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Chapters (40)
  1. Praise for Our Little Secret
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  5. Prologue
  6. PART ONETHE GUARDER
  7. ALEXANDRA
  8. RUTH
  9. ALEX
  10. RUTH
  11. ALEX
  12. RUTH
  13. ALEX
  14. RUTH
  15. ALEX
  16. RUTH
  17. ALEX
  18. PART TWOTHE RUNNER
  19. ALEX
  20. RUTH
  21. ALEX
  22. RUTH
  23. PART THREETHE THIEF
  24. ALEX
  25. RUTH
  26. ALEX
  27. RUTH
  28. ALEX
  29. RUTH
  30. ALEX
  31. RUTH
  32. ALEX
  33. RUTH
  34. ALEX
  35. RUTH
  36. ALEX
  37. RUTH
  38. DISCUSSION GUIDE QUESTIONS
  39. Also Available by Roz Nay
  40. AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY

He nods like the problem is solved. I leave his office and head to mine, where the walls are uncluttered. All I have is one poster by my desk: the Hulk smashing things. I admire his approach to adversity. I try firing up my laptop, but my hands are shaky on the keyboard. Why am I the only one willing to go the extra mile for a child in danger? I wrap a curl of my hair around my forefinger, chew on the end of it. With an open Family Services file, the entire history of the Floyds becomes more available. Confidentiality laws can be circumvented by a legal exchange of information between social workers, police departments, health administrators. Minerva might have told Morris that there’s no need for an active investigation into Frank and Evelyn, and he might not have sanctioned one, but didn’t he also say that as workers we all have our own approach? I grab my bag and head back toward reception, passing Minerva in the hallway.

“Oh, hi,” she says, resting a flat palm on my forearm. “Listen, I hope you don’t mind that I spoke with Morris about the Buster case. I just feel that as a team, we need to work together more. Be more like glue.”

You’re on glue, I want to tell her, but I manage not to.

“No problem.” I move away. “We’re all doing our best.” Some bests are better than others.

“Where are you going now?” she asks.

“I’m meeting Sully.” It’s not true, of course, but it’ll sting, and I know it. I exit through the security door and walk fast to the elevators.

Outside, the temperature has dropped and glacial air hits me as I head across town. I pass the police department, but I can’t go in there. I’ve just spent half an hour telling Sully how frustrating it is that there’s no Floyd investigation. He told me to record my concerns and trust my boss; it’s not advice I’m taking. I carry on past the station. From a block away, the Moses River Health building sags in its own gray drabness, a metaphor in brick, heaving under the sadness it contains. I head straight in and take the stairs to the second floor, to the offices of Mental Health and Addictions.