The Wages of Sin by Nancy Allen Read Free Book Online Page B

passenger seat of Tina Peroni’s Volkswagen.
    â€œSo you got a good foster care placement for her?”
    â€œYeah, pretty good, actually. A young ­couple with a baby, Holly and Dale Hickman. I think they’re taking in a foster child so the mom can afford to stay home with the infant. But she’s nice; he has steady employment; and they have a stable home life. And it keeps Ivy in her same grade school.”
    Tina fell silent, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove down a residential street. Elsie was reassured by Tina’s words. She had a high opinion of Tina Peroni and considered her a friend. Tina was dedicated and savvy; and despite twenty years in social work, had not succumbed to burnout. They had worked as a team on many cases involving child victims, most recently the Kris Taney case—­a father who’d abused his daughters, and was currently serving a life sentence for rape as a result of their efforts.
    Elsie glanced over at Tina. “So that’s good, right? Ivy doesn’t have to adjust to a new school, with all the other upheaval in her life.”
    Tina nodded. Pulling up beside a small ranch style house covered in yellow aluminum siding, she adjusted her glasses. “There she is. Sitting right out front.”
    Elsie rolled down the window to get a good look. A bespectacled child wearing a purple T-­shirt sat on the concrete steps of the yellow house.
    Tina tapped Elsie’s arm. “You want to talk to the foster mother first?”
    â€œNo. I want to see the kid. Get a feel for her, see what I’m dealing with.”
    As Elsie and Tina walked up the asphalt-­covered driveway, the child peered at them through her glasses, her face a blank. When they approached the steps, Tina said, “Hi, Ivy. I’m Tina, back to see you and your foster mom again. How’s it going?”
    Ivy blinked. “Okay.” She pushed up her glasses. They sat at a crooked angle on her face.
    â€œThis is Elsie. She works at the courthouse, and she’s a friend of mine. Can she sit out here while I go inside and talk?”
    â€œI guess,” Ivy said.
    Tina gave Elsie an encouraging wink and stepped up to the doorbell. As Tina entered the house, Elsie settled down beside Ivy.
    The girl dipped into a can of blue Play-­Doh resting at her side and pulled out a fist-­sized lump. With a deft hand, she rolled it on the step.
    â€œI got new shoes. And a new backpack,” Ivy said.
    Elsie brightened. The topic of new property was a fine place to commence an acquaintance. “A new backpack is totally cool,” Elsie said. “What color?”
    â€œBlue. I like blue. It got a princess on it.”
    Elsie flashed a confident smile; she might be on the dark side of thirty, but she knew the Disney girls backwards and forward. “I bet you picked Cinderella.”
    Ivy shrugged, concentrating on rolling the blue dough into a snake. But Elsie persisted.
    â€œBecause if the dress is blue, it’s Cinderella. Blue dress? Blond hair? Ribbon at her neck?”
    Ivy didn’t answer. She scratched her nose. An angry rash circled both sides of her nostrils.
    It seemed to Elsie that she wasn’t gaining ground with the Disney princess angle. She shifted to a direct approach.
    â€œIvy. I’m so sorry about your mama.”
    Ivy’s face closed. Thrusting her hand into the Play-­Doh can, she dug out a blue lump and popped it into her mouth.
    Elsie gasped. “Don’t,” she said, more sharply than she intended.
    Ivy looked up through the smudged eyeglasses set askew on her nose. “What?”
    â€œOh, Ivy, sweetheart. You don’t eat it. Spit it out.”
    Ivy chewed, with a rebellious expression. “It’s good.”
    Elsie watched the girl’s chin move as the ball of dough made a wad in her cheek. She looked like a man dipping snuff, enjoying a chew from a can of Skoal.
    â€œIt’s bad for