***
The next morning Sarah slowly made her way down to breakfast. Team Purple had cleanup duty and she was milking her last hour of freedom.
"Jeseeka - did you 'ear about Selma?" asked Annette as Sarah queued up behind the other stragglers.
"No. What happened?"
"Dey have 'er in a woman's shelta. Amy tinks that will be betta fo her."
"Oh."
"Yeah. This one deals espeshaleeh with immigrant women. I guess dair idea is dat she will meet other women in da same sitchooeyshun - women like her - women from Pakistan...Mahslim women. Perhaps dey can convince her not to return to her usbund."
"I hope so."
Sarah filled her plate with eggs, hash browns and waffles - which reminded her of Julian's breakfast from the day before. This stirred up all the thoughts she'd had last night and she was back to thinking about Rachel.
Rachel will be here again on Thursday - that's two days from now. What will I say to her?
She made her way to the purple table and joined Ron who was already on his second helping.
"Worning sweepy head," he said, his mouth full of food.
"Ugh."
"What?"
"Don't bug me today. I'm not in the mood."
"Why? What's the matter?"
"Nothing. I don't want to talk about it. Can you pass me the juice please?"
They ate in silence, occasionally looking at each other, but otherwise not communicating. When breakfast was finished Ron went off to the rec room and Sarah dragged herself to the kitchen.
"Where do you want me today, Wynona?" she asked as she tied on her apron.
Wynona didn't answer - which was completely unlike her. Instead she looked at Sarah with big, sad eyes.
"You're to go and see Amy in her office," she said quietly. "She's waiting."
"Uh...okay. Is something wrong?"
"Just go and see Amy, please."
"Okay."
Sarah took off her apron and left the kitchen. She walked through the dining hall and turned into the corridor that lead to Amy's office. As she drew near, she heard voices - several of them. They were muffled and she couldn't make out what was being said. She advanced, and as she expected, discovered that the voices were coming from behind the office door. Sarah knocked sharply.
"Who is it?"
She could hear that loud and clear.
"It's Jessica."
There was a scraping of chairs and the door opened. Sarah's jaw dropped. His uniform crisp and clean, and his police badge proudly displayed on his belt, Mrs. Whittaker's son Charles ("Chuck") stood in the doorway, smiling down at her.
"Sarah."
"Mr. Whittaker."
Sarah stepped back. "What are you doing here?"
"Come in and we'll talk about that," he said firmly, but with his usual tenderness.
He moved to the side and Sarah dutifully stepped into the office.
"Hi Sarah."
"Amy..."
She was seated at the desk looking squarely at her. Beside the desk sat a grey-haired woman with a purple sweater.
"Sit down please, Sarah."
Sarah looked at Officer Whittaker.
"Go on," he said. "The sooner we get all this straightened out, the sooner we can all get to where we need to be."
Sarah sat down on the only empty chair.
"Now," said Amy. "Don't bother lying to us - about anything - as we know exactly who you are. We know all about you and Ron running away from the Smolinski's. We know all about your search for your dad."
Sarah swallowed to remove the knot in her throat.
"How?"
"We'll get to that. First, let me introduce you to Gail Gibson."
Sarah looked at the grey-haired woman beside her. She smiled and Sarah looked away.
"Gail is from Child Services," Amy continued.
Sarah's heart sank. "Not again..."
"Hi Sarah," said the woman, looking directly at her. "I promise that this time with us will be better. And we won't be sending you back to the Smolinski's - in fact we couldn't even if we wanted to - "
"Why not?" Sarah seethed sarcastically. "Are you sure you don't want to send us back there? I mean, they've got a hot tub, a sauna - "
"That's enough Sarah," said Officer Whittaker sharply. He stepped forwards. "We've got Hank and Gloria in custody right now."
"Really? Like - they're in jail?"
"Yes - but not for long. As you probably are aware, Hank and Gloria are members of the Redcoats. The Redcoats are a powerful organization and - despite being a biker gang - they have some big name lawyers. It'll only be a matter of days before we have to release them - unless you can provide us with the information we need.
