Janice was in a hurry. Striding down the inner city neighborhood, she nodded to the porch dwellers who she knew very well, some of them all her life.  She had one thing on her mind this afternoon:  Heather Waters.  Young, shy, awkward for her age.  Quiet watchful eyes peering out under long dark hair.  Always assessing for danger like a forest creature.  Today, this young creature’s forest was on fire.

As Heather’s caseworker she knew the girl and her mother, Amy, probably as well as anyone alive. She certainly cared more about Heather than anyone alive. That probably didn’t count for much on most days. Today, though, was not any ordinary day.  Today, she cared a lot about what happened to Heather.

With the typical overloaded case files, budget cuts, and state investigations coming down on her department like a hail storm, Janice had been distracted lately.  Because of this, she didn’t have much warning when events hit their boiling point.  Worse, she had wasted two whole days trying to get help the ‘Official’ way.  The powers that be were otherwise occupied with the headline grabbing fuckups within Family Protective Services.  No-one was taking much notice of the insignificant disaster that loomed over Amy and her daughter.  Janice’s memos went unread because to them. Heather just wasn’t a headline yet.

Janice walked the neighborhood just a few blocks west from where she herself grew up. These were her streets, by birthright and by official assignment. 

You wouldn’t know it to look at her right off, but there was steel in her eyes, a strength in her build that she hid under her jacket, and a collapsible baton that she hid in her inside pocket. She was someone who got things done, even if it meant doing things that were not in a procedural manual. At 5’ 4”, she projected a much longer shadow.  Proud and educated, tough and smart, and equal parts kind when needed, the people who she thought of as her own people gave her a measure of respect.

“Hey, Janice!” said a younger woman who sat in front of her brown stone apartment building, sharp eyes keeping tabs on her kids playing nearby.

“What’s doin’, Alima?” called back Janice, angling over for a quick confer.  Alima pretty much kept to herself.

But she’ll talk to me, after I helped her out last year when her man had got a little too free with beating on her.

“Nothing much, ‘cept… “she looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “Well, just between us… Hector got drunk again last night.  I could hear them… him beating up on that girlfriend of his.  And the boy, too,” 

“You don’t say…” Janice’s already grim expression hardened a bit.  She made a mental note to check on them. 

Tomorrow.  There’s too much going on today.  When will there ever be enough time?

As a child of the projects, she still had friends, and therefore, eyes down most streets and ears in many hallways all over the east side. Even in the big anonymous city, people saw things, they overheard, and they talked.  

“So, what’s the word on Amy Waters?” Janice said, leaning in a little, mirroring Alima’s secretive demeanor. 

“Well… all I know is, I wouldn’t give two nickels for that girls life.   I mean, nobody cross ‘T’. He out on the street askin’ around about where she could be found just this morning.  You ask me,” she added, snapping her gum from the back of her mouth, “I think he’s really going to make an example of her.”  She shook her head in sympathy, then eying her little one who was headed for the street; “Jeffery!  You get back here now!”

 Terrance T-Bone Byrd, local player and tough guy, fighting for his scraps every day.  It was day by day that he earned his place near the top of the lower strata of local crime.  

“What’s T gonna do about it, you think,” Janice prompted.

She turned back to Janice.  “Oh, I got an idea about what that man up to.  He’d done with Amy now. He about had enough of that.  And who’d blame him? After all the drugs she run.  Tricks she turn for that man. She about worn through. And when that half key of big flake up and disappeared on her? Who care what she say about where it may be.  Oh, no.  It’s not Amy who’ll pay for this.  T-Bone, he want that little girl of hers. He’s always sweet on her, acting all nice to her. Uh uhhh.  I don’t belie’ that.” 

She stopped to light a cigarette, before continuing on mournfully, quietly, another over the shoulder check down the street before she went on.  “No, I think he has plans on that poor girl. My good girlfriend, Carrina, who walks nights for him, she overheard some stuff.  I tell you, you go find that girl and hide her out.  Do some of that official protection magic you do.”

Janice’s mood went from dark grey to midnight black.  She made a little further small talk along other lines, just to make it look like she wasn’t specifically sifting around for info on Amy.  With a wave and a smile back from Alima, she turned and headed briskly back towards where her car was parked at.  Her smile evaporated instantly when she turned the corner.

