Chapter 5 - The Caseworker's Verdict
Brenda, the caseworker from Child Protective Services, arrived an hour later. She was a tired-looking woman in her fifties, wearing a raincoat over pajamas, carrying a thick manila folder and a clipboard. She had a reputation for being thorough, but overworked.
She walked into the lobby, took one look at the children sleeping on the breakroom sofa—Tommy curled tightly against Emily's side, and Barnaby the puppy resting his splinted leg on Emily's ankle—and sighed deeply.
"Mercer," Brenda said, approaching the front desk. "Tell me everything."
Daniel gave her the rundown. He kept it clinical, factual. The broken door. The abusive stepfather. The mother who, according to a brief interview with neighbors, was out of state with a new boyfriend and had left the kids with Marcus weeks ago.
"The mother is unreachable," Daniel finished. "Marcus Vance is sitting in a cell in booking, facing multiple felonies. The kids have no other family on file."
Brenda rubbed her temples. "Alright. The local emergency shelter is full. I have a foster family in the next county, about forty miles away, who can take the girl. But they don't take boys under ten. I'll have to place the boy in a temporary group home until Monday."
Daniel felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. "You're separating them?"
"I don't have a choice, Daniel," Brenda said, her voice tinged with genuine regret. "It's 2:00 AM on a Sunday. I don't have a magic wand to conjure up a home that takes sibling pairs on zero notice."
"And the dog?" Daniel asked.
Brenda glanced at the sleeping puppy. "Animal Control opens at 8:00 AM. They'll come pick it up. Hopefully, a rescue takes it before it gets put down."
It was standard procedure. It was by the book. It was how the world worked.
But Daniel looked at Emily. He remembered the way she held that paper bag. He remembered the fierce, unyielding way she grabbed her brother. If they woke up and found themselves separated—if they woke up and found the puppy gone—it would break whatever fragile spirit they had left. The trauma of the rescue would be worse than the trauma of the abuse.
"No," Daniel said.
Brenda blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said no, Brenda." Daniel stepped around the counter, standing between the caseworker and the sleeping children. "They aren't going to a group home. They aren't going to different counties. And the dog is sure as hell not going to Animal Control."
Brenda crossed her arms. "Daniel, you know I can't just let them stay at a police station. They need a certified placement."
"I'm a certified emergency foster placement," Daniel said.
The entire front desk area went dead silent. Miller, who was typing up the arrest report, stopped typing. Marla looked up from her switchboard.
Brenda stared at him, bewildered. "You? Since when?"
"Since three years ago," Daniel said evenly. "After my wife passed away. We took the classes together. We were trying to adopt before she got sick. My certification is still active in the state database. Look it up."
It was a truth Daniel rarely spoke about. The empty house he went home to every morning. The unused spare bedrooms that had been painted in pastel colors for a child who never arrived. The suffocating silence of a life that had stalled out.
Brenda opened her laptop, resting it on the counter. She typed rapidly for a few minutes.
"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured. "Daniel Mercer. Active status. Approved for sibling pairs. Clean background, obviously." She looked up at him, her eyes softening. "Danny... are you sure? This isn't just babysitting for the weekend. This case is going to be messy. A long, drawn-out court battle to sever parental rights. It takes a toll."
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," Daniel said.
He looked back at the sofa. Emily was awake now. She hadn't moved, but her eyes were open, watching him. She had heard the conversation. She knew exactly what was being discussed.
Daniel walked over to the sofa and knelt down.
"Emily," he said softly. "You heard?"
She nodded slowly. "You have a house?"
"I do. It's quiet. It's safe. It has a big backyard with a fence, which is perfect for a puppy who needs to learn how to walk on a bad leg." Daniel smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes for the first time in years. "If you want, you and Tommy and Barnaby can come stay with me. Nobody will ever hurt you there. And I will never separate you."
Emily looked at her sleeping brother. She looked at the dog. Then, she reached out her small hand and grasped Daniel's massive, calloused thumb.
May you like
"Okay," she whispered.
It wasn't a proclamation of joy. It was a leap of faith. And for Daniel, it was enough.