"What sort of information?"
"The kind of information that will make the charges we've brought against them stick. Names, places, how the whole counterfeit money setup works - everything you can tell us."
"I guess...I mean...I'll try."
"That's all we ask."
"Okay...but I want something in exchange."
Officer Whittaker smiled at her moxie. "Like what?"
"I don't want to have to go to another foster home - Ron neither."
The police captain nodded his head. He could appreciate what she was asking for - but he couldn't give it to her.
"I'm sorry Sarah - but I can't make that guarantee."
"If I may, Officer," Gail interjected.
"Certainly."
"Sarah. It was never our intention to place you in a bad foster home - and let's call it what it is, eh? A terrible and despicable foster home. We would never have placed you and Ron with the Smolinski's had we known it would turn out this way!"
"But you still did - well not you - but Theresa - our social worker."
"And when I spoke to head office this morning, they assigned me to you and Ron - so I will be your social worker from now on - not Theresa - and I promise to never place you two in a foster home like that."
"How can you promise that? What if they pretend to be good foster parents like the Smolinski's did?"
Gail nodded grimly. "Theresa took a gamble on them - and it didn't pay off."
"I'll say," Sarah muttered.
Gail ignored her comment. "They were first-timers - we had no history with them, no way of knowing whether or not they'd be good parents. Theresa guessed they would be. In future we'll make sure to put you both - that's right - we'd like to keep you and Ron together - and we'll make sure to put you both into the loving home that you deserve."
"But I don't want to go to another foster home!"
Gail touched a hand to Sarah's arm. "Sarah, believe it nor not, we do care what happens to you."
Sarah pulled her arm away. "Then let me take care of us! Me and Ron are sick of foster homes!"
The social worker lowered her head, trying to figure out how to make Sarah understand.
"The law doesn't allow for that," said Oficer Whittaker. "Only when you're eighteen are you legally an adult."
"But that's like four years away - "
Gail smiled. "The time will fly by - and in that time we'll work on placing you two with foster parents that have a proven track record - no more first-timers like the Smolinski's."
Sarah sighed and shrunk into her chair. Part of her just wanted to run away - but she knew she couldn't.
Ron's leg is in a cast, I'm not old enough to drive, not old enough to quit school, not old enough to do anything but be a kid. A kid without a home. What I wouldn't give to have a home like Rachel...
"Fine," she said quietly.
"Fine what?" asked Gail.
"Fine, I'll go with you. Let me guess, we're going to a group home and we'll be there for six months until you find us a foster family."
Gail nodded. "I won't lie to you - that's pretty much it."
"Sarah," said Officer Whittaker gently, "you'll get a good home this time around - I promise. I'll even give you my card - here - take it - and if yo
u ever have problems with your new foster family - and I'm not talking about an argument over doing the dishes or cleaning your room," he said with a knowing smile, "but if they ever treat you like the Smolinski's did - you just have to give me a call and I'll be right over. Okay?"
Sarah admitted to herself that, collectively, their offer was pretty fair. Being placed with an experienced foster family. Her and Ron being kept together. Having Mr. Whittaker's cell number and being able to call him if she ever had a problem.
"Fine. But I'm not going back to Hutton House (the group home where she and Ron were at before they were fostered with the Smolinski's)".
Gail smiled. "I completely understand. After discussing your situation with Miss Bertolino and Officer Whittaker, I've decided that space will be made for you at Canterbury House - the group home where I am head coordinator. No more Theresa or Hutton House for you - okay?"
Sarah pursed her lips as she slowly came to grips with the fact that this was probably their best way out. With only a couple hundred dollars to her name - and nowhere to go - this was it.
"Alright. Just one more thing though...and this question is for Amy."
"Okay."
"How did you find out that I'm not Jessica Myers?"
Amy looked at her. "Well, first of all, you don't look even close to nineteen. I have seventeen year old nieces that look older than you."
