Free Dying for Love by Rita Herron

police before.
    “One of the boys who stays here is missing?” he asked.
    She twirled the fringe on the end of her snow hat. “That’s what Ms. Terri said. The kids were playing hide-and-seek. But we looked everywhere and can’t find him.”
    John ground his teeth at the wariness in the little girl’s face. Foster kids usually came with baggage. They were distrustful, had attachment issues, had experienced domestic abuse, were angry from being moved from one home to the next. “Has he ever run away?”
    She shook her head. “Ronnie ain’t been here long. Just a couple of days.”
    “What do you know about his family?”
    The little girl rocked back and forth, sending snow falling from the metal bars. “His mama’s a meth addict. Got locked up for it.”
    Yeah, this kid was already world-weary. “And his father?”
    “Shot and killed himself.”
    Good Lord. Poor kid.
    “If he ran away, where would he go?”
    The little girl shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t like the cold or to play outside so we looked in all the closets. But he ain’t in there.”
    The foster mother approached, tugging her hood over her ears. She looked a little rough about the edges, her skin milky pale and dry, her eyes tired. “I’m Terri Eckerton. Ronnie didn’t run away.”
    “You’re sure about that?” John asked.
    She nodded, jiggling the baby. “He’s not that kind of kid. Not adventurous or the kind to wander off.”
    Coulter walked over to question the girls. Maybe he’d glean some information John hadn’t. Sometimes witnesses or family members offered different stories, or added details they might have forgotten.
    John directed his comment toward Terri. “So Ronnie was happy about being here?”
    “None of the kids are happy about being here,” Terri said with a note of sad acceptance in her tone. “They all miss their mamas and daddies. But I do the best I can to make it a decent place for them.”
    That wasn’t John’s experience, and he’d grown cynical.
    “Besides, Ronnie has asthma and knows he can’t be without his inhaler.” She gestured toward an army-green backpack on the ground by the fence. “It’s in there, along with the picture of his mother he keeps. He wouldn’t leave that behind.”
    John couldn’t argue with that logic.
    The baby whimpered, and she stuck a pacifier in his mouth.
    The redheaded kid pushing the tire swing ran over and pulled at her arm.
    Terri used sign language with the boy, speaking as she did. “What is it, Toby?”
    He responded with his hands, and John adjusted his opinion of the woman. She might not be financially well off, but she seemed to care about the children under her charge. “Go on to the bathroom. I’ll check on you in a minute.”
    “When did you first realize Ronnie was missing?”
    “We had lunch, and I was cleaning up, but the kids were going stir crazy so I told them they could play outside for a few minutes. I put the baby down for a nap, then checked on the others. That’s when I saw the backpack on the ground.”
    John narrowed his eyes. “The kids were left unattended outside?”
    Anger flashed in the woman’s eyes. “The yard is fenced in. I can see it from the window in the kitchen.”
    “But not from the baby’s room?” John guessed.
    She patted the baby’s back as he started to fuss again. “No. But it only took a minute to put him down.”
    John grimaced. “A minute is all it takes for something to go terribly wrong.”

    Amelia had to talk to someone. And she didn’t want to bother Sadie with her troubles. She’d been a burden to her sister all her life.
    So she left Sadie and the baby and drove straight to see her therapist. She parked on the side of the road in front of the office, but just as she stepped out, a pickup raced by, swerving toward her.
    Amelia screamed and jumped behind her car to avoid being hit. Icy sludge and snow splattered all over her.
    Shivering, she wiped at the mess as the truck raced away.
    She