Behind the wheel, moving slow through the streets and hoping for a chance glimpse of Amy, Janice’s mind spun, gears meshing in a mental clockwork.  Get Amy to the cops?  Amy was no good as a witness of any kind. She was too stupid to rat, and wasn’t credible even if she did. Hide Heather away? 

How long could I pull that off for.  With no official resources to protect her with…  And if I know T-Bone, he won’t quit till he’s found her, in OR out of the system.  Even if I could place her, pretty as she is, she stands a pretty good chance of getting sexually abused even in a safe place.

The whole situation was turning quickly into a no-win. She refused to admit it to herself, but finally she conceded that this just might be the time to pull out her ace in the hole.

As the day gave way towards evening, Janice decided to head over to Amy’s place.  As she drove down the unevenly lit streets, she cursed herself for not knowing or acting sooner. For all she knew, she would get there and find them both gone already. If they were there, she had an option to present to Amy.   A nuclear option.

What she had up her sleeve, was Oliver. Where Janice was street smart, Oliver was a certifiable genius. Where she was connected to the street, he liked to operate at thirty-thousand feet. And where she was always scraping by with what she had at hand, he was seriously, crazy rich. He could on occasion be counted on to help.

When they first met years back, she had heard about his search to find his younger cousin, a runaway girl from a boring middle class family.  Janice had heard things about some new girl that had been seen in the company of some shady characters.  Things like about how young she was, how innocent, and how out of place she had seemed.  Janice connected the dots, figuring this was a solid lead on the missing girl report, so she contacted Oliver. With his resources and her ability to navigate the streets and get folks to talk, they soon had enough information to know for sure that the new girl was his cousin.  They found her mixed up with some pimp who was still in the process of mentally working her over, setting the stage for her future career. With the help of some of Janice's friends in the police department they extracted the girl, minus her virginity but all told a survivor of the ordeal.

Oliver did not make friends as a general rule.  Yet he and Janice remained relatively close friends after the whole painful rescue. She got to know him, and could understand him in some ways better than his peers. That is, if he had peers. She knew him as a dedicated loner. Oliver had his damage, starting with physical deformity and ending with the isolating and hostile worldview that lifelong rejection can produce.

Normally fairly even keeled and mild in mannered on the surface, over the last year and a half his behavior had altered, taking on a sense of deep sadness with a side of desperation.  Though she pressed him gently to open up about his troubles, he would never tell her exactly what it was that was eating at him.  Being the pragmatic street girl that she was, she was not to be put off forever, but gave her friend the time he needed on the subject.

Then, some months back, Oliver had made a very personal, embarrassing, and frankly immoral request of her. It was the kind of request that was only ever made to the most trusted of friends. The kind that came with provisos like “I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but… “and “If you never wanted to speak to me again, I’d understand, but…”  It was the kind of request that could end a friendship.

And in fact, it was more than a month before she spoke to him again.  He caught up with her one afternoon as she was walking down her street from the local grocery.  Hopping off the front stoop of the walk-up he’d been waiting at, he fell into step with her.  At six foot tall, sharply dressed in a way that suggested heavily armed government hit man, and with a bandage/mask that covered the left half of his face and neck, he looked more than just imposing.  He was Frankenstein.  People gave them a wide berth.

She decided to let him do the talking first.  And talk he did.   Finally, he opened up to her. He told her everything.  

“…So now you know.  You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important to me. You know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t at the end of my rope here. I trust your judgment. I’ll accept any answer you give me.”

“Oliver…  I just don’t know. People aren’t possessions like that. Hell, its part of what I do to stop that shit!” Janice gave him a hard glare.

“I know. I wouldn’t treat her, whoever she is, like that. And you know how it'll end. It won’t go on forever.  Probably not very long at all, really.”

Janice said nothing, just stared ahead, not even looking at him now.  

“You don’t have to do it. And I won’t ask anyone else or do it on my own. Promise. If it never happens, then it doesn’t happen. Meanwhile, let’s just forget it and go grab a drink. A big one.”

She looked at him, squinted at him, staring at him right into his eye.  He held her gaze, giving no ground, no apology, and no lie.

“That is some heavy shit, my friend. The least I can do is help you build up a bar bill,” she said.  She didn’t smile.  The conversation wasn’t one for smiling about. But now at least, she thought she understood him.