Sarah didn't like the way she was being so up front.
I could pass for nineteen if I really wanted.
"Dr. Adamo would agree with me, she added. "She commented on how, during your session together, you had said a few things that made her sure that you were not nineteen - that you were in fact - probably much younger. So the age thing was a big part of it and you had me suspicious from day one I'm afraid to say."
Sarah frowned and Amy continued.
"When I received this fax from Child Services," she said, holding up a printout with her and Ron's faces on it, (Sarah could make out the word "MISSING", which ran along the top, in bold letters) it all fit together. Unfortunately, I only got this today as it was a holiday and I was out of the office Sunday and Monday."
Officer Whittaker coughed. "And as for myself, Sarah, you can probably guess who told me."
"Mrs. Whittaker?"
He nodded. "Yep. After she reported you missing to Child Services. They made up the missing flyer and carpet bombed the GTA with it. When that same fax came across my desk at the station - I knew I had to find you. The streets in this city are no place for a fourteen year old and an eight year old. I put out a call to numerous places around the GTA to let me know if you and Ron were found. Miss Bertolino contacted Child Services this morning to let them know that you were here and Child Services contacted me. So there you have it. We found you safe and sound - and I'm thankful for that because not every case like this has a happy ending."
Was this a happy ending? It sure didn't feel like it. It felt like they were back where they had started, back at square one.
"So Sarah."
It was Gail speaking.
"Yeah?"
"How about you go and pack up your things...and is Ron still in the dining hall?"
"Yeah."
The social worker nodded. "Good. Officer Whittaker and I are going to go and see him then while you go and get packed. Does Ron have things that need to be packed as well?"
"Yeah...but I can get them."
"That would be very helpful. If you could just bring all your things down to the dining hall - and we'll take everything from there. Alright?"
Sarah nodded. It's really happening. We're going back to a group home.
"Go and say bye to whoever you want," added Amy. "I'm sure Annette will want a goodbye. And Wynona."
Sarah wasn't in the mood to really hear anything more from Amy - she was the reason this whole thing had fallen apart - even though, as much as she hated to admit it - it was bound to have happened eventually.
"Yeah...whatever."
Officer Whittaker put a hand on her shoulder. "This is the best thing for you, Sarah. I know it's not perfect - but we'll make it work better this time. Alright?"
"Alright."
"Good. Now go and get packed up and we'll meet you back in the dining hall in five minutes. Okay?"
"Okay."
"And wait - before you go - I'm coming by Canterbury House tomorrow around ten. Mrs. Gibson has agreed to have you both ready and waiting. I want to take you and Ron down to the station to get your statements, okay? It's very important if we want to keep the Smolinski's in jail leading up to their trial. If we don't, they'll be gone for Mexico or South America in a flash."
Sarah nodded. "Okay."
"Good."
"Can I go pack now?"
"Yes, of course," said Gail, standing up and pushing her chair to the side so that Sarah had a clear exit. "Officer Whittaker and I will be waiting with Ron."
"Alright. I'll be a few minutes."
"Take your time."
Sarah left the office and made her way upstairs. Selma's room was vacant, and it felt strange not hearing Amir crying or babbling on the other side of the door. She made her way to the end of the purple corridor and entered their bedroom. She smiled as she looked around.
You did good Sarah. Too bad it couldn't have lasted longer.
Sarah packed her bag and Ron's backpack, took one last look at the room, and headed back downstairs.
In the middle of the dining hall Annette was busy wiping tables. She looked up when she saw Sarah.
"I 'erd dat you are leaving us, Jesseeka."
"It's Sarah - and yeah - we're going back to Child Services."
Annette smiled and frowned at the same time. "Kom - give me a hug. It no matta wat yo name is - all that matta is wat is in yo hart."
Sarah thought it would be awkward hugging Annette, but after several seconds in her loving embrace she felt uplifted. The middle-aged, Jamaican woman released her and looked into her eyes.
