Bears Behaving Badly Read online

  “So you were instructed to pull us back, but not to make way for another team? Or department? Instead, nobody’s working it? How can you possibly reconcile that under the circumstances?”

  “Should’ve known that you wouldn’t be able to figure out why someone would follow orders from their boss,” Bob said with a smirk. “And now you’re telling me you ignored it? And then went ‘off the grid’ for twenty minutes or whatever?”

  “I think it was more like twelve hours,” David piped up.

  Bob glared in his direction, and for half a second Annette wanted to see David’s grizzly take on Bob’s lynx. The concept of so much flying fur had never been so arousing.

  “Annette, you know I’m not afraid to suspend you, right?”

  “Oh, Bob, of course you are,” she replied pleasantly. “It makes you look bad, it increases your paperwork, and the children don’t like it. You’ll recall they often make their displeasure known in unsavory ways.” There was the break-room food riot last spring and the cafeteria sit-in, Benny Jurg throwing a tantrum of such proportion it caused lasting property damage (adolescent wererhinos didn’t always process stress as well as they should), and…

  “My favorite is when they suspended you without pay for two days and Dev retaliated by stealing the lieutenant governor’s sedan. Which he refused to return until they agreed to fill the trunk with pudding cups you guys could snack on during the drive to juvie processing.”

  “Chocolate pudding cups,” she corrected.

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  “Good times.” Back to the boss. “My point, Bob, is that if you’re going to suspend me, then do it. But I want it on the record and I want to add my own addendum to the file. And I’ll discuss it with everyone throughout the agency, purely as a method of processing the stressful situation I have found myself in, and you know I can be loquacious.”

  “If that means ‘pain in my ass,’ then yeah. You can be very goddamned loquacious.”

  “Which I know you don’t care about, but I have friends here. And they will care. Well. Some of them will care. At least a third of them will care.”

  Bob had passed beyond scowling into full-on pout mode. “M’not suspending you. Yet. Shouldn’t have to. You’re off the grid, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Granted, we suck at it,” David added.

  “But maybe we should put out the word that you and I are on a leave of absence? Though I’m not sure how that would—” A thought struck her, and she turned back to Bob. “Who?”

  “What?”

  “Who’s the ‘higher-up’ who told you to shut us down at the scene?”

  “I didn’t talk to him personally, but the order came from Judge Gomph. One minute I’m getting ready to have lunch and the next Gomph’s office is yelling at me to rescind your Order of Protection ASAP.”

  “What you just said makes no sense.”

  “She’s right. The call would’ve had to have come in before 10:00 a.m. Who’s eating lunch then?”

  “That’s not what I meant, David, but good point. But how could it be Gomph? He knew where we were going. I told him in the hearing, and he was fine with it. Why would he do such a thing after the fact?”

  “Dunno, but he’s been stomping all over the place, and I’ll tell you what, he’s super pissed. And I’m beginning to figure out why. Hell, ’til this week, I didn’t even know he had feet. I always see him sitting down.” Bob had gone from horrified to put-upon to resentful to sulky to smug. None of them were good looks. “So you’d better have your shit together for the hearing today.”

  “What? That can’t be right. We have another day! He said—”

  Bob shrugged. “Changed his mind, didn’t he?”

  Yes.

  Why?

  Chapter 17

  “You know why,” David said as he took a left at the stoplight as they headed back to Mama Mac’s to pick up Caro for court.

  Annette sighed. “Yes, I suppose I do. And after all that, we didn’t have a chance to talk about the disgusting pictures we found.”

  “Waste of time. Bob’s focus is on keeping his head down and staying the hell out of the field, and that’s on a good day. He hates the job, he’s scared of half his own caseworkers—”

  “Oh, half.” Annette waved away the exaggeration.

  “Including you.”

  “Well, yes.” Don’t preen, she scolded herself. That’s not a compliment. “But that’s not such a trick.”

