Free Damaged by Lisa Scottoline Page A

conduct a forensic interview, which is videotaped and admissible in court. Give them the heads-up that you’re taking him over.”
    â€œThanks. Will do.” Mary nodded, sliding her phone from her pocket.

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    The modern gray complex of low-rise buildings on Hunting Park Avenue housed all of children’s welfare services under one roof: PCA, or the Philadelphia Children’s Alliance, DHS, or the Department of Human Services, and the Police Department’s SVU, or Special Victims Unit. The striking architecture of the buildings stood out in this gritty industrial section of Hunting Park.
    â€œThe building looks nice,” Mary chirped, trying to lighten the mood. She was driving the O’Briens in her car, with Edward in the front seat and Patrick in the back, and on the ride over, both of them had looked out of their respective windows, saying nothing the entire time. Mary understood that not all families were as talkative as hers, that men talked less than women, and that nobody talked as much as Italian-American women, so she didn’t take it personally even if it was a culture shock.
    Mary pulled into the lower lot and parked, but left the engine running for the air-conditioning. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Patrick. “Hey, pal, how you doing back there?”
    â€œOkay.” Patrick didn’t look away from the window.
    â€œLet me explain to you what’s going to happen inside.” Mary had gotten the basics from the receptionist when she’d called to say they were coming in. “This is no big deal. There’s going to be a nice lady and she’s going to ask you what happened, just like with the police, and you should just tell her the truth. There’s nothing to worry about or be nervous about. Okay?”
    â€œOkay.” Patrick still didn’t look away from the window, so Mary turned around to face him, and in the daylight, she could see that his bruise was larger than she’d thought, though it was faint.
    â€œYou’re not worried, are you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo you have any questions before we go in?”
    â€œNo.” Patrick kept turned to the window.
    â€œYou sure? You can ask me anything, you know that.”
    â€œI know.” Patrick shrugged.
    Edward turned, emitting a low grunt as he twisted around in the seat. “Patrick, look at Mary when she’s talking to you. She’s trying to help you.”
    Mary said, “Edward, it’s okay—”
    â€œWait, I have a question.” Patrick turned to Mary. “How do you get the air-conditioning in your car to be so good?”
    Mary smiled. “I keep it on high.”
    â€œI like it.” Patrick smiled back, which Mary thought was adorable.
    â€œGood. Any other questions?”
    â€œIs this place we’re going air-conditioned?”
    â€œYes, I’m sure it is.” Mary chuckled.
    â€œDo they keep it on high?”
    â€œI’m sure they do.”
    Edward shook his head. “Patrick—”
    â€œLet’s go,” Mary interrupted, preempting what she sensed was going to be a reprimand. She liked Edward, but she could see that he was getting crankier as the day went on, and though she understood his reaction, her focus was Patrick. The boy was the one who had been beaten up and now had to answer questions about it, twice in a row. The three of them got out of the car, and Mary led the way through the parking lot. She noticed that Patrick bopped along at Edward’s side, but they didn’t hold hands, which must have been another cultural difference. Mary’s mother didn’t let go of Mary’s hand in parking lots until sometime last year.
    They reached the Philadelphia Children’s Alliance entrance, which was of frosted glass with a transparent single door. Patrick scooted forward to open the door for them, glancing up at Edward for approval, but Edward was already walking