"You take good care of yoself. Y'ear? I no wanna hear from Amy that you be causin trouble at yo new 'ome. Okay? You be good. Go to school. Study hawd. You 'av da world at your fingaz, young one."
Annette pinched her cheek. "And kom bak an visit - I be here for two mo muns."
Sarah smiled. "I will. Thank you."
"Good. Now go an see Wynona - she want to see you. She be very sad bout dis seechooayshun. Go an make her smile - I no wanna wok weeth her if she be sad all da day."
Sarah laughed. "Okay, okay, I'm going."
They shared one last hug and she left Annette to go to the kitchen. Over at the purple table she could see Mr. Whittaker and Gail sitting with Ron. He saw her and Sarah waved to let him know that it was alright - that she knew what was going on.
Would it be alright though?
Wynona was at the counter, wrapping a tray of waffles to put in the freezer.
"Wynona..."
The plump kitchen supervisor turned around.
"Jess - I mean...Sarah. It is Sarah right?"
"Yeah."
"What a nice name...that was my sister's name...so you're leaving us, eh?"
Sarah looked at the ground. "Yeah."
"Well...," said Wynona, wiping her hands on her apron. "We'll miss you...you and Rachel sure caused me some grief I tell ya...but I'll miss you all the same. Do I get a hug?"
"Of course Wynona."
The two embraced. Wynona's apron smelled to Sarah like blueberry waffles and maple syrup.
"I'll come back and visit sometime," said Sarah when Wynona had finally let go.
"You do that...don't be a stranger...it was great having you - even though it was only for such a short while...and you were a big help too...when you bothered to show up."
Sarah smiled.
"And when you and Rachel weren't busy gabbing about some boy or singing some Brittany Shears or Purple Sunglasses song."
Her face split into a wide grin and Sarah blushed.
"Thanks for everything, Wynona.
"
"You're welcome, dear."
"I'll come back and visit - I promise."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Bye Wynona.
"Good bye Sarah."
Sarah felt funny as she made her way out of the kitchen. All this love was being showered on her - from the most unlikely places - and it felt as genuine as the love she'd gotten from her mother when she was still alive.
Maybe having a mom and a dad isn't the only way to be loved. Maybe friends and people you meet can give you just as much.
"Ready to go?" asked Gail as she neared the purple table.
"Yeah."
Ron was playing his video game. It seemed to Sarah that he'd begun doing that whenever he felt uncomfortable - which had been a lot lately.
"Ron?"
He paused his game and looked up.
"Yeah?"
"Did Gail and Mr. Whittaker explain to you what's happening?"
"Sort of..."
Sarah nodded. "So you know we're leaving Anthony's, right?"
He nodded and looked away.
"I know it doesn't feel good - all this running around and going different places - but I realized that I'm not mature enough yet to be responsible for you. You're my kid brother - and I love you - and I want what's best for you. It's better that we go to the group home with Gail than stay here."
Ron was looking at her again and he managed a small smile.
"Yeah."
Sarah smiled back.
"It'll be good Ron - you'll see," said Officer Whittaker. "I've given Sarah my phone number - so she can call me anytime if there's a problem. Alright?"
Ron nodded slowly.
"And Gail here is going to make sure that you guys get a good family this time around - here, take your bag."
Ron took his bag and Officer Whittaker led the way to the front exit.
"So?"
"So what?" asked Ron, looking up at the tall and strapping police constable.
"Can you be a brave boy and manage being at the group home for a little while?"
"Yeah..."
"Good, that's what I like to hear. Now, let's get your things packed into Gail's car then and get a move on. I'll be seeing you tomorrow, you know? You're going to be giving me your statement about Hank and Gloria."
Ron looked startled. "Really? Like all the bad stuff they do?"
"Yup."
"And what will happen to them?" he asked as they all made their way to the exit doors.
"We'll just have to wait and see. We're hoping to put them away for a long time - but we have to see what kind of evidence we get."