  “He’s not gonna care,” David repeated for emphasis. “He’s gonna hide, and when he can’t do that, he’ll muddle like a motherfucker. I’m wondering if he didn’t set Caro free. Or at least sicced the garage gang on us. It’d be up his alley, wouldn’t it? Making trouble but keeping clear?”

  “Hmmm.” Bob wasn’t a bad person, exactly, though he wasn’t in danger of winning any humanitarian awards, either. He was a common enough creature: a burnout killing time until his retirement, one who put forth minimal effort. Less, if he thought no one was watching. He liked things to be quiet and uncomplicated and clean, and he was in one of the worst jobs in the world for someone who treasured such things.

  “But the garage thing happened just before the hearing. So I don’t think that was Gomph. He didn’t know anything about Caro at that time. The hearing was for Dev.” Which was awful, because that meant there were two moles. At least.

  David’s hands flexed on the steering wheel as he thought out loud. “So we grab Dev and bring him to court, but someone makes a try for us in the ramp. And someone else lets Caro free. Then we get to court, where Gomph says things in front of a court stenographer to get them on the record. But after we leave, unofficially he blocks our access to the scene. He figures we’ll be like Bob, happy to have something off our plate. Or he figures even if you don’t like it, you won’t buck the system. And then he…what? We’re missing something.”

  Annette snorted. “Several somethings, I’ve no doubt.”

  “Does he hear we went to the scene anyway? So he comes over to IPA to chew us out? Or worse? Which is when Bob starts paying attention, because infuriated judges make everyone nervous, especially ones who can trample you in an elevator?”

  “That makes a certain sense. But…” But Gomph never so much as raised his voice. But the most upset she had ever seen him was during the kale shortage. But he’d always been an advocate for the Shifter children who came through his court. She was sure he was a good man. “It’s difficult to believe.”

  “Annette. You’re too good.”

  She sat back in the passenger seat and crossed her arms over her chest. Not this nonsense again. “I don’t think there’s any such thing.”

  “It’s not a criticism. Okay, well.” He shrugged. “It kinda is. Maybe ‘good’ wasn’t the right word.”

  “Ah. You mean ‘soft.’ As in ‘hearted.’ Which I construe as an insult only because people will insist on equating compassion with weakness. Or stupidity.”

  “C’mon, you’re famous for it. Not weakness,” he added hastily. “Compassion. You let the kids run circles—no, trapezoids around you. You put up with Nadia’s never-ending ’tude. You make it easy for Bob to hide in his office—I’ve seen you doing his paperwork for him. You bring Oz food for some reason. There’s a pool for that, by the way, so if you tip me off and tell me what the hell that’s about, we could clean up.”

  She had to laugh. “Some things will never be et cetera.” Then she sobered, remembering what she’d found in the break room. She’d indulged a hunch and found the box of eclairs she’d brought Oz the other day.

  Untouched.

  Not good.

  Meanwhile, the adorably clueless David was still going on about her tender heart. “And you let me stay at your place.”

  “Operative word let. You didn’t force me. You were in my home because I all
owed it. Soft isn’t weak or stupid. Everything I do is my choice now.”

  “Now?”

  “Trapezoid?”

  “You mean in the past it wasn’t your choice?”

  “You mean children run around me in a quadrilateral with only one pair of parallel sides? Left, left, left!”

  “I know, Annette!”

  The eggplant house loomed before them once again, and Annette was out of the car like an arrow being fired. Up the familiar steps, one-two-three, skipping the one in the middle from long force of habit

  (futile because Mama Mac always heard her charges, no matter how late they snuck in)

  and knocking on the door. She let herself in just in time to see Caro hugging Mama Mac.

  “Now you hop over and see me anytime, sweetie, and think about what I said.” She paused and read Caro’s latest note. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Then she turned, beaming. “I’m sorry to see this one go, Nettie. You bring her back for a visit once everything’s settled.”

