Chapters (40)
- Praise for Our Little Secret
- Title Page
- Dedication
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Prologue
- PART ONETHE GUARDER
- ALEXANDRA
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- PART TWOTHE RUNNER
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- PART THREETHE THIEF
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- ALEX
- RUTH
- DISCUSSION GUIDE QUESTIONS
- Also Available by Roz Nay
- 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.