"I'll tell you everything I know."
Officer Whittaker chuckled. "That's my man."
- 14 -
CANTERBURY HOUSE
Canterbury House was much like Hutton House except that the walls were a brighter shade of green and there were a few less children. It didn't take long for Ron and Sarah to adjust to their new surroundings and by supper that evening it felt as though they'd been there for weeks. Old pros at living in group homes, Ron and Sarah knew which kids to make friends with, which kids to ignore, and more importantly, which kids to avoid.
Of the nine other kids at Canterbury House, Sarah trusted all but one. There was Chandra and Cassandra - two identical twins who were forced into foster care when their mother was arrested for dealing drugs. Dawn had Down's Syndrome; she had latched on to Sarah the minute they'd been introduced and hadn't let go since. Nathan was Ron's age and both shared the same interests: food and video games.
Crystal was the girl Sarah didn't trust. She was sixteen, had done time in juvie, and routinely picked on the other kids. It was fairly apparent that Gail kept a close eye on her, but she couldn't watch Crystal twenty-four seven, and Sarah told herself she'd have to keep her guard up.
In addition to the eleven kids at Canterbury House (including Ron and Sarah), there were four adults who worked in rotating shifts of three - with each group working eight hours. Angie worked the night shift and Sarah liked her immediately. Petite yet vocal, Ron gave her the nickname "firecracker", and she could build you up and make you feel like a million bucks - or she could break you down - depending on your attitude and how you treated others at Canterbury House.
"Sarah, could you pass me Dawn's slippers please?" Angie asked as she held a gleeful and giggling Dawn. Dawn was feeling particularly mischievous that night and had kicked her slippers off for the third time in as many minutes.
"No problem," said Sarah, stepping away from the bathroom mirror and scooping them off the floor. She handed them to Angie.
"Thank you, Sarah."
She turned to Dawn. "Now, let's see if we can't get you to bed, eh? And I'm keeping your slippers, missy - you can have them back tomorrow."
Sarah watched until they turned into Dawn's bedroom then stepped back towards the mirror and resumed brushing her teeth. The girls all shared a bathroom upstairs - and slept upstairs - while the boys all shared a bathroom and slept downstairs. She wondered how Ron was getting on.
"Can I borrow some toothpaste?" came a voice from beside her.
Sarah turned and saw Crystal looking at her.
"Yeah, sure," said Sarah.
Each kid was given their own toothpaste - so she found it odd that Crystal would need to use hers - but she didn't want to say no and risk getting into conflict with Canterbury's oldest girl (and bully) on her first night.
She tossed the toothpaste at Crystal who caught it.
Resuming her teeth brushing once more, she kept one eye on Crystal who stood looking in the mirror two sinks away. Crystal began humming to herself as she picked at something on her face. A second later she turned and strode out of the bathroom with the toothpaste, passing behind Sarah without a word. Sarah was about to call out, to tell her to give her back her toothpaste - but she decided against it.
Crystal was obviously testing her. Seeing if she could get a rise out of her. She wasn't going to give Crystal the satisfaction. She would just get a new toothpaste from Angie tomorrow night.
Sarah finished brushing, rinsed her mouth, and headed to bed. She wanted to say good night to Ron one last time and make sure he wasn't being bullied and that he was having a good time, but girls weren't allowed on the boys' floor after nine o'clock.
Sharing her room was a girl nicknamed Little Sue. She was only seven - just a year younger than Ron - but she wasn't much bigger than a four year old as years of malnourishment and neglect had stunted her growth.
In addition, her years of neglect meant that she rarely spoke and when she did, it was in simple, one or two word phrases. Incredibly, she seemed to have no trouble speaking at all when she whispered her prayers.
Sarah watched Little Sue, her head bowed and kneeling beside the bed, whisper a prayer. When she was finished, she climbed into her small four-poster and Sarah didn't hear a peep thereafter.
