The Baby Cop. Roz Fox Denny

morning.” Ethan proceeded to tell his friend how, on a couple of occasions, Regan Grant had reacted oddly to Taz.

      Mitch whistled. “If you want my advice—which you never take but which I’ll give you, anyway—write her off. She sounds phobic. You have about as much chance of a zebra losing its stripes as you do of unscrambling someone’s phobia.”

      “You may be right,” Ethan mumbled. But he knew there was something about Regan that made him want to try.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      IN THE QUIET following Ethan’s departure, Regan sorted out the files of clients she planned to visit that afternoon. She couldn’t shake Jeremy’s case from her mind. Experience had taught her that no matter how inadequate—or destructive—a child’s biological parents, they often exerted enduring ties broke only by death. Sometimes not then. Frequently the guilt attached to hating what a parent was or did followed children into adulthood.

      Deciding Odella’d had time to return to her office, Regan picked up the phone. “Odella, it’s Regan. After you left, I started to wonder who in the agency will inform Jeremy Smith of his mother’s arrest.” Regan listened to Odella explain that the boy’s regular counselor was on vacation. Since Jeremy had a good relationship with the Knights, she went on to say, perhaps the chore should fall to them.

      “It’s our responsibility,” Regan argued. “He’s under our jurisdiction. How he accepts the news may have a bearing on whether we should proceed with adoption or name-change requests.”

      “I doubt it,” Odella said. “If you’re concerned, I don’t mind asking Ethan to tell Jeremy about Shontelle. Ethan has a way with kids, and Jeremy idolizes him.”

      Regan rubbed at a furrow that had apparently taken up permanent residence between her eyebrows since Ethan Knight had burst into her life. “I ought to run this by Nathaniel. If he’s in favor of contacting Shontelle’s attorney, I’ll visit Jeremy at school. We’ve met, and he’s aware that I planned to look into his petition for a name change. Adoption, though, is so final. He needs to know it’ll likely end any further association with his birth mother. I’ll call you. Do you have a cell phone?”

      Jotting down the number, Regan signed off. She collected Jeremy’s file and walked slowly toward their director’s office, rehearsing what she’d say as she went.

      Piggot was alone, just shrugging into his suit jacket. It was evident from the bulging briefcase and car keys lying on his desk that he was heading out.

      “I only need a moment,” Regan said. “Something’s come up with one of our kids, and it needs immediate attention before we can progress.”

      Piggot beckoned her past his administrative assistant’s empty desk. “I’m on my way to Phoenix to a state budget meeting. If your question involves money, the answer is no. I warned you about the staff here, did I not? With them, everything’s an emergency.”

      Regan quickly explained what she’d learned from Odella about Jeremy Smith’s mother.

      “Odella Price is always pushy.” Pacing the room, Nathaniel tugged at his lower lip. “However, pushy or not, she’s been instrumental in reducing our welfare rolls. The governor’s finance team likes to see dwindling numbers. So I’m glad the Smith woman, or whatever her name is now, has become Utah’s financial burden. If Odella can get the kid adopted so we can quit shelling out bucks to foster him, I say go for it.” Hefting his briefcase, the director herded Regan into his reception area. “Otherwise, how are you doing?” he asked as they proceeded down the hall together. “My assistant tells me you’re probing into Anna M.’s shortcuts. I’m pleased. My predecessor appointed Anna, you know. She was too well entrenched in the civil-service grade system to get rid of by the time I took over. Believe me, I wanted to fire her.”

      Regan frowned. “Her methods may be questionable, but so far the foster homes she set up—the ones I’ve visited, anyway—are excellent. Far above average.”

      “I don’t doubt it. Under Anna, our welfare rolls exploded. She and that damned cop, the one our esteemed commissioner calls the Baby Cop, set about placing every kid who showed even minor neglect into foster care. That overran our budget, and I don’t mind telling you my tenure’s under scrutiny because of it. I trust you’ll reverse the damage they’ve done.”

      “I…I’ll do my best.” Regan paused a few steps from the staff lounge. She wasn’t prepared to have this conversation. Up to now, in the case histories she’d read and the homes she’d visited, there’d been no sign of any children being placed who weren’t clearly in need of help.

      Nathaniel patted her shoulder with a fleshy hand. “I’m counting on you to whip this department into shape, Regan. I’m sorry to rush off. One day soon, after I get the budget done, we’ll have lunch, and I’ll lay out my cost-cutting ideas. By the way, have you fired Danielle Hargreaves? I’d like to be able to tell the boys in Phoenix that we’ve eliminated one salary.”

      “I…um, no. Dani’s carrying a big caseload. All our caseworkers are over the limit already. She’s at the low end of the pay scale. We couldn’t replace her for less.”

      “Don’t replace her. I’m trying to cut costs. Are you saying every caseworker we employ is working the maximum number of cases?”

      “All of them are over the recommended limit.”

      “Find out how many cases are legitimate and how many aren’t. By Monday’s meeting, Regan, I want a count of the number we serve who are in Desert City illegally. Our federal program director said it’s causing some state rolls to triple.”

      “Can we even get a count? The illegal population in Phoenix had an underground system rivaling none. Hungry kids just showed up at homes that already had caseworkers assigned, and of course, we added them in.”

      “Well, I won’t tolerate that in Desert City. We have the federal government’s backing. I will not increase our budget to feed nonresidents. Period!” Nathaniel was practically frothing at the mouth, the subject apparently made him so livid.

      Regan found his stand unconscionable. “Are you saying we should let kids starve on our streets because an adult smuggled them across the border?”

      “I’m saying we’re not responsible for feeding or clothing anyone who hasn’t come to Desert City through proper channels. I don’t condone breaking immigration rules any more than I approve the methods by which Anna and her pet cop foisted ragtag kids onto our system. I expect you to support me in this, Regan.”

      “Aren’t you comparing apples and oranges? It’s one thing to disagree with placement methods. It’s another to refuse basic services to hungry destitute families.”

      Piggot’s jowls shook in time with the pudgy finger he wagged in Regan’s face. “I didn’t bring you into the department to question my edicts. I moved your application ahead of others because I believed you had the balls for the job. If not, I can easily replace you. One way or another, this city’s welfare numbers will be reduced.”

      He stomped off, leaving Regan staring after him in shock. By the time she managed to control her own burst of temper, she was surrounded by staff who’d been on break in the lounge and overheard her heated exchange with Nathaniel.

      “Piggot’s a bastard!” Terry Mickelson exclaimed. “He’s blowing smoke. You’ve passed the probationary period. He can’t terminate you without cause. With your years in the system and your record, he’d have to document three or more offenses before he could remove you from the post. Even then, you’d have a right to a hearing.”

      Dani Hargreaves stepped forward. “Nikki heard you stand up for me, Ms. Grant. I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted. I thought you were the one trying to have me fired. I should’ve known it was Piggot. All he ever thinks about is dollars and cents. Never about staff workloads or client services.”

      “Yeah,”