot at Catholic Medical Center she considered leaving the kids in the car, but decided that she had to take them with her. Nobody paid any attention to them and in a few minutes they entered a cramped office dominated by a metal desk piled high with papers. She knocked on the open door.

“Becca.” The dark-haired man got to his feet, holding out a hand. “It's been a while.”

Becca ignored him and shut the door. “Hey Carl.”

He looked at the three children who were trying to disappear behind her and tried a tentative smile.

“Are we here to get shots?” Sarah must have noticed the white coat and the stethoscope.

Becca shook her head. “No, Dr. Mullen is a friend of mine.”

All three kids let out sighs of relief.

Becca directed her attention to the doctor. “I could use some help.”

“It sure looks that way. Where did these kids come from?”

“They were hiding behind a Dumpster outside my apartment building last night. Their mom disappeared.”

He frowned. “You call the cops yet?”

“No.” She swallowed. “I want to find their mom first, give her a chance. You know the cops'll just take the kids away. We came here, thinking this would be the place she'd be if something happened to her.”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Sarah, can you tell me what your mom looks like and what she was wearing when you last saw her?”

Sarah described a thin woman of average height with light red hair.

“Does she have any birthmarks or tattoos?”

Sarah concentrated. “I think she has a picture of a rose somewhere. I heard her talk about it once.”

“Okay. What was she wearing?”

The girl frowned. “Black pants. Purple shoes, with heels. A white sweater, real fuzzy.”

“Was she going to go see someone, meet someone?” Becca interrupted.

Sarah shook her head. “Sometimes she does that, sometimes she makes us wait for her while she goes with men, you know, in their cars? But not yesterday, yesterday she told us to wait in the parking lot while she went to get us some food.”

The doctor rubbed his chin. “Have you lived here long?”

“No sir. We just moved up here from Boston .”

“How long have you been living here?”

Sarah shrugged. “A couple of weeks maybe.”

“What grade are you in, Sarah?”

She looked at the floor. “I'm supposed to be in fourth grade, but they put me back in third this year ‘cause I missed a lot last year.” She looked up, her face set in a hard frown. “I can read though. Really.”

“What's your mom's name, Sarah?”

“Rose.”

“What's her last name?”

“Rose Kennedy O'Meara.”

“How old is she, do you know?”

Sarah tilted her head sideways and looked at Becca, then at the doctor. “She's younger than you guys.” She shrugged her thin shoulders. “She might be something like 25.”

Becca felt ancient at 35.

The doctor picked up the phone and pressed a button.

“Janice, would you mind coming into my office? Thanks.”

Becca frowned. “You won't be turning these kids in.”

“No, I'm not planning on that. But we need to talk.”

The door opened and a heavy-set woman of about 50, wearing green scrubs, leaned in. “What can I do for you, Doctor Mullen?”

“These children are visiting this morning. Would you take them down to the cafeteria and get them something to eat?”

Janice smiled. “Come on kids.” The three youngsters followed her.

Becca closed the door. “Well?”

“Come on, Becca,” he said, with a different tone to his voice. “Their mother is obviously a prostitute. Those kids need to be in a real home, they need to be in school and off the streets.”

“You think they'll be better off in the system.” She let her voice develop an edge. “You know that if they get handed over to DCYF they'll be split up into different foster homes. The youngest one might stand a chance of being adopted, but the two older ones will spend the rest of their lives shuffling from foster home to group home to whatever, dragging their little garbage bag of belongings with them everywhere they go.”

“Why do you care? They're not your kids.”

“I know.” She softened. “But they need me.”

Carl shook his head. “You can't make up for your old mistakes with them.”

She turned away. “You're right, Carl. I've made mistakes; I'll admit that. But that doesn't have anything to do with this.”

“I think it does.”

“Oh, so since I screwed up in the past that means I don't get a second chance, I can't help these kids?”

Carl sighed and said, “You can't take care of them.”

She ducked her head. “I know.” She started to pace the tiny office, a couple of steps to the left, a couple of steps to the right. “Can you just find out if you've admitted anyone matching her description?”

