Chapter Twenty-Four
MATO
WHAT SOUNDS like the buzzing of a saw pulls me out of my sleep, and I realize it’s my phone on the nightstand.
Picking it up to look at the screen, two things have me sitting up in a second, my feet on the floor ready to go.
The first is that it’s Breanna calling me, and the second is that it’s almost two in the morning.
I tap the green icon on the screen. “Breanna.”
In the background, I hear a door slam and keys jingling. “Mato, the sheriff just called, something happened to Koda. I’m on my way to his house.”
What?
Jumping up to grab my pants, I hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder. “Did they say what happened? Is he okay?”
Fuck! I’ve had my suspicions that his home life is bad, but I didn’t expect this.
Another door slams, and I hear her truck’s engine turn over. “They said he’s fine, he gave them your name first, but they didn’t have your number.”
What the fuck?
As the sleep clears, I remember the part of town Koda lives in. “Don’t get out of your truck if there are no police cars there, Breanna. Wait for me, I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.” The call disconnects, and I throw my shoes and a shirt on as fast as I can.
I’ve only known the kid for a few weeks, but I’ve become very fond of him. Once he got used to coming into the gym and being around me, he let his walls down a little. He puts on a tough front, but sometimes he inadvertently lets me see the scared little kid he’s hiding.
On the drive, it occurs to me I never found out which trailer is Koda’s, but as I pull into the park entrance, there’s no missing the police cars and the ambulance lighting up the entire area. And there are a lot, this is serious.
Breanna’s red diesel truck is sitting on the outside of the circle of police cars, and she’s talking to the sheriff next to one of the cars.
Her messy hair is pulled up in a bun on top of her head and is sticking out in every direction, and her arms are crossed over her jean jacket to hold in her body heat.
I park next to her truck and get out to take my place beside her.
The trailer park is a mish-mosh of neglected trailers with torn screens and broken-down cars, while some have well taken care of yards with little picket fences and flower beds. The trailer that Breanna and the sheriff are standing in front of is one of the former.
The sheriff sees me walking toward them and holds his hand out. “You must be Mato. The boy insisted we call you, but we didn’t have a number.”
Scanning the area, looking for Koda, near panic is squeezing my spine. I focus back on the sheriff. “Is he okay? What happened?”
He hangs his hands on his gun belt, his jacket pushed back. “He’s okay. How much do you know about the children?”
Children?
Breanna speaks before I do, surprise in her voice. “He has siblings?” Her nose is red from the cold, and her breath is hanging in the air in front of her as her teeth are starting to chatter, so I take a step closer to offer my body heat.
The sheriff shifts his weight onto one leg. “One. A little sister, she’s five and he won’t let us near her.”
All the times he stuffed food in his backpack and the insistence on being home by seven every night make sense now. I thought he was saving food for later, but he’s been taking care of his sister.
The sheriff goes on. “We’ve been here many times before. Domestic calls, drug dealing, drunk and disorderly. But it’s bad this time. Overdose. It doesn’t look good.”
Anger surges, and I interrupt. “And you keep leaving them here?”
He pauses and uses his pointer finger to push the front of his cowboy hat up his forehead a bit.
“I don’t know how familiar you are with child protective services, but they’re stretched pretty thin.
There are more children in need than there are caseworkers, and not enough families to take them in. ”
Breanna takes a step to insert herself between us, disrupting the flow of irritation weaving and growing between me and the sheriff. “Can we see them?”
About that time, a gurney is carried down the rickety steps with a body on it, the sheet covering the head and long black hair hanging over the side. The sheriff turns and shakes his head. “Goddamn it. We lost her.”
That’s when I see a woman standing just inside the front door. She also looks like she got out of bed in the middle of the night, but she’s holding a fancy leather folio book and has a giant bag slung over her shoulder. CPS.
Then I hear Koda yell. “Stay away from her.”
My feet are moving before it registers in my head to go inside. I push past the sheriff, and I hear Breanna behind me. “Mato, wait.”
Taking the steps two at a time, I’m inside the front door and next to the woman. Koda is standing in the corner, next to a ratty, torn couch with a steak knife in his hand. There is a too-small girl behind him, her tiny fist is white from holding his sweatshirt.
Her long black hair reaches down to her elbows, but it doesn’t look like it’s been brushed in a while. Big, scared brown eyes are peeking out from behind Koda. She looks malnourished and terrified.
The smell of cigarettes and old cooking oil fill my nose, and I switch to breathing through my mouth. Trash is everywhere on every surface, and a quick glance around the room explains so much about what I’ve observed in Koda’s behavior.
