Little Lamb Lost Read Online Free

babysitter and Nona had known each other for years through the A.M.E.
Zion church. “She’s in a right state. The police are at her house.”
    “I’m going over there now.”
    “I wonder what in the world could’ve
happened to the poor child?”
    “The coroner will do an autopsy,
probably tomorrow.”
    “You think it was an accident?”
    “God, I hope so.”
    Nona walked me out to my car. On the
way, another one of my clients, Cheyenne, spotted me.
    “Oh, shit. We didn’t have an appointment
today, did we?”
    “No, I’m here on another matter.”
    “Good.”
    As Cheyenne stormed into the house, I
asked Nona how she was doing. “She’s angry. Arguing with the staff. Doesn’t
want to do her chores. Doesn’t want to be here.”
    “She’s not going to make it, is she?”
    “No, I wouldn’t think so. Not this
time.”
    I sighed. It was sad for Cheyenne’s
three kids, who would go up for adoption.
    I was halfway to Dazzle’s house when Mac
called my cell phone. He summoned me back to the office, stating that Dr. Pope
had cleared her schedule for the afternoon.
    This was the meeting I was dreading. Dr.
Pope was relatively new in the position of director. She was the best one we’d
had in my five years with the agency and I had a lot of respect for her.
Despite the chaos that happened on a daily basis, she was always calm and
well-spoken. I’d never seen her get angry, and I hoped I wouldn’t now.
    Chapter Three
    On my way back to the office I called poor
frantic Dazzle to tell her I wouldn’t be over.
    “Oh, Claire, what a mess. The police are
here, going over everything. Taking pictures and videos. What in God’s great
world could’ve happened to him?”
    “I don’t know. Listen, I want to come
see you, but I’ve got to go meet with my supervisors. Can I stop by tomorrow?”
Probably best not to get in the cops’ way, either, I thought.
    “You know you can. Lord have mercy,
you’re not in trouble over this, are you?”
    “Too early to tell.” My stomach tensed
at the thought.
    She wailed a long cry. “Oh Lord, what a
mess.”
    I tuned through all my favorite radio
stations on the way to the office and in the end just shut it off. After
finally finding a parking space, I dumped my stuff in my cubicle where I ran
into Russell.
    “Hey, I’m going out to get lunch,” he
said. “You want something?”
    I didn’t, but I knew he’d harass me
about not eating if I didn’t order something. “Sure. Whatever.” I handed
Russell a ten out of my wallet and spent the next twenty minutes distractedly
canceling meetings and checking my voice mail. I picked at the sandwich Russell
delivered to my desk, then retrieved the Hennessy’s chart and went to find Mac.
    He was in his office, on the phone, with
an empty Tupperware container at his elbow. He finished his call and asked,
“You ready?”
    We made our way up to Dr. Pope’s
fourth-floor corner office, decorated in a serene fashion that suited her
personality. Soft taupe carpet and a large, cherry-finished desk and table.
Peaceful landscapes on the walls. Through the windows I could see the towering
glass and masonry buildings of the financial district.
    Mac and I joined Dr. Pope and three men
at the round conference table. One of them, Brian Shoffner, I already knew.
Nice guy, and a competent lawyer. He’d been the attorney for the agency on the
Hennessy case. Dr. Pope introduced the other two suits, an attorney and a
representative from the state office in Montgomery.
    Let the “cover your ass” begin, I
thought. As if Michael’s death alone wasn’t tragic enough, there was the
fallout at DHS. Right now, Michael’s death appeared to be an accident. But just
in case it wasn’t, my superiors were going to make damn sure I’d done
everything I was supposed to, from the moment I’d received the initial report
two years ago to the moment last night when Michael took his final breath. I’d
gone over the case in my head a million times