“Sure.” He softened his voice. “How are you doing, anyway?”

“I'm fine.” I don't need you, she wanted to add. I don't need anybody.

“You still clean?”

She shot him a vicious glare. “How are they?”

“They're fine. They look like you, you know. Especially Carrie. I see more of you in her every day.”

“As long as she doesn't turn out like me, right?” She had to turn away for a second to wipe something out of her eyes.

“Becca.”

She cleared her throat and straightened up. “I've got to go.”

“How can I reach you? In case there's any news of Rose Kennedy O'Meara?”

“I'll call you.” In the hallway, she thought for a moment about her twins. They'd been babies when she'd last seen them. She forced the memories out of her mind as she headed for the cafeteria in search of the kids. She'd almost thought of them as her kids, she realized as she trotted down the stairs. The three were sitting at a Formica-topped table, eating ice cream cones at 11:30 in the morning. Sarah met her eyes instantly, and Becca realized that the girl had been scanning, watching her surroundings. The kid already had the street smarts that had taken Becca years to develop.

Sarah's gaze never wavered. “Did you find our mom?”

“Not yet, honey, but we will. Are you guys ready to go?”

Jamie looked up with a face covered with chocolate ice cream. “I need to go pee.”

“I'll take him,” said Sarah. She held out her hand to Patty. “You too, just in case.” As the three of them headed for the restroom, Becca looked at the nurse.

“Nice kids,” said Janice.

“Yeah.” Becca couldn't tell if there was any judgement in the woman's smile. She wasn't sure if the people Carl worked with even knew who she was. Becca had followed Carl up here, kept in touch with him as the years went by, but hadn't really involved herself in his life. She wondered what her kids looked like now. Teenagers. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as the three kids came back into the room.

“Ready to go?”

Sarah nodded.

Becca followed them, watching the way the two younger kids took all their cues from Sarah. Both stayed within arm's reach of her and she shielded them, kept them safe. Carl stepped out of his office as they approached, shaking his head.

“No sign of her, but I'll keep my eyes open. I've got friends too, so I'll ask around for you.”

Becca nodded. “Thanks.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“They'll come with me for now.”

The air outside was cold and smelled of snow. She'd have to get the kids some boots.

She pulled into Jack's parking lot just at noon. It was a two-story brick building down by the river, near the old Amoskeag mill complex.

“Why are we here?” Sarah sounded skeptical.

“This is where I work.”

“You work at a restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“No way.”

“Do you have fies at your work?” Jamie asked.

“What?”

“French Fries,” explained Sarah.

“Oh, I'm sure we can find some. Come on, let's go.” After a quick glance around she led the way into the dark building, taking off her sunglasses as they entered. The air was heavy with smoke. She headed for the bar, following the sound of the TV.

“So, are you a waitress or what?” Sarah asked.

“No, I'm not a waitress. I'm the manager.” She glanced up at the horse racing on the television, then found the remote and changed the station to PBS, happy to see Elmo. A chorus of boos came from the far side of the room.

Becca turned and glared at them. “Shut up.”

A disembodied voice responded. “Jeez, what's got into her?”

“You kids stay here for a minute, okay?”

Sarah nodded. The three settled onto bar stools, staring at the tube.

Becca looked around, sizing up the thin crowd. “Don't talk to anyone, okay Sarah?” Then she patted Jamie on the head and headed for the office upstairs. She walked in and collapsed onto a ratty couch covered by an old bedspread.

The big man behind the huge oak desk was waving his hands around as he explained his latest idea for a commercial.

“So there's this lion, see? We have the lion sitting on the bar, and we say, ‘We're not lyin', get the best deals in steaks and seafood at Jack's.'” He looked around the room, his dark eyes flashing with glee. “So what do you think?”

Becca could just imagine the multitude of things that could go wrong with this scenario.

“I don't know, boss. How about just a stuffed lion? I mean, come on, what are you gonna do with a real lion?” Henry was always the voice of reason.

The other man in the room, a big guy with a shiny bald head, didn't say a word, just stared at Becca.

