Heal (Save The Kids Book 3) Read online

  What the hell had been done to her to make her so scared of women? Beau smiled. "Bobby will take good care of you, and I'll let everyone know that you only wish to talk to men, okay?"

  "Thanks." Lisa swallowed hard. "Can I have water?"

  Bobby glanced at Beau and when he gave a nod, the nurse stepped closer. "Why don't we get you to a comfortable place first, then I'll get you some water or juice. We might even be able to find some ice cream unless Dr. Maddington stole it all."

  Beau laughed. "I only had one cup. There were plenty more in the freezer. Bobby will look and see what is available. Try not to worry about your brother and the others. I'm going to go check on them now and I'll be in to talk to you as soon as I know anything."

  Lisa nodded.

  Beau forced himself to turn and head out of the room. She was in good hands with Bobby. As much as he wanted to stay and comfort her, there were three other children to worry about. As he rushed to take the next patient, he forced thoughts of Lisa from his mind. He'd check on her later, and hopefully, have good news about her brother.

  As he walked into the next exam room to see a young boy crying, he wondered if this was all worth it. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't separate himself from the pain the children felt, and it was starting to get to him. Something needed to change, but he wasn't sure just what.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Beau pulled into the driveway of the STK team house and shut off his car. He stared at the home for a moment, watching shadows move behind the curtains, letting him know that several team members were there. It was nearly ten at night, but it wasn't uncommon for the team to work around the clock. Most of the stings they performed took place after dark, and the members who weren't out actually hunting pedophiles would be working the computers, making sure everything was secure and gathering information.

  With a sigh, he grabbed the files he'd made for each child he'd treated for abuse that night and headed inside. To anyone watching, it looked he was visiting a friend. No one was aware that inside the small home, tucked in a friendly neighborhood, there was a team of hunters that worked on bringing justice to the world.

  The home looked like every other in the area. Even inside, no one would guess that this was the team's headquarters. It was only if they ventured into the back rooms where the computers were set up, or upstairs to where Beau had a full surgical suite built, that anyone would know this wasn't a typical home.

  Bryon, the team leader, lived in the house full time, but he was seldom alone. There was always someone working on the computers, digging for information, or setting up surveillance for a sting.

  "You look like shit." Bryon glanced over at Beau as he walked into the house.

  Beau rolled his eyes. "It's been a long day." He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of garlic. "What are you making me?"

  "You assume I'm feeding you?" Bryon grinned from where he was in front of the stove.

  "You knew I was coming. You wouldn't eat in front of me. It's not your way." Beau sat down at the kitchen table.

  "You're right, it's not. I figured you would be hungry. It's just some fried eggs and hash. Nothing fancy." Bryon scooped some on a plate and set it down in front of Beau. "Beer?"

  "Please." Beau arched his head back, letting out a long sigh.

  "Bad one?" Bryon sat down across from him as he set the beer on the table.

  "Horrible. Just when you think you've seen it all." Beau handed the files he held over to Bryon. They were filled with copies of test results and doctors' notes from the exams each child had. It was all Beau could get for Bryon, but he was sure with the team's hacking skills, Bryon would have more information on the foster family and children before the day was over. "It's not pretty." Beau reached for his fork, not really hungry, but needing to eat something.

  He watched Bryon's face as he read through the medical reports, hating that he had to share the details of the cases with anyone. The stuff in the files was enough to haunt someone. Even though the team had seen some horrific things in the past, there was no telling what was going to affect you. For Beau, it had been the bite marks, and scars from old bites on the teenage girl that would give him nightmares for weeks to come.

  Bryon glanced over at him. "Will they heal?"

  "Physically, yes." Beau didn't need to stress that mentally this would probably stay with the kids the rest of their lives. "If he's lucky, the three-year-old won't remember anything, but trauma like that tends to stick with you."

  "Foster parents are in custody?"

  Beau nodded, remembering what the police had told him in passing. "Arrested them before bringing the kids in. The guy's sister showed up and found the ten-year-old boy with blood dripping down his leg. When she saw the damage to his rectum, she called the police. She didn't even know about the two girls living there. She'd only seen the boys when she'd drop by."

  "Any idea how long this has been going on?" Bryon closed the folder.