This is not an environment for children. Some of the cabinet doors in the kitchen are off the hinges and there is no food in them. That’s why he always wrapped half his dinner.
On top of one of the filthy as fuck counters is a digital scale next to plastic bags and papers. Not far away from those is a box of syringes and a plastic tube.
The warmth of Breanna’s body is suddenly against my arm, and her hand is holding my wrist, but she freezes when she sees the kids cowering in the corner. Fear and defiance are on Koda’s face, it’s clear he would fight to the end for his sister.
She does the same thing I just did; wide eyes scanning the area, her face blanches as she sucks in a breath.
Koda’s rigid frame sags like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders when his eyes move between the two of us. As I close the distance to get to him, I hear the woman with the bag. “Sir! Sir! It’s not safe.”
I’m not afraid of a ten-year-old with a knife; I’ve disarmed many men in training exercises, and I know he won’t hurt me. Ignoring her, I go down on one knee in front of Koda. “You okay?”
His eyes dart from one person to the next, his slim arm protectively keeping his sister behind him. When his eyes meet mine, some of the fear drains away, and the hand with the knife lowers to his side. “Our mom died.”
There are no tears, only a protective instinct toward his sister, and it’s hard to fathom the life these kids have been living.
Setting my hand on his shoulder, I nod. “I heard. But are you okay?”
He lowers his voice and shakes his head. “They want to take us to different places, and I won’t let them.”
Fuck.
Behind me, I hear Breanna having a conversation with the woman, and my thoughts are going in ten different directions. I know what I have to do.
The only problem is that I’ve never taken care of kids before.
I look over my shoulder at the woman and Breanna having a tense back and forth. Turning back to face Koda, I nod. “Wait right here, okay?”
He nods. “Okay.”
As I step up behind Breanna, I hear her say, “What does that entail?”
The woman briefly glances at me. “It all has to go through the state, there are classes involved, it’s usually a four-to-six-month process.”
“They can stay with me for now.” I blurt out the only option and partially hold my breath.
If I can train and fight full-grown men daily, I can take care of two kids.
Right? I won’t let them go to strangers and be split up, it’s obvious Koda is not going to let that happen without a fight, and his sister completely depends on him.
The woman looks at me like I’m a bug to be squashed. “It doesn’t work that way, sir. We can’t just give children to people who walk in off the street.” Her eyebrows lift to the middle of her forehead. “Have you ever even cared for children before?”
If it were just Koda, I would feel more confident arguing my case with her. It’s the little girl that will be the challenge, I don’t know the first damn thing about little girls. “I’ll take the classes.”
She huffs in exasperation. “Sir, it’s not as easy as that.”
There’s no way I’m letting this woman walk out of here with them. “He asked for me.” I tap my finger on my chest. “He knows me.”
“But the little girl doesn’t. It would be reckless of me to let a strange man take a small girl he doesn’t know.
I could probably arrange emergency placement for you to take the boy.
” She shakes her head and presses her lips together in a thin line as she looks around me at the terrified children.
“But the girl will have to come with me.”
Breanna’s arms are crossed stubbornly across her chest, her chin up. A silent storm battles in her eyes as she turns to look at me, and several seconds tick by before she says, “They can stay with me. Can you arrange emergency placement for them to come with me? Together?”
The woman’s eyes are wide as she looks like she’s losing a battle. “But… I don’t know you either.”
“I have nieces and nephews; I’ve taken care of boys and girls. They’ll be safe with me.” Her voice is firm, but I can see the slight tremble in her frame.
“They’re obviously native; they should be with someone who is also native. I can have a cleared tribal member verify my enrollment tonight.” It comes out before I think about it. I’m not sure I can do that, but I’ll sure as hell try if she asks me to.
Behind the social worker, the sheriff is talking to one of his men before excusing himself to inject himself into our conversation. “Now Lauren, why wake someone up in the middle of the night when we’ve got two people here that the kids are familiar with wanting to give them a bed?”
“Sheriff, this is highly unorthodox…” The woman holds her arm out to her side and gestures to us.
He interrupts her again. “Lauren, they just lost their mama.” He waves his hand at Breanna.
“And Ms. Harlow has been taking care of the department mounts for the past year; she’s a well-regarded member of our town.
I can vouch for her. Maybe letting them be with someone familiar would be the best route right now. ”
Huffing loudly, she looks between me and Breanna. “I’ll need to get your information before you leave for the emergency placement.”
I nod and Breanna shrugs. “Of course.”
The woman opens her folio and dramatically clicks her pen as she looks at me. “You first.”