Sarah lay back, took a deep, relaxing breath, and closed her eyes. She wanted to clear her mind of the debris left by the whirlwind of the past week. It was hard to believe that it had only been a week since they'd escaped from the Smolinski's. She wondered how long they'd be here. Six months? A year? If only she was turning eighteen this year. She opened the locket on her necklace and looked at her mother.
I wish you were still alive. Can you see me?
June's blue eyes had a calming effect on her and Sarah felt safe whenever she looked into them. She closed the locket and put her necklace back on. Her thoughts drifted to Hank and Gloria. She pictured them in jail, wearing orange prison uniforms, whining about the food, and complaining about their accommodations. With that happy thought in mind, Sarah smiled and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
- 15 -
OFFICER WHITTAKER
The next morning, at precisely ten a.m., Officer Charles Whittaker arrived to take Ron and Sarah to the police station. He had a busy day ahead of him - including a meeting with Hank and Gloria's lawyer - and he had asked Gail t
o have Ron and Sarah ready at ten o'clock sharp.
"You kids all ready to go?" he asked when Sarah opened the front door of Canterbury House.
"Yup."
Ron appeared in the doorway with one shoe still untied.
"Yes, sir!"
"Good morning, Officer Whittaker.
Gail had appeared behind them and she opened the door all the way, admitting a cold, Fall breeze.
"Oh. It's chilly out this morning."
Officer Whittaker nodded, resting his hands on his hips and glancing up at the sky.
"Yup. Heck, it might even snow."
"I sure hope not."
"Me neither," Sarah grumbled.
"So you'll have these two back by this afternoon?" asked Gail, resting her shoulder against the doorframe.
"Yes, ma'am. Two o'clock at the latest. That alright?"
Gail smiled. "That's just fine."
"Excellent."
The police constable turned to Ron and Sarah.
"You two are going to be our star witnesses."
"What's a star witness?" asked Ron as they headed down the walkway to Officer Whittaker's police cruiser.
"Bye, Gail!"
"Bye, guys!"
"It's like a really important witness," explained Sarah.
"Oh."
They piled into the vehicle and Officer Whittaker drove towards downtown.
"Oh - I meant to mention yesterday - that I've been in touch with Mr. Thorrington from Le Luxembourg hotel."
He glanced at Sarah to gauge her reaction. As he'd suspected, she looked guilty.
"Um...what did he say?"
"Well, I explained the situation to him - your situation. And he's agreed to drop the charges against you. Are you aware of what you did?"
"Was the money that I gave them counterfeit?" asked Sarah nervously.
Officer Whittaker nodded. "Indeed. But, I'm very happy you did that."
"What? Why? Isn't it wrong to use counterfeit money?"
"Oh, it is wrong - it's illegal," he grinned. "Completely. However, we took the counterfeit money you tried to use at Le Luxembourg and were using it as evidence in our case against the Smolinski's."
"Wow."
"Yup. It's perfect. Had we not been able to get that, I don't know that we would have gotten any. The Redcoats know that Hank and Gloria have been arrested and whatever evidence is at their house or wherever will soon be destroyed. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if their whole house was burned down tonight. We've got a couple cruisers there pulling double duty keeping an eye on the place, but we can't keep them there full time.
That being said, we've got the evidence that we need in terms of tangibles. When we add that to your and Ron's statements we should be able to convince the judge to deny them bail. Because if they get out - we'll never see them again. They'll either flee the country or some Redcoats hit man we'll take them out."
"It's like a movie," said Ron from the backseat.
"It is, isn't it?" asked Officer Whittaker rhetorically as he turned onto the expressway. "Let's just hope we get our happy ending."
A half an hour later they arrived at the Durham County police station.
"Here we are," said Officer Whittaker once they'd pulled into the parking lot.
Ron pressed his face against the window. "Whoa! Look at all the police cars!"
Officer Whittaker smiled at his enthusiasm. "Know what, big guy?"
"What?"
"After we're all done getting your statements, I'll get Greg to show you his highway patrol motorbike. Would you like that?"
