Free Iron Mike by Patricia Rose Page A

pointed to the huge building off to the right: the dairy farm that had long-ago been converted to Tomorrow’s Child Daycare Center. It was the largest public daycare center in Shepherdsville, and it served half of Bullitt County as well; Jenn went there a few times during the summers they stayed at Gran’s.
    Mike bit back a curse, lowering his window halfway as the woman ran over to him. She was wearing colorful Bambi scrubs and tennis shoes – no coat or jacket.
    “Please help!” she said frantically, before Mike could even speak. “There are ten children whose parents haven’t come for them, and my manager and the other workers are dead!”
    Mike’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, and he glanced over at Kari. She merely raised an eyebrow, offering no comment. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t –“
    “Hey, Miss Annie!” Jenn chirped from the back seat. The woman glanced toward the voice, smiling as she saw Jenn. “Jenni? Jenni Sanderlin? Girl, look how you’ve grown!”
    Jenn remembered the woman. Shit. With a heavy sigh, Mike pulled over, driving into the fenced parking lot that surrounded the daycare center. He pocketed the keys and shifted slightly, putting the Ruger into his waistband behind his back and covering it with his jacket. He ignored Kari’s look of surprise, and the three of them got out of the SUV, while Miss Annie finally started to cry with relief.
    The inside of the daycare center was much as Mike remembered it from the few times he’d come with Gran to pick Jennifer up. The entrance foyer was the size of a small bedroom, and the three walls held colorful hooks at about waist level, with children’s coats and jackets hung neatly and their shoes or boots set in orderly rows around the walls. Mike froze for a moment, having an unexpected flashback to the thousands of shoes he’d seen at the Holocaust Museum last summer. His stomach tightened, and he forced himself to disregard the similarity. She said ten children. There were well over three dozen pairs of shoes in the foyer.
    “We lost thirty-six children,” Miss Annie told Mike, her voice tight with emotion, “and nine daycare workers, including the owner and manager.” Her voice turned slightly bitter. “And when it happened – when the children – well, Miss June panicked. She said her own family came first, and she flew out of here, taking the daycare’s van!”
    Mike glanced in to the main playroom where Jennifer already sat with the small, strangely quiet group of children, picking up one of the babies and cuddling him in her lap.
    He nodded absently, his brain working rather than listening to the woman. Kari wandered in after Jenn and took her heavy down jacket off, sitting with the children and starting up a clapping game with one of the girls. He heard the sounds of “Miss Mary Mack” and tuned them out, concentrating on the woman. “Have you heard from any of the parents?” he asked quietly.
    “Kelsey and Tamara’s mother picked them up. She’s the only one. I don’t know what to do …”
    “Mike,” he supplied, looking back into the other room.
    “Mike,” Miss Annie said. “I don’t know what to do. We’re low on food because deliveries were due today, but even more, these kids need to be in a shelter or with social services so they can find their families!”
    “I thought you said ten kids,” Mike mused. “There are twelve, not counting Jenn.”
    “Jacob and Ashton are my grandbabies,” Miss Annie said, indicating the baby Jenn was holding and a big-eyed toddler with a pacifier in his mouth. “I have car seats in my Rio, of course, and I’d like to try to find my daughter and son-in-law.”
    Mike sighed as he finally understood what Miss Annie wanted. “I don’t know where the FEMA shelters are,” he kept his voice gentle as he continued, “or even if there are any shelters set up at all yet. As unprepared as the government was for Katrina, I have a feeling that was a cakewalk