  “Yes, well, that could be a while. And good God.” Annette fought the urge to fan herself. “Why do you keep it like a Yellowstone geyser in here? Look, there’s actually moisture on the windows!”

  Rather than acknowledging her excellent point, Mama Mac went with “Are you having any luck?”

  “Oh, you want to discuss the case and not your absurdly overworked thermostat. Well, I can’t fault your priorities. We’ve had some luck. Caro, would you go wait in the car, please? Without disappearing?”

  “And thank you for reorganizing my cupboards!” Mama Mac hollered after her as the door shut. “Not that I asked, but who could refuse those big brown eyes anything?”

  “Someone who isn’t you?” Annette guessed.

  “Didn’t want to watch TV, didn’t want to read. Didn’t really relax until she had something to do. And look!” She opened one with a flourish, like Vanna flipping letters on Wheel of Fortune. “Sorted by food group and then alphabetically. Plus she scrubbed out all the drawers, even the one I was scared of, and put new contact paper in. She’s a treasure.”

  “Glad you two had fun. Could I see that?” Annette asked, reaching for the paper. “Actually, I’ll need to take all her notes for my files, so if you could just—”

  “No.” Mama Mac held it out of reach.

  “—and I wouldn’t say no to a brownie or something to tide me over in the—What?”

  “Can’t do it, Nettie.”

  Annette dropped her arm and stared. She could force the older woman, but the idea was beyond unthinkable. “This is—this is really important. Her mode of communication is admissible. In some ways it’s almost better than verbal communiques. I need it all.”

  “I understand it’s important. Do you understand I won’t hand them over? I promised. And I never, ever—”

  “—break a promise to a child. I understand, dammit.” Annette started to nibble on a knuckle, only to find her hand unceremoniously slapped. “Stop that! I’m a grown woman.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Mama, if you have knowledge of illegal activity or potential illegal activity, like abuse or—or anything like that, something Caro conveyed to you in writing, shouldn’t that supersede your moral code?”

  “Our moral code. But it’s nothing like that. She didn’t indicate where she’s been or what she’s done or who she thinks might come for her or any of the things you’re ferreting out. If anything, she was calm as a clam.”

  “Clams are pretty calm as a rule.”

  “She saw me hunting in the cupboards for honey—”

  “There’s honey?” Annette gasped. “You could be standing there obstructing me while I was eating honey?”

  “—and the next thing I knew, half my cabinet contents were all over the floor and she was trying to get me to throw away the peanut butter. Guess she doesn’t like the smell, even through the jar.”

  “This is all singularly unhelpful.”

  The older woman shrugged. “Not my job to make yours easier, Nettie, but days like this I wish it was. Somebody did terrible things to that poor cub, and not just this month, either. And it started before whoever-it-was got their claws in. I’ll bet you everything in my junk drawer, which only has half-a-dozen things in it now.”

  Annette didn’t bother asking Mac how she could surmise Caro’s backstory; the woman had been a foster mom for decades. “Do you want to hear something strange?”

  The older woman smiled. “You and your trick questions.”

  “Dev—he’s another one of my lambs—”

  “Yes, Caro mentioned him.”

  Annette clenched her fists so she wouldn’t yank Caro’s notes out of the woman’s grip. “She did, huh? Well. He said Caro was his sister. Which is impossible. But now I wonder.”

  “You wonder if he’s her brother the way I’m your mother. You’re wondering if they’re siblings by choice.”

  “I can’t shake the feeling that a lot of what’s happening with Caro goes back to Dev.” Annette shook her head. “Too much has happened in too short a time, and I can’t figure out any of it. And I assume Caro didn’t write any of that down, either.”

  “No.” Uh-oh. Hands were going on hips. Eyes were narrowing. “But if she did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”

  “You made your point, Mrs. Macropi. I’ll note it for the file.”

  “Like that, is it?”

  “No.” Annette took a deep, steadying breath. “No, of course not. I’m trying to tell you I understand, but I still have to do my job.”