She glared right back at him, then shifted her attention to the boss.

“Well look who decided to grace us with her presence?” Jack said. “Where you been, Becca?”

“I had things to do.”

“More important than what I need you to do for me?”

She shrugged. “Not more important, just more immediate.” She wasn't going to tell her boss about the three kids. He wasn't the understanding type.

Jack frowned at her. “Immediate huh? Here's something immediate for you. You have to go to Salem and straighten out the fish guy.”

“What?”

“The fish guy is saying he doesn't have anything better than the crappy scrod he's been sending us. I want you to go down there and straighten him out.”

“ Salem , Massachusetts ?”

“No, Salem , Oregon , what do you think? Yeah, Massachusetts . What is your problem today? You show up late, you're off in Neverland. What's going on?”

“Nothing. I can't go to Salem right now.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I have a life you know,” she snapped without thinking. “I can't just take off.”

The bald guy, Paully, snorted. Jack lowered his bushy eyebrows so far that his eyes became nearly invisible. “You may be good at what you do, Becca, but you are not unreplaceable. Get it?”

“That would be irreplaceable, Jack.”

“So now you're an English teacher?”

“I'll do your fish thing as soon as I can. I just have a lot on my plate at the moment.” She got up. “Can I go do my work now?”

Jack growled and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

She held her breath going down the stairs, almost expecting Paully to come after her, but it didn't happen. As she walked into the bar again, Roger approached. He was shorter than her five-eleven, with brown hair neatly trimmed above his collar.

“Ms. Mullen?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I don't know what to do with this.” He held up a yellow piece of paper.

“What is it?”

“It's a shipping order. A receipt actually. For some produce.”

“So what's the problem?”

“Somebody signed for it, but most of it was never delivered.”

“Really? Who signed for it?”

Roger looked down at the floor. “I can't read the signature. It looks like it might have been you.”

“I wouldn't sign for stuff that doesn't exist, now would I?”

“No, but nobody knows where it is and we're already running low on salad.”

“Listen, the supplier wanted to break it up into two shipments, the rest should be coming later, okay?” She wasn't going to tell him that the lettuce had fallen off the back of the truck long before it arrived, and the cook was going to have to make do with whatever she could find for what little money she had left in the till. If she could just keep Jack from buying a freaking lion they might have something left for lettuce.

Roger nodded.

“You're doing a good job.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

The kids were still watching the television. She looked at them, overwhelmed. Maybe Carl was right. She should just turn them in. Who was she to think she could take care of three little kids?

Jamie caught sight of her. “Fies now?”

“How about McDonald's?”

Sarah jumped down off the stool. “Great.” There was no accompanying smile, no enthusiasm. She acted like she'd just been offered a chance to have her teeth drilled without Novocaine.

“I want my mommy,” Jamie whined.

“I'm working on it. Now do you want to go get some lunch, or what?”

She bought three Happy meals and a cheeseburger, chewing on the meat without tasting it. She thought that maybe these three kids were some kind of test. She'd screwed up her last chance with kids, but maybe she could do it right this time. Still, there was no way she could take care of them. Maybe what she really needed to do was find their mother.

She took the kids back to the apartment for the afternoon and called Carl.

“I haven't heard anything, I'm sorry.” He paused. “I think you should call the police.”

“No. Not yet. Let me know if you hear anything.”

“Phone number?”

She gave him her number, surprised that she had never given it to him before.

The kids were arrayed in front of the television, staring at a collection of puppets doing something with letters. They needed to be outside, playing, hanging with other kids. Hell, they needed their mother. She wasn't going to make a good mother, much as she wanted to try.

She picked up the phone again and got Henry to watch the kids. He grumbled about being dragged into her mess, but he came and sat on the couch with them while she headed for the East side of town, tolerating the stares and a couple of catcalls while she looked for what she needed.

She cornered a guy she knew only as Jorge, somebody that somebody else had recommended.

“I know who you mean. Haven't seen her in a couple of days though.” The man pushed his greasy hair out of his eyes. His accent was something close to Puerto Rican, maybe, perhaps Columbian. Hadn't she heard something on the news about a lot of these people coming up from El Salvador ?

