Page 22 of The Dating Charade

He shook his head. “I hate to see it.”

She took a step into the kitchen, observing her surroundings. Every cabinet door hung open, either because Slade had just inspected it or because it had been left that way. Whereas the living room was knee-deep in dirty, broken, and used objects best shoveled out to the dump, here each cabinet was empty. No cans of beans and peas, no boxes of noodles, no Cheerios inside the empty boxes of cereal.

She flicked a bag of chips, and it slid across the counter.

How had this happened to another one of the Haven girls in a month? Another girl pulled from her home without Cassie having a clue how bad it was? Another girl living in such conditions that DCS warranted removal?

Cassie felt her throat wobble, and she clenched her teeth with a determined steadiness. Not Star. She cared for all the girls, genuinely loved them all. But oh, she loved Star.

She felt the urge to run to her car and drive like a wild woman around town, knocking on the doors of each and every one of the forty-eight girls who dropped in every day. What were they doing tonight? What sort of situations were they living in? She wanted to set each one in a chair tomorrow, to give them the inquisition until she knew with absolute certainty their lives were in good shape. That there was nothing to hide.

But Star? She’d known something was going on with Star. She knew her stepfather had come back into the picture, knew her mother was unpredictable, suspected worse facts hidden shallowly beyond that. But Star kept coming to the Haven every afternoon. Kept that smile on her face, kept boxing out the questions whenever Cassie tried to move in.

Especially after Cam’s departure and the news of Star’s stepdad’s return, Cassie had been more diligent. She’d “broken” several of those rules in the fat handbook on her desk: Don’t give out full-frontal hugs. Don’t keep up private communication after hours with the teens. Avoid becoming friends on social media.

Yeah, right.

Those rules were written by the wise, perhaps, but not by the ones personally holding the door open for the kids every day.

Cassie had spent at least fifteen hours a week with Star for the past six years. Fifteen. That meant she spent at minimum seven-hundred-and-eighty hours with Star each year. Tack on the summer camps and special trips, and she was at well over a thousand. At some point, “child in question” became “close as blood,” and rules went out the window.

Mike spoke. “Looks like someone tried to get a lab off the ground but failed. Hazmat team took a look around, but they’re clearing out now.”

“Yeah, I ran into one of them in the living room.” Cassie took a step closer, catching sight of the two unopened soda cans in the otherwise empty fridge. “Where’s the girls’ mother?”

“I’m sure DCS will be coming down tomorrow, asking you the same.” Mike opened the second bottom shelf, confirmed its lack of contents, and shut it.

“The girls aren’t talking much. One of their neighbors made the call, saying their mom split a while ago. Best I can tell, they’ve been on their own a few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Cassie crossed her arms, trying to think of the exact date she had spoken with Star about her stepdad. Her mom had still been home then, hadn’t she? She thought so, but Star had been intentionally vague.

“I spoke with Star about her stepdad about three weeks ago. She led me to believe her mother was still around. At the time Star said her stepfather was planning to leave town.” Cassie squeezed her eyes shut, remembering. “Actually, she said he was planning to leave that weekend. Oh, I hope they haven’t been on their own that long. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”

“Maybe the girl thought her mother would be returning soon.” He stood and adjusted his belt. “Maybe the mother still plans to. Not that she’ll find her daughters here when she returns.”

Cassie shivered. It felt like forty degrees in there. “What’s going to happen?”

“Well, I don’t know what all she’ll be charged with, but child neglect alone—”

“Yes, yes.” Cassie nodded, well aware of the court procedures ahead. “The girls, I mean. What will happen to them?”

But she already knew. Even while he started to reply, she heard the cries of the youngest in the stairwell and stepped backward. “Actually, I’ve gotta get something and bring it back to Rachel. Thank you, Mike. I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you. Sorry about the news.”

“Thanks.” Her reply was feeble as she withdrew into the hall and dodged the piles of refuse there. At the first open door, she stepped over a naked Barbie and into the room. Definitely Star’s. Besides a couple of aged movie posters, Cassie recognized several sweaters hanging on hangers in the open closet and strewn across the floor. A Pack ’n Play stood squarely in the center of the room. Star’s black backpack hung off a chair where a Spanish 2 textbook sat at the top of a wobbly stack.

Cassie gingerly opened the unzipped backpack and peeked inside. DCS was moving too quickly to even pick up her school laptop? She pursed her lips, shivering again.

She slid the computer out of the bag and just as she did so felt the unmistakable tickle of a bite beneath her jeans, above her ankle.

Time to go.

On top of the twin mattress in the corner lay the stuffed dog, its nose pressed into the wall. Balancing on the spring of a second twin mattress on the floor, she grabbed it.

The silver frame on the window sat on the ledge above it. Pulling the frame in for a closer look, she ignored the second bite on her ankle and stared at the photo. The girls pressed in close around their new Santa fireman friend, giddy grins slapped across each face as they delighted in the surprise visit and euphoria around their united project. It had been a good day. Even Star had her lanky elbows hanging over Cassie’s shoulder as they pressed their faces together, smiling at the camera.

Star. Whatever would she do without her buddy?