Free Child of Silence by Abigail Padgett Page A

rumpled and steely-eyed. Madge out of character in mindlessly donned sweatshirt and immense khakis that must belong to her husband. As she talked on the phone Madge held up the pants with her free hand. To keep from laughing Bo thought about Annie Garcia.

    How had the old Indian woman done it, she wondered. How had she called up a visual memory that could have had no meaning for her when it was encoded? No reason to remember.
     
    Tucking the receiver under her chin, Bo handed the slip of paper to a San Diego P.D. detective named Denny. “This may be part of a license number from a car seen near where the boy was found,” she told him.

    “I'll see if we’ve got anything,” Denny responded, and headed for a wall phone.

    “Bo, are you. . . okay?” Estrella whispered in the empty office, as if somebody might overhear, guess the secret. “I mean, this is enough to make anybody crazy, having a kid on your caseload shot at!”

    Bo cupped a hand over the phone's mouthpiece. “No, I'm not okay. Not since early this morning. But I've got the lithium already. I'm on top of it.”

    She knew she was talking too fast, showing too much feeling. Estrella didn't miss it.

    “Oh, sheet !” she shouted. “Bo, you've got to get away from this. Get away from Madge before she figures out there's something wrong with you. She'll crucify you.”

    “I know,” Bo agreed. “But, Es, I just have this feeling. If you could see him, see Weppo. . . he's so... alone .”

    “He's not alone! He's got the three biggest bureaucracies in San Diego on his side. Cops, social workers, doctors. He'll be fine. But you won't...”

    Bo could see the boy, awake in his room across from the nurses' station. An armed uniformed cop stood at the door. Rudy Palachek was inside, teaching the child to sign colors. They'd mastered red. Weppo was still alive and had learned to sign a color. Bo couldn't find words to explain the miracle.

    “Es,” she whispered, “I can't walk away from this. I'll be all right. Don't worry.”

    “I will worry. Get home as soon as you can. Or come over to our place. I'll have Henry make up the guest bed. And don't worry about Mildred. She's right here, and she's going home with me. Nobody's going to hurt her. Henry will see to that. You know how he loves her.”

    “Thanks, Es,” Bo whispered. After hearing of the threat, Madge had arranged for Estrella to pick up the dog from the hospital before going over to the office to help draft the voluminous paperwork required by the situation. A district attorney was on his way to sign the petition. Bo experienced an exaggerated wave of affection for her coworkers that brought tears to her eyes.
     
    A small voice warned, “Delusional. Don't get smarmy!” But Bo didn't have time to listen. Bill Denny was waving the scrap of paper bearing a star and three numbers.

    “Gotta go, Es.” Bo hung up the phone.
     
    Madge and LaMarche appeared to be arguing as Bill Denny passed them. Bo heard her name in the conversation.

    “Bingo!” Denny smiled grimly. “A stolen car. Registered in Houston to a guy named Barry Velk. He reported it stolen two weeks ago to the Houston ED. The star was the big clue. Texas plates, the older ones, have a star over the numbers. This one was 351-687. Squash yellow, just like you said. A Mercury. And. . .”

    Bo was elated. “And this Velk? Who is he? Does he know anything about Weppo?”

    Bill Denny shook his head. “Nah. When the auto theft guys called him yesterday to tell him his car was found here he just said he went to a movie one night, and when he came out, his car was gone. But—”

    “The car was found yesterday in San Diego? Where?”

    Bill Denny pushed the loose frame of his aviator glasses up an aquiline nose and sighed. “Downtown. Early morning. Some wino was gonna sleep in it. But if you'd slow down and let me finish, I'd tell you the big news.”

    Bo bit her lower lip and was silent.

    “The wino found a stiff in the