“She was working on her own, you know what I mean?” He smiled, revealing yellow teeth that had possibly never seen a dentist.

Probably never even heard of a dentist, Becca thought, but she returned the smile. “No pimp.”

“So far. She won't last long like that.”

“You know she had three kids?”

“No way, in this life?” He shook his head.

“She just moved up here. You have any idea why?”

“I didn't know her that well, man.”

“How did she look when she first arrived?”

“Hey, come on, Becca. I tole you already, she don't work for me. Why would I pay attention to her? The only reason I remember her was that someone was looking for her, like you. Asking questions.”

Becca perked up at this. “Somebody who?”

Jorge shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody I knew, just a guy. Taller than you. White, with short hair. Big arms, you know, like he was out of prison, lifting weights, too big for his coat. He had prison ink, too, you know?”

“Tattoos?”

“Yeah, amateur tattoos.” The man closed his eyes for a second, then looked back up into Becca's eyes. “A spider on his right arm.” Jorge pushed up his jacket sleeve and pointed to his wrist. “Right here.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Guy thinks he's hot, thinks he's a big man, this con. You know what I mean?”

Great, a walking cliché. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, he just gave me a description, you know, and said he wanted to find this girl. He didn't mention no kids.”

“Thanks Jorge.” Becca shook his hand and palmed a twenty for him.

“I don't need your money,” he sneered and tucked the bill into his pocket.

“Consider it a thank you note.” Becca got back into her car. None too soon, she thought, considering the scruffy looking teenagers who were eyeing it.

Back at the apartment, she released Henry. She slipped him another twenty, mourning the depletion of her roll.

“Sarah, I need to talk to you.”

“It's dinner time, isn't it?”

“We'll eat in a bit. This is important.”

“I'm hungry,” whined Jamie. Jamie seemed to whine all the time, no matter what he had to say.

“I said we'll eat in a bit, okay?” Becca was getting frustrated. “Do you know a big guy, taller than me, with tattoos?”

Sarah turned white. “Did you see him? You didn't tell him where we were, did you?”

“No I didn't Sarah, who is he?”

The girl looked away. “Nobody.”

Becca reached out and turned her eyes to face her. “Sarah, you know who I'm talking about. Any help you can give me will help me find your mom, and will keep you safe. Do you understand?”

Sarah glanced over at the other kids, who, having discovered that there was not any actual food available, had gone back to the television. “He's our father. He beat us. That's why he was in jail. When Mom found out he was getting out, we left. That's why we moved up here.”

“What was your mom doing before you moved?”

“She had a regular job, like you. Same as when we first moved up here. She worked at a store, but then Jamie got sick and she got fired for taking time off to take care of him, and then she couldn't pay the rent, and then she started going with men and I don't like that, and I want to go home.” She started to sob; the first emotion Becca had seen her display. “We don't have a place to live anymore. And now we don't have a mom anymore.” She glanced over at her siblings, still absorbed in the TV.

“So your mom was running away from your dad?”

Sarah nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“Okay, go watch some TV while I order dinner.”

The girl wandered back into the other room and sat on the couch. The other kids snuggled into her, and she wrapped her arms around them.

Becca watched them, hoping that the kids' father hadn't already found their mother.

Becca had just finished eating her Lo Mein when her cell phone chirped. “Hello?”

“It's Carl.”

She took a breath. “You have news?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I'm sorry, but she's dead.”

“How?”

“Somebody beat her to death.”

Becca swallowed the lump in her throat, surprised by the hot feeling in the back of her eyes. “Thanks.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don't know.”

“I didn't mention the kids to anyone.”

“Thanks.”

“There's a possibility that whoever did this to her knows about the kids and will come for them next.”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful.”

“Okay.”

As she shut the phone she felt Sarah's eyes boring into her. She met the stare, gave her a little half smile, and decided to wait till morning to tell her.

She woke up to the kids watching the news. Sarah's face was whiter than usual, and Jamie was crying.

