go.”
“Yeah, that’s true with anyone in life.”
Liz looked at him in acknowledgement but didn’t respond. She refused to read further into his comment.
He took a step back from the car. “It’s late, so I’ll let you go.”
She started the car as Alex walked away. “Alex, thanks,” she called through the open window.
Alex stopped and turned around. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped forward. “For what?”
She smiled and looked down. “Just, thanks.” She rolled up her window and drove away.
Chapter Five
Walking down the hall into her office, Liz inhaled the musty smell from the forever-leaking roof. The pale blue walls showed shadows of past colors of white and beige. Brown carpet covered the twenty-some-year-old floors leading to her office.
She sat down in her swivel chair, looking at her old silver-and-mushroom-colored metal desk. On top of the mound of paperwork, pens and other paraphernalia, lay a Denver Post newspaper. The front-page story popped out at her; “Abuse and Neglect Stats Shocking.”
Liz moved some files out of the way and laid the paper down, running through the statistics on the local social service calls. A total of 37,665 screened-out calls, which meant they were new incidents. The next category number was 21,698—all of which were emergency calls—for a total of almost 60,000 calls this year.
“Great way to start the day, isn’t it, Liz?” Her supervisor stuck his head inside the office and pointed to the paper. His brown hair appeared to be newly trimmed, again. He had on his regular attire, khaki pants, a tucked in button-down shirt, and slip-on shoes that matched his belt. He sat down on a blue-padded armless chair located next to her desk and crossed his long, slender legs.
Michael was married to his job. He didn’t think matrimony was a priority. At least that appeared to be the reason he had never gotten serious with anyone.
He was a good guy to work for. Actually, Liz didn’t always feel as if he were her supervisor. They got along well, and they shared the same convictions about how to do their jobs.
He watched her pull placement paperwork out of her briefcase. “Looks like you went out on a call last night.”
“I had to place two boys. Dad got a little upset with the eleven-year-old.”
Michael turned his head toward the ceiling in thought. “I bet you placed them at the Bowies’.”
“Bingo,” she sang, lifting a finger.
“You keep that house full,” he stated, with an admiring stare.
“Where would you want to be if you were a kid?” She pointed at him.
“No doubt about that. Does Dad have any priors?”
“Not with us, but he has a few with PD. The most concerning is a domestic violence. I’m going to give it to Norma. Most of her cases have moved to long-term caseworkers. I just need to finish up some paperwork with Demas.” She leaned back in her chair, waiting to hear the creak in the springs. The familiar sound set her in work mode like a time card being punched.
“So that means you have about the same caseload as Norma does on a regular basis.”
Norma’s lack of pulling her weight drove him crazy, but he didn’t do much about it except complain to Liz.
“Yeah, but I’m sure I’ll get another case before I even hand this one off to Norma.” She looked at the papers on her desk and started sorting through them. She could feel his stare but decided to wait rather than ask what he was thinking.
“You and Demas always get hooked up on these calls.”
She shrugged and fidgeted in her chair and then changed the subject. “What do you think about me going for the supervisor promotion?”
He was silent for a moment. “I think you’ve got a shot. I’d have to work more though, so, no.”
Liz liked her current position as short-term caseworker. She went out on the initial calls, went to court if needed, then passed them along to the appropriate long-term caseworkers. She enjoyed the variety and