Roz Fox - The Baby Cop

“I…I’ll do my best.” Regan paused a few steps from the staff lounge. She wasn’t prepared to have this conversation. Up to now, in the case histories she’d read and the homes she’d visited, there’d been no sign of any children being placed who weren’t clearly in need of help.

Nathaniel patted her shoulder with a fleshy hand. “I’m counting on you to whip this department into shape, Regan. I’m sorry to rush off. One day soon, after I get the budget done, we’ll have lunch, and I’ll lay out my cost-cutting ideas. By the way, have you fired Danielle Hargreaves? I’d like to be able to tell the boys in Phoenix that we’ve eliminated one salary.”

“I…um, no. Dani’s carrying a big caseload. All our caseworkers are over the limit already. She’s at the low end of the pay scale. We couldn’t replace her for less.”

“Don’t replace her. I’m trying to cut costs. Are you saying every caseworker we employ is working the maximum number of cases?”

“All of them are over the recommended limit.”

“Find out how many cases are legitimate and how many aren’t. By Monday’s meeting, Regan, I want a count of the number we serve who are in Desert City illegally. Our federal program director said it’s causing some state rolls to triple.”

“Can we even get a count? The illegal population in Phoenix had an underground system rivaling none. Hungry kids just showed up at homes that already had caseworkers assigned, and of course, we added them in.”

“Well, I won’t tolerate that in Desert City. We have the federal government’s backing. I will not increase our budget to feed nonresidents. Period!” Nathaniel was practically frothing at the mouth, the subject apparently made him so livid.

Regan found his stand unconscionable. “Are you saying we should let kids starve on our streets because an adult smuggled them across the border?”

“I’m saying we’re not responsible for feeding or clothing anyone who hasn’t come to Desert City through proper channels. I don’t condone breaking immigration rules any more than I approve the methods by which Anna and her pet cop foisted ragtag kids onto our system. I expect you to support me in this, Regan.”

“Aren’t you comparing apples and oranges? It’s one thing to disagree with placement methods. It’s another to refuse basic services to hungry destitute families.”

Piggot’s jowls shook in time with the pudgy finger he wagged in Regan’s face. “I didn’t bring you into the department to question my edicts. I moved your application ahead of others because I believed you had the balls for the job. If not, I can easily replace you. One way or another, this city’s welfare numbers will be reduced.”

He stomped off, leaving Regan staring after him in shock. By the time she managed to control her own burst of temper, she was surrounded by staff who’d been on break in the lounge and overheard her heated exchange with Nathaniel.

“Piggot’s a bastard!” Terry Mickelson exclaimed. “He’s blowing smoke. You’ve passed the probationary period. He can’t terminate you without cause. With your years in the system and your record, he’d have to document three or more offenses before he could remove you from the post. Even then, you’d have a right to a hearing.”

Dani Hargreaves stepped forward. “Nikki heard you stand up for me, Ms. Grant. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. I thought you were the one trying to have me fired. I should’ve known it was Piggot. All he ever thinks about is dollars and cents. Never about staff workloads or client services.”

“Yeah,” said a soft-spoken male caseworker Regan had only seen at the monthly meetings. Jeff Perez, she thought his name was. “Piggot expects us to run the third-largest welfare department in the state on a shoestring. But if you examine the last four yearly budgets, you’ll see he wangled himself a substantial raise.”

Regan had hoped, with time and hard work, to gain the respect and trust of her co-workers. She felt uncomfortable doing it at the expense of the man who’d hired her. “Look, the conversation some of you overheard should have been conducted in private. I regret that it wasn’t. I think it’s obvious there are some things beyond our control. Our primary mission is to pull together for the good of the families we serve. Now if you’ll excuse me, please, I believe we all have work waiting.” Regan hurried off, feeling numerous pairs of eyes follow her until she entered her office and shut the door.

Nathaniel’s verbal attack had caught her off guard. She was more shaken than anyone back there realized. Regan knew it was due in part to old tapes playing in her head. Her mother, before she’d finally left Regan and her dad, had been extremely critical. So had Jack after she’d moved in with him. Darn, she thought she’d come out of all that unscathed.

She made her way to the washroom. Grasping the rim of the sink with both hands, Regan stared at herself in the mirror. Except for the faint white scars, she looked like any one of a million other thirty-one-year-old professional women. The scars were noticeable, but they were only skin deep. Only skin deep.

Leaving the room, Regan swiftly bundled up the files she needed. She turned off the overhead light, locked the door and exited the building. When she reached her five-year-old Honda Accord, she’d rid herself of the effect of Nathaniel’s threat. Still, after she slid into the driver’s seat, she leaned her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. Just to subdue any lingering lapse of control. She’d worked too hard over the years to conquer her insecurities; she refused to fall into the trap again. It wasn’t only the years of therapy she’d undergone after the dog’s attack. She’d studied psychology to learn what really made people tick. Especially what made her tick.

She’d succeeded, too, until her poor judgment with regard to Jack Diamond. Their public fight, followed by an abrupt move and the added pressure of a new job, had probably sapped her reserves. To say nothing of the unexpected run-in with Ethan Knight and his scary dog. Today’s altercation with her boss was sort of a last straw.

But she’d survived last straws before, and Regan vowed to do it again. She was not the person she’d been twenty years ago, when a neighbor stood up in court and announced to a jury that Regan Grant was a weird kid with her light eyes. The man her family thought was a friend urged people to shun them. Which the whole town did.

Even her own mother had taken off.

Regan had begged her father not to sue the dog’s owner. Other kids had mercilessly teased the poodle. Not her, but others who walked the same route to school.

To her dad, how people viewed her didn’t matter. With him, it was about winning. The court ruled in her favor and had the dog destroyed. Neighbors were incensed. Ultimately her father had to use the settlement to send her out of state to boarding school or risk something worse than a dog attack. His business suffered, and he had to sell out. He said he didn’t blame her, but Regan was never fully certain.

Lifting her head, she gripped the wheel, sat back and turned the ignition key. That was all behind her. No one in Desert City, Arizona, knew that kid from Ohio. Mostly Regan managed to keep those old feelings buried deep.

Everything, including the incident with Piggot, was relegated to the back of her mind when Regan parked in the visitors’ lot at Roadrunner High School. Regan was the picture of professionalism when she presented her credentials to a secretary.

“I’ll have to check with the principal before I call Jeremy out of class. Is he in trouble?” the woman asked.

Regan smiled. “No. The agency has received some news that may affect his future. I’ll be happy to speak with the principal first.”