  Mama Mac waved away Annette’s job. “Well, your little lost cub didn’t write any of that down. It was more of an impression she gave me. I think she can barely face some of it herself. There are worse things than being snatched from your family.”

  Annette suppressed a shiver. Her own sleuth2 had been smashed apart when she was about Dev’s age. That had defined her adolescence and set her future in bedrock. It was difficult to imagine something even more dire and dangerous.

  “What could be worse than stealing her, Mama?”

  “Selling her.” When Annette was silent so long, Mama added, “Speaking of selling, the Curs House is for rent again.”

  “It’s always been a problematic place.” To put it mildly. The small two-story house just down the block had been for sale for over a decade. The owner occasionally took it off the market to rent it out, and the longest any tenant had remained was four months. The tenants would get a new job. Or a new spouse. Or murdered. Or there was a fire. Or the basement flooded. Or it was taken over by possums. Annette, who didn’t believe in the supernatural, was reasonably certain the place was cursed. She was not the only person in the neighborhood who felt that way. “But that’s a problem for another time, and for people who aren’t me.”

  “All right, then.”

  “Meanwhile, regarding the case at hand, evil will be punished,” Annette vowed, although that was beyond her purview. Her responsibility was her charges’ safety, not vengeance. She left that to the court.

  Usually.

  2 Sleuth of bears! Like flock of ducks, or gaggle of geese. (I LOVED RESEARCHING THIS BOOK.)

  Chapter 18

  All the way to Annette’s, Caro clutched the notebook to her chest like a lifeline, which—ugh, so cheesy—it maybe was.

  “I’m not going to ask if you ate. I’m sure she stuffed you like a Christmas capon.”

  “What the hell is a capon?” David asked.

  “A castrated male chicken that gets fattened up with milk and then devoured, often with a delectable sauce on the side. And potatoes! Lots of roasted potatoes. It’s so good, David.”

  Caro, meanwhile, had looked away and then slowly caught Annette’s gaze in the rearview again. Like she couldn’t help herself. If I were younger, I’d wonder if she was challenging me.

 
; “Why are you looking at me like that? I was never going to leave you with Mama Mac for more than a couple of hours. I just wanted to see how you interacted with people who weren’t using you for trafficking. Plus, I live in Prescott, so the round trip would have taken too long.”

  A small Hmph! sound, and Caro looked away again. But she was smiling. A little.

  “Now what?” David murmured. “And if you say right-right-right, I’m driving us directly into a streetlight. After I unsnap my seat belt.”

  “Noted. And I don’t know.” Back home, obviously, but then what? Seek out her boss’s boss? Gomph’s boss? With what? A mute trafficking survivor who refused to communicate? Lund’s incriminating pictures and files? Maybe. But they only proved that Lund had incriminating pictures and files in his apartment. They didn’t even prove Lund was complicit; they’d been hidden, and there was no way to prove Lund knew they were there.

  Recent events indicated everyone left in the abuse cabal wanted Lund to take the blame. Going to the higher-ups would likely ensure that, because with Lund dead, everything could be tied up, stowed away, and forgotten. She could already hear the spin: That poor cub, but at least justice prevailed. Now it’s time for healing.

  And then the rest of the scum-sucking, law-flouting troglodytes would scatter and start again somewhere else.

  Unacceptable. So…

  What? A tinny voice from Annette’s phone had started playing “Fuck You” by Lily Allen.

  “What the hell is that?” David asked over the sound of Caro’s giggling. And say hey, wasn’t that a nice sound? Caro had a light, lilting laugh, like a Disney princess. One who could rip you to pieces at any time, possibly while giggling.

  “That’s Lily Allen’s ‘Fuck You.’” Annette clawed for her ringing phone while trying to look casual so as not to alarm the others. Pat only hit the emergency button when there was a fire. Or drop-ins intent on felony assault. Or when the fridge fell on him. She held her breath and checked the screen. “Damn and triple damn. It’s Pat. Do you have any cherries in this thing?”