The screen showed a studio photo of a young woman holding a toddler on her lap, with two little girls beside her. Her hair was red, the kids were all blond. “The woman in this photograph,” Tiffany the newslady was saying, “was found dead yesterday in an empty lot off of Pine Street . The three children are still missing.”

The screen changed to a male reporter, holding a microphone and talking to a huge guy in a ratty green parka.

“This is Charles Meagher, father of the missing children.”

“I just want to find my kids so we can be a family again,” Meagher was saying. “I hope the police get whoever did this to my wife, and I can settle down with my kids and get on with our lives.” He grinned at the camera, but the smile didn't touch his cold eyes.

Becca switched the set off. So much for breaking the news gently. Her cell phone chirped again.

“What?”

“Did you see the news?”

“Yes, Carl.”

“You need to call the police now.”

“No. He killed her. I know he did.”

“The cops don't think so. Wait a minute, do I hear kids crying?”

“Yeah, they were watching the news.”

“Becca, you've got to let them go. They're not your kids.”

“They're afraid of him Carl. Their mother ran from him, that's why they moved up here.”

“How do you know what she told them? Maybe he just wanted custody of the kids.”

“He's a felon. He did time for beating her up.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“No.”

“Like I said, the mother could have told them anything.”

“The guy doesn't look like a winner.”

“Becca, you need to do the right thing.”

“I will, Carl,” she snarled as she closed the phone.

The kids were staring at her.

“He's going to kill us too, isn't he?” asked Sarah.

“Not if I can help it. Come on, I've got to go to work.” They stopped at McDonald's on the way. Sarah ate her pancakes but the other two just sat, staring into space, holding the Styrofoam platters in their respective laps.

When Becca pulled into the parking lot, there was a police car parked by the back door. That could mean any one of a number of things, but she didn't want to take a chance. She turned the car around.

“Where are we going?”

“I don't know.”

“I want my mommy,” sniffled Jamie.

Becca scrambled to think of somwhere she could take the three kids. She dialed Henry.

“Where are you?”

“Just driving around.”

“Cops are all over the place here. Somebody came in and worked Roger over, beat the poor guy to a pulp.”

“Who did?”

“We don't know.”

“Is Roger okay?”

“He'll live.”

“That's why the cops were there?”

“Yeah.”

“Are they still there?”

“Yeah. They want to talk to you.”

“Of course they do. I don't want to talk to them.”

“You can't run forever.”

“Sure I can.”

“Not with those kids.”

“Shut the hell up, Henry.” She closed the phone and pulled back into her parking lot, checking for strange cars. It was 10:30 in the morning and the lot was mostly empty, but she recognized the few cars that were still there. She checked the weapon in her belt anyway, nervous. She didn't know where else to go. She wanted to take the kids back inside and hole up.

“Come on kids.” Before she shut off the car, she thought for a moment. If Charles Meagher had beat up Roger, he probably knew where she lived. Maybe it would be better not to go in.

“Never mind.” She put the car back in gear. Just as they pulled out of the parking lot, she saw him. Sarah whimpered.

Becca met his eyes, saw the look of recognition as he scanned the vehicle. He was sitting behind the wheel of an ancient sedan, an old Volvo maybe, something that had once been white but was now mostly rust. Becca stomped the gas and her Cherokee responded, leaping the curb and accelerating up the street. He did a J turn in the parking lot and lit out after them.

She ran a red light, kept the Jeep moving, weaving in and out of traffic, heading back towards the restaurant. She'd be safe there. Sure, safe like Roger. She grabbed her phone as a thought occurred to her. If Charlie Meagher didn't know there were any cops there, he might get dangerous, and if they arrived, like the proverbial cavalry, they'd see anything he did. She grinned as she headed towards Jack's.

“Henry, I got this Meagher guy tailing me, and he looks like he wants to…” she looked in the rear view mirror and saw the kids. “He looks like he wants to K I L L me. I'm coming to the restaurant. You meet me in the parking lot, and call the cops.”

“You want me to call the cops?”