That had been months ago, and she never would have expected a situation would arise where she would even consider his request.  Until tonight.  

The night time, is the right time.  She thought randomly, squinting out the drizzle spattered windshield. Pulling up outside the banged up apartment building, she pushed down the rising adrenaline surge.

This is just another site visit. Just another night of unpaid overtime. Nothing unusual here. And besides, I’m not fully committed yet.  If I can find another way, then we’ll just have to do that instead.

She waited in her car, counting raindrops, until she was sure that she could project her normal  self-assured demeanor into the world again.  Sure that neither T-bone nor any of his thugs had just entered the building, either.  Finally, she swung the door of the car open and hopped out, locked the car, climbed up the stairs because the elevator was out of commission and had been for all the months she’d been coming here. Approaching the apartment, she knocked on the door.

Footsteps shuffled quietly to the door.

“Who is it?” said a timid voice behind the door.

“It’s me, Janice. Open up?” she called through the steel door. Click, click, rattle went the locks and chains. Finally the door inched open.

“Mom’s not here,” Heather said apprehensively. Her eyes flicked to the living room behind her.

“I wanted to check in on you, and I wanted to talk with your mother,” Janice said. “My God, girl, have you eaten today? I’ll bet you haven’t.  Can I come in?”

“Well… Ok, I guess,” Heather replied, looking aside again with a worried expression.

Janice’s street senses kicked up a bad feeling. “Hey, kiddo… your Mom’s here, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Over on the couch. She’s having one of her really bad days. She’s… She’s been using again.”

Janice went over to the couch. Amy looked faintly blue in the face and lips. When she could not rouse her, she put her hand to Amy’s neck.  Her pulse was very weak, but the skin was still warm.  She watched her chest… felt for her breath… it was barely present.

Oh, shit…  Shit, Shit, Shit!  This is not going the way I wanted!

Any doubts she had were swept aside. She was way out in the middle of the big river; it was time to swim with the current.

“Heather, you’ve got to come with me now, ok?  I’m gonna call for some help for your mom. I want you to go grab some clothes and come stay with me for the night. Ok?  Can you do that for me?” She gave her best reassuring ‘I’m in control of this’ expression.

Heather looked from Janice to her mom, back again, her expression worried.

“Well, ok, but just for a night?”

“Sure, sweetie. Let’s go, chop chop.  I’m going to call for help.  You get your stuff.” She managed to keep her voice even keeled and controlled.

Heather ran off to the back room.  When Janice heard her open a closet door, she went over to the phone on the kitchen wall and, using a piece of paper towel, picked up the phone and dialed.

“911, what is your Emergency… *pause*   Hello? Hello!? …”   with two-fingered deliberation, Janice fumbled the receiver, rubbed it along the counter for a second and then dropped it to the floor behind the counter where it banged loudly. Faintly from the floor she heard, “… you hear me?  If you can hear me, can you  ...”   Janice walked away into the back room to help Heather collect her few things.

“You ready then?”   

Heather gave a deep breath, then with practiced bravado,

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Ok, let’s not wake your mom, she’s not feeling well, and help’s on its way right now.”  

Heather nodded, grabbing her schoolbag which was now loaded with spare clothes.  Then she simply walked out of the bedroom following Janice, down the stairs, and to the waiting car.

An hour later, back at Janice’s apartment, Heather was sprawled on the couch. A mostly empty mug of hot chocolate sat cooling on the coffee table in front of her.  In the hot chocolate was a moderate dose of Rohypnol.

Janice paced by the window, dialing Oliver for the third time.  It being 11:00, she expected that he might be asleep.  Finally, he answered.

His voice was thick “Janice? Hey…. sorry, I’m a bit out of it.  What’s wrong…  Is something wrong?”

“Do you remember the girl I was talking about with you two weeks ago?  The one that was in danger of being taken by her mothers… boss? You remember the one.”

“Yeah?” he said cautiously, quickly wide awake now.

“Well… Something’s come up.  Big time. I hope you’re ready for this.”

The sound of a deep breath came back across the airwaves.  Then “Really?  Right now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“Ok… Ok.  I’m at the ranch.  Let’s meet up along the highway.  You remember the camping grounds in the forest that’s closed for the season?”

“Yeah, I do.  Alright. I’ll see you there.”  She hung up.  And just like that, it was done.