Ron gaped, his eyes bulging.
"I think that's a yes, Mr. Whittaker," said Sarah when she saw her brother's face.
The police captain nodded approvingly. "Good. I know you'll like it Ron - and we'll get a picture of you sitting on the bike."
They exited the cruiser and made their way inside. Officer Whittaker explained that they'd be using the interview room. They took the elevator to the fourth floor. When they got off the elevator, Sarah was surprised to see that the office didn't look anything like in the movies. It wasn't a bullpen. There weren't a bunch of bad guys handcuffed to railings or sitting in chairs beside cops' desks. There wasn't a burly lieutenant in a white shirt and suspenders strutting around slapping files onto desks and barking orders.
It was rather...boring. A simple maze of grey, high-walled cubicles. Clean, spartan, and strangely quiet.
Officer Whittaker led them to "Interview Room #2" (Sarah could see a rather distraught woman with a tear-stained face screeching at a man in "Interview Room #1".
"Come on in you two and have a seat. Make yourselves at home. What kind of pop you guys like?"
"Iced tea."
"Grape."
"Okay, let me go and grab those. You can hang your jackets on that rack there, okay? And anything else you need - just let me know okay? Don't be shy."
Ron and Sarah nodded.
"Great, I'll be back in a minute."
Officer Whittaker left the room and Sarah hung their jackets on the coat rack. A few seconds later there was a knock at the door and a young constable - who Sarah thought was rather cute - poked his head inside.
"I'm just testing the recorder," he said.
He stepped into the interview room and shut the door.
"Testing, testing. One, two, three."
There was a knock on the one-way window and Sarah jumped.
The constable grinned. "Don't worry. That's just Officer Jenkins letting me know that the recorder is working properly. The whole room is wired for video and audio - so don't go picking your nose or doing anything embarrassing."
She could tell by his smile that he was joking about the nose picking, but Sarah suddenly felt very self-conscious.
"Officer Whittaker should be back in a sec - oh here he is now."
The young constable stepped aside as Officer Whittaker returned with their sodas and a cup of coffee for himself. He set the beverages down in the middle of the table.
"Alright, Constable Ryan. If you can let us get back to it. The recorder is working?"
"Yes, Staff Sergeant."
"Great. Thank you. Tell Officer Jenkins to start recording now."
"I will."
Sarah watched as her cute constable left the room. She was sorry that he wasn't the one interviewing them - although that probably wouldn't work too well since she'd probably be blushing the whole time and stuttering with her answers.
Ron and Sarah waited patiently while Officer Whittaker sipped his coffee and arranged some papers on the table they were seated around.
"Okay...so. I'm going to begin the interview now. Please state your names for the record. Sarah, you first. Ron, you'll go second. Try to speak as loudly and as clearly as you can."
They nodded.
"Sarah Litchmore."
"Ron McComb."
"Great. First question. How do you know Hank and Gloria Smolinski?"
"They fostered us."
"So you lived with them?"
"Yes. Since last May."
"And how would you describe your time there? Was it a positive experience? A negative experience?"
"Definitely a negative experience."
Sarah glanced at Ron. He was sipping his soda and licking his lips.
"They would beat us."
Officer Whittaker seemed to bristle at this revelation.
"Really? Often?"
"At least once a week."
His eyes narrowed. "Why would they beat you?"
"It was Hank mostly. Sometimes he was just mad. Other times he was mad if I made a mistake on the delivery or whatever."
"What do you mean by delivery?"
"They used Ron and I to deliver counterfeit money to their associates."
"Who? Hank and Gloria Smolinski?"
"Yes."
"Can you state their names for the record, please Sarah?"
"Hank and Gloria Smolinski."
"Okay. And so the
y made you deliver counterfeit money?"
"Yes."
"Do you know if Hank made the counterfeit money - or did he just deal it?"
"He made it."
"How? Where?"
"At his office. He rents a small office beside the Tabby Cat Lounge."