“Yeah, bet you never heard that one before.”

“You take care of those kids.”

God, he sounded like Carl. “Meet me outside, I'm right there. 911, Henry, dial 911 and tell them code 4.”

She pulled her car across a couple of handicapped spots by the door. Henry stepped out, and Becca handed the kids off to him, waved him inside. “Take them in and keep them with you. I'll keep the creep out here.”

“Cops are on the way.” Henry guided the children into the restaurant.

Meagher tore into the parking lot in his Volvo, screeching to a stop. He leapt out and started towards her.

She held her ground, on the far side of the Cherokee. He pulled out a big black handgun, and aimed it at her. She felt her stomach lurch, and looked back towards the door, hoping the cops would be here soon.

“Where's my kids?” growled Meagher. He held the Glock tilted sideways, Gangsta style.

“Take it easy.” Becca held her hands out, trying to be safe if it went either way, whether the cops came or not.

“I took care of your little fag friend, he gave you up pretty quick, but I worked him over anyway.”

Becca wished she had been wrong about this guy. Just this once, she wanted to be a bad judge of character. “I don't have the kids, Charlie.”

“What right do you have to call me Charlie?” he screamed. “You had my kids in your Jeep, I saw them. Go inside and get them.” He waved the gun towards the door as he continued to advance on her.

Becca could see the police car behind him now. Code 4, just like she had asked. No lights, no siren. “Okay Cha… uh, Mr. Meagher. I'll take you to them.” She tried to keep his attention focused on her as she started to distance herself from him, without giving him a path to the door. She had to keep her kids safe.

Two uniformed patrolmen emerged from the cruiser. “Police! Hold it right there. Drop the weapon.”

Meagher gave her a glare, and she thought for a second that he was going to shoot her anyway. But he'd apparently been institutionalized enough to obey an order when he heard one. He dropped the gun and laced his hands behind his head.

It was that easy. The cops hauled him away. More cops took the kids away. She heard from Carl that they had a place to go now, their grandmother had seen the news and was on her way up here.

Becca was allowed to see them one last time while they waited at the police station. It made her nervous, but the kids looked okay. They were sitting on an orange vinyl couch in a room with yellow concrete block walls and Dragon Tales on the TV up in the corner.

Sarah rolled her eyes when Becca walked in. “I hate this baby show.”

“Shut up,” whined Jamie.

Becca felt that weird heat behind her eyes again. She was going to miss that whining. “You guys okay?”

Sarah nodded. “Our dad is going back to jail.”

“Yeah.”

“We're going to go live with Grandma.”

“Yeah.”

Sarah lowered her voice. “I wish we could have lived with you.”

Becca nodded, and this time she had to run the back of her hand across her suddenly wet cheek. “You'll be okay.”

“Bye.”

“You take care of those kids, you hear?”

Sarah nodded again, her face serious. “I will.”

Becca didn't doubt that.

She walked slowly out of the building, thinking about a million different things. Mostly about kids. Those kids, and her kids.

She dialed Henry. “I'm not going to make it this afternoon.”

“It's okay. Jack wants you to know he found a lion.”

“No way.”

“He's just going to rent it though.”

“That's good.”

“See you around?”

“Yeah.”

She shut off the phone and thought about Carl again. It was getting on towards three in the afternoon. Carl would have to pick the kids up from school, if he hadn't hired a nanny, which he easily could have. But it was worth a shot. She pulled into the hospital parking lot and waited. A few minutes later Carl came out and hopped into a Jeep Cherokee, same model as hers, only about six years newer. She hung back a little as he left the lot and then followed him across town.

She watched as he pulled up in front of a private school. She pulled over, just down the street, waiting, with her heart pounding.

he recognized them as soon as they came out, even though she wasn't sure she would. The girl was in a plaid skirt, the boy in chinos and a tie. Both of them tall, both of them dark haired. She followed them with her eyes in the rear-view mirror. She watched the Jeep drive by, watched her kids as they smiled and chatted with their father, felt the heat behind her eyes, the lump in her throat, and wondered when she had gotten so soft.