Page 6 of Heal
Parson fought back a wave of nausea as he stared at the police report that was on his desk. He'd read through it three times, each time feeling sicker than he had before. How could people do things like that to a child? He wasn't stupid enough to think it didn't happen, but to have proof of it sitting on his desk was a reality he really could have done without.
He sat back, swiping his fingers through his thick red hair as he tried to digest what he'd just read. Four kids, all from the same foster home, all abused, and now being treated for injuries in the hospital. He didn't even want to think about the injuries. Thankfully, the police report didn't go into much detail, but it was enough for him to know that it was bad, very bad.
What was he supposed to say to the kids? How was he supposed to find them a new home, a safe home, one that he could promise wouldn't hurt them again? Maybe he hadn't been on the job long enough to be as hardened as some of his co-workers, but honestly, he didn't want to ever harden to things like this. This kind of abuse should have an effect on him. It should bother him. The day it didn't was the day he would quit his job and give his life a good look.
It was because of cases like this that he'd decided to work for Child Protective Services. He wanted to change things, make it better for the kids they helped.
He'd seen what could happen to kids abused in foster care. His best friend growing up had committed suicide after being abused in a foster home. She'd chosen to take her own life because there had been no one she could trust in her life to help her.
He'd been too young to see the signs. He knew she was upset, knew about the rape. He'd tried to talk to her, but being a fourteen-year-old teenager, struggling with his own sexuality, he had no clue how to help her. Now, he wished he'd at least tried. Her death had changed him, made him acknowledge the evil in the world and hope to somehow change it.
By taking a job with CPS, he hoped to make sure that the things that had happened to Beth didn't happen to other children, but now, he stared down at the file on his desk at four more kids being hurt by people they should have been able to trust.
His temper flared, wishing he could get his hands on the foster parents who had done this. The first thing he'd feared was that this had been a family he'd interviewed, but it had been another caseworker who had placed the children in the home and had supposedly followed up with them.
How could a trained caseworker miss this kind of abuse going on? Had it just started? He had so many questions, but the police report didn't fill in the holes. It only stated what the police had found when they'd arrived. He needed more information.
He wasn't going to be able to talk to the children right away. It really wasn't his place to contact the children. Counselors would do that. It still didn't stop him from wanting to know more, and to make sure that the kids were going to be okay.
When the time came to put them back into foster care, it would be his job to make sure the family they went to would take care of them. No matter what it took, he would find these kids a good home. He wouldn't fail them. They'd been through enough.
From reading the police report, it was clear the kids would probably be in the hospital a few days, if not longer, but he needed to know exactly how bad things were. He couldn't plan without knowing that the kids might need, or how long before he would need to find them new homes.
More than anything, he hoped he could find a home to take both the brother and sister. It was rare that they could keep siblings together, but they tried when it was possible. In this case, he was sure that it would do more harm than good to split them up now.
He'd placed a call to the hospital, but they had refused to release any information other than the kids were stable. He'd been referred to the doctor handling the case, but had yet to call him. His gut told him he wouldn't get much help from the doctor, but he had to try.
Parson tapped the number in on his office phone and waited, not shocked when it went to voicemail. He didn't know a doctor who ever answered on the first call. His caller ID would have come up CPS, and that would probably deter the doctor from answering in the first place.
He was more than aware that CPS was ultimately to blame for everything. They'd placed the children with the pedophiles. They'd somehow failed to follow-up on things properly. It was clear from the file he had read that the oldest child had said the abuse had been going on for years. How was it missed?
Frustrated, he started typing on his computer, pulling up the complete history of the children and the foster family they were placed with. There had to have been some sign that there was abuse going on. You couldn't cover something like this up. Well, obviously you could, because they had, but was that just the foster family being good at covering their ass or had it been because CPS failed to do their job?
He quickly made notes of everything he found. Everything was there, the home visits, the yearly doctor exams, even school records, but how could that be? If these kids were in school, surely someone would have seen the signs of abuse. He typed the name of the school, not shocked to find that there was no school by that name in the area. How was that overlooked? Again, he made note of the caseworker's name who had been working the case before it was handed to him.
The caseworker in question had died of a heart attack almost a month ago. That was why the case was handed to him. He didn't know the caseworker personally, but he had been with CPS for nearly thirty years, and from what he'd heard, he had a good reputation.
Parson wasn't impressed. Somehow, this guy had missed all the warning signs.
There was nothing more he could do until the children were released from medical care. They would end up in a group home until a new placement could be made, but that would take time since there would be evaluations and counseling sessions with the kids before they were allowed to go into a new home. It was all so frustrating.
There was nothing more he could do today. He would just have to wait and try to focus on the other cases he had been assigned. Most of them were first-time placements, and those were always hard. Not knowing what the children were like, it was hard to match them with a family. Still, he was determined to do the best he could.
He spent the next few hours working on other cases, but the abuse case never left his mind. Something bothered him. It was more than just the abuse, which was bad enough, but his gut told him there was something more, something he was missing.
A quick glance at the clock told him it was after five, so he shut down his computer and gathered his things. He'd just made it out to his car when his cell phone rang. He settled in the front seat as he answered, "hello?"
"Parson, how are you?" His father's voice came over the phone.
Parson bit back a sigh. "New number, Dad?"
"No, just calling from one you didn't know, hoping you'd answer. It worked." His dad's voice held just enough anger that it was clear he was upset. "How long did you think you could avoid me?"
"I figured you'd show up at my door sooner or later." Parson snapped his seatbelt into place.
"I just want what's best for you, Son."
"What's best for you isn't always what is best for me, Dad. I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions now."
