Page 36 of Minted

“Sure,” Seren says. “But be warned. Alice is. . .a lot.”

“That’s fine,” I say.

Only, I’m not expecting her to be quite so brusque. You’d think that social workers would be the first in line to try and help a child. “You have no evidence that these kids need a single thing,” she says. “You have guesses and supposition. Their mom could have the flu. She could be working two jobs. She’s replying to emails, they have an apartment to live in—unless you have more evidence than that, we have no right to even investigate. I can’t document that we have a hunch there’s something wrong, or that they allegedly forged a signature. I’d need to investigate half the kids at every school in America if that was enough.”

“But—”

“If you find out something concrete, or if there’s any real cause for you to think these kids aren’t safe, call me back, but not before then.”

Evidence? She wants evidence? Fine.

My next call is to Bentley. “I have a weird favor to ask.”

“Stranger than pretending to be your boyfriend or swapping cars so I look like a regular guy?”

That makes me laugh. “Maybe.” I explain what I want him to do, and after he agrees and reroutes to meet me here, I do a little research. By the time he gets here, I’m ready. I hand him a box that’s actually still hot.

“Pizza?”

“This place is the closest pizza parlor to their apartment, and I’m guessing they’ve ordered from it before. Probably regularly.” At least, the guy said they only open for delivery, and pizza is like delivery 101. Especially for little kids.

“Okay.”

“So you need to tell them that they won the pizza, and then when they open the door, walk right on in to deliver it to their table.”

“And you’re going to follow me, say Boo, and take a look around?”

“You’re making it sound creepy,” I say. “I’m going to just peek in and see if their mother is anywhere to be found.”

“And if she’s not?” He arches one eyebrow.

“Then I’m going to ruin Alice’s night.”

“Who’s Alice?”

“The social worker who thinks I’m crazy.”

He nods. “So we have all the players assembled. The two kids, the marketing busybody, the social worker who thinks you’re crazy, and your friend who also thinks you’re crazy, but who’s too afraid of you to say no.”

I shove his shoulder.

“Just promise me one thing,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m not going to be in jail at the end of the night, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Just go. It’s that one on the end.” I point. He looks back at me twice, but on the third time, I wave him forward and toss my head. “Go already.”

He knocks lightly.

“Hello?” I can barely hear them from where I’m standing, two doors down.

“Pizza delivery.”

“We didn’t order pizza,” one of them says.

“You won this one—it’s a large half pepperoni, half cheese. It’s our most popular pie.”

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