"Is that here in Pickering?"
"Yes."
"And what goes on at the Tabby Cat Lounge?"
"The Tabby Cat Lounge is where most of the Redcoats hang out."
She could tell by Officer Whittaker's expression that he'd already known this.
"Hank has an office at the Tabby Cat Lounge. In the basement."
Officer Whittaker looked at her and made a note in his notepad while Sarah sipped her soda and waited for the next question.
"So Hank has an office in the basement of the Tabby Cat Lounge - and that's where he makes the counterfeit money?"
"Yes."
"How do you know that he makes the money there?"
"Well Ron's been inside - I never have, but - "
"Okay, let Ron speak," said the police constable, raising his hand. "Ron, does Hank make counterfeit money in that office?"
"Yes. He has a gazillion big printers in there and all sorts of computers. There are always three or four guys there too."
Officer Whittaker made a few notes on his legal pad.
"Okay. So Hank makes the money there. Then what?"
"Then he sends some to a guy named Alfred in Montreal," Sarah interjected. "The rest he takes home."
"Okay...Alfred in Montreal..." he said, scribbling down Sarah's answer. "Now, the money that Hank takes home - what does he do with it?"
"He puts it in a big safe," said Ron.
"A big safe, eh?"
"Yeah...like as tall as a person."
Officer Whittaker looked impressed. "Wow, that is big...where is this safe exactly? In the house."
"It's behind a painting of Napoleon in the basement."
"Wow. I'd better put someone on that right away. Officer Jenkins?"
A voice replied over the speaker. "Yes?"
"Please add this item to the search warrant."
"Will do, Staff Sergeant."
"Thank you."
The police captain nodded and focused his attention on Ron and Sarah once again. "Okay and so...the money goes in the safe...and then?"
"And then he uses either me or Ron to deliver it," Sarah answered. "Ron does the deliveries in Pickering and I do all the deliveries outside Pickering."
"By yourselves!?"
"Well, Hank drove Ron to his delivery spots. Me, I would go by myself, yes."
Sarah glanced at Officer Whittaker. He looked like he might explode. The police constable took a deep breath and exhaled. "If I wasn't an officer of the law..."
He looked at Ron and Sarah. "The things those two put you through," he clenched his fists, "we're gonna nail 'em."
There was a knock on the one-way window.
"Yeah, yeah," said Officer Whittaker with a wave of his hand. "We'll have to erase those comments," he said, looking at Sarah.
He sat back, loosened his tie and took a sip from his mug. After a minute he was ready to continue.
"Alright. So. Hank made you two deliver the counterfeit money. Where did you deliver it?"
Ron and Sarah each rattled off a dozen places and when they were done, the police constable was grinning from ear to ear.
"Kids, with this information, the defense isn't going to have a leg to stand on. The Smolinski's - and the Redcoats - are going down."
There was another knock on the window.
"Right, I got it."
He looked at Sarah whose face wore a quizzical expression. "We're not allowed to inject personal opinion as it suggests that we're leading you - as the witness."
Sarah nodded. "I get it."
Officer Whittaker drained what was left in his mug and closed the file folder that was open on the table in front of him. "You both did very well. Let's call it there for the day - the Prosecutor will probably want to speak with you two sometime in the next couple of months. So heads up for that. I'll let Gail know and I'll pick you guys up when it's time to do that."
"When's the trial?" asked Sarah.
"The trial probably won't start until at least March - and that's if we're lucky. Ideally March though - and then sentencing by April. It depends how much of a fight the Smolinski's legal team puts up."
"I see."
"Anyways, you two should be proud of yourselves."
"Thanks."
"No, thank you. Without your cooperation, we wouldn't be able to put these guys away."
Officer Whittaker wiped his moustache and stood up. "Well, I've got a meeting in two hours with their sleaze ball lawyer so I'd better get you back to Canterbury. First things first though," he said with a glance towards Ron, "I believe I promised you a motorbike show."