  "No, but the oldest girl and her brother have been there for two years. My guess is it started as soon as they arrived. The girl has scarring that has healed along with fresh bite marks. I've never seen so many bites in my life, let alone to the areas she had them." Beau set his fork down. "It's not in the report yet because the tests came in right as I was leaving, but the sixteen-year-old girl is pregnant. I'm not sure she even knows. She isn't showing yet."

  "Fuck." Bryon reached for his beer.

  "Yeah, I get to break the news to her tomorrow when the counselor is with us." Beau dreaded having to tell the young girl.

  "I don't envy you your job, Beau." Bryon shook his head. "The other girl?"

  "She had a couple bite marks on her thighs and some vaginal and anal bruising, but she's in the best shape of all of them. She was the most recent to arrive at the foster home, so maybe they'd just started in on her. I don't know. The other boy is three. He's got some major bruising, and scars, but will heal."

  "The other boy, the one that was bleeding?" Bryon asked.

  "Rectal tears, bite marks, broken ribs. He was the only one showing signs of being beaten. They were all sexually abused, but the ten-year-old was their punching bag it seems." Beau leaned back, leaving the food untouched. "His sister, Lisa, is the pregnant one. Her only worry was about her brother. She didn't care about her own injuries, just that we took care of him. She was so restless, that I finally had to put them in a room together for the night. She wouldn't calm down until she was with him."

  "You okay?" Bryon stared at him, worry etching his brows.

  "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll focus on the medical side of things, push the rest aside until I'm sure they are okay, then take a few days off to absorb it all."

  "You know we have resources—"

  "I know. I don't need a shrink. I just need time. You know me. I'll be fine. Tonight was just hard with four coming in at once. It takes a little more out of you. What was hardest was the teen wouldn't let any females around her. She insisted I examine her. She wouldn't even let a woman do a blood draw. The woman they arrested must have obsessed over this girl."

  "I wish we could have gotten hold of her before the cops did." Bryon tapped the folder with his finger. "I'll have Noam see what he can find out from his connections at the police station, and I'll have Matt pull all records on the foster parents. This sounds as if it's been going on for years. If so, I want to know why it wasn't caught or reported before this."

  "Any doctor could have seen the abuse. I know foster kids are supposed to be seen yearly for physicals, but it's clear these four weren't. If they were, the doctor needs to be looked at, because there was no hiding the abuse. Even if they healed before going in, there is so much obvious scarring, like bite marks and scratches, that they would have known." Beau stretched his legs out. "Look into everyone connected to this case."

  "CPS will be doing interviews, right?" Bryon asked.

  Beau nodded. "As soon as I give the okay, but I won't for a few days. I have a caseworker from the hospital scheduled to visit the kids tomorrow. At least I know she'll do what is right for them and not just try to close the case and find them new homes." Beau shook his head. "CPS will fight to rush things."

  "We can't count on CPS to handle this. It's their fault this wasn't caught sooner."

  Beau agreed. He had yet to see CPS handle a child abuse case correctly. Sure, they followed through on the prosecution, but no changes were ever made to make sure this didn't happen again. He didn't even trust the courts anymore. More often than not, the pedophiles would serve a few years and be out on the streets, looking for new victims.

  "I'll have Becca pull up court records and keep us posted on the case." Bryon pulled out his phone and started to type out a text message.

  Beau didn't say anything as Bryon sent a text to his girlfriend. Becca worked at the courthouse and was their inside source for everything that went on through arrest to the end of the trial. She was also able to alert them to cases they weren't aware of, so they could add the name of the pedophiles to their watch list.

  When he was done, Bryon set his phone on the table. "This is the fourth case we've had in the last month where the foster parents were raping the children living with them. I know this is nothing new, but it seems to be increasing."

  Beau thought about the cases he'd seen over the last few months. Being the only pediatric hospital in the area, almost all child abuse cases came to his attention at some point. There did seem to be a slight increase in children sexually assaulted while in foster care. "It is. And it's not just one here and there, it's groups of children from the same homes. The pedophiles don't even try to hide it anymore. We never used to see the abuse we do now, the bites, scratches, bruising."

  "And these are only the ones we know about. Statistics say that
we only see maybe two percent of the abuse that goes on. That means there are a lot of kids out there suffering that we aren't even aware of." Bryon reached for his phone. "I'm going to have Matt pull the number of child deaths over the last year, especially those in the foster care system. My gut tells me those numbers will be higher as well."

  "Tell me again why we do this?" Beau stood, grabbing his plate, and taking it over to the garbage to scrape the food off before setting it in the sink.

  "Because we make a difference. I know at times like this it doesn't seem like it, especially with the shitload of cases we've had the last few months, but think how much worse it would be if we didn't do what we do," Bryon told him.

  "We stop one and three more show up. The world is filled with sick fucks." Beau leaned against the counter.

  "You look tired, Beau. Maybe you need a vacation? You haven't taken any time off in over a year." Bryon stared at him. "You can't do what we do and not need some time to decompress."

  "I'm just a doctor. I'd be seeing this stuff even if I wasn't part of this team."

  "Maybe, but you pay attention to it more, you hear about other cases, you know the extent of the problem better than you would if you weren't working with us. Think about taking a week or two off. Find yourself a nice beach and lay in the sun for hours. You're not going to do anyone any good if you're tired and burned out." Bryon stood, taking his own plate to the sink.

  That was the problem. Being the only doctor on the team, he needed to be around all the time. He didn't want to think about what would happen if someone got injured and he wasn't there to save them. Going to the hospital wasn't an option if a team member got hurt. Not with what they did. It would bring too much attention to the team and risk everything they worked for. "I'll think about it. Maybe around Christmas."

  "Maybe before." Bryon raised a brow. "Christmas is still two months away. How about Thanksgiving even?"

  "No can do. Dear old Dad has summoned me to dinner. He claims there is family business to take care of." Beau didn't hide the sarcasm from his voice. As much as he loved his parents, spending time with them was not his favorite pastime. He called his mother weekly, but his interaction with his father was much less.

  "Everything okay?" Bryon knew all about Beau's family and why he tried to separate himself from them as much as he could.

  "I assume they'd tell me if it wasn't and not wait for Thanksgiving dinner. God knows what the old man has up his sleeve. It's probably another ploy to try and get me to give up medicine and come take over the family business." Beau's grip on the counter tightened at just the thought of having to sit behind a desk all day. He had no desire to work for his father or take over the company. Maddington Textiles might be one of the largest companies in the world, but that didn't mean Beau wanted to run the damn place.

  "Well, you know you're always welcome here for Thanksgiving should you decide to skip out on their invitation." Bryon pulled another beer from the fridge. "Want one?"

  "Nah, thanks anyway, but I want to get home. I'm beat." Beau pushed away from the counter. "I'll give you a call tomorrow if I find out anything more, but I'm guessing the police will try to keep this as quiet as they can. No one wants the public to know there are problems in a government-run agency." Beau pulled his keys out of his pocket.

  "You're probably right. I'll text you with anything we find out. You just do your job and make those kids well again," Bryon told him.

  Beau gave a nod and a wave as he headed out the door, wishing he could heal the kids he'd treated tonight, but the truth was, healing from what they'd gone through was going to take a hell of a lot more than he could give. If they ever healed, it would take a lot of time and therapy. It was more than physical injuries that needed treating, and for once, he was glad he only had to treat the physical ones, because he had no idea how to even begin to heal a child mentally from what they'd faced. He wasn't even sure it was possible.

  As he pulled out of the driveway and headed home, he thought about his day and all he'd seen. He made a difference, he was sure he did, but nights like this, it just didn't seem to be enough.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Parson fought back a wave of nausea as he stared at the police report that was on his desk. He'd read through it three times, each time feeling sicker than he had before. How could people do things like that to a child? He wasn't stupid enough to think it didn't happen, but to have proof of it sitting on his desk was a reality he really could have done without.

  He sat back, swiping his fingers through his thick red hair as he tried to digest what he'd just read. Four kids, all from the same foster home, all abused, and now being treated for injuries in the hospital. He didn't even want to think about the injuries. Thankfully, the police report didn't go into much detail, but it was enough for him to know that it was bad, very bad.

  What was he supposed to say to the kids? How was he supposed to find them a new home, a safe home, one that he could promise wouldn't hurt them again? Maybe he hadn't been on the job long enough to be as hardened as some of his co-workers, but honestly, he didn't want to ever harden to things like this. This kind of abuse should have an effect on him. It should bother him. The day it didn't was the day he would quit his job and give his life a good look.

  It was because of cases like this that he'd decided to work for Child Protective Services. He wanted to change things, make it better for the kids they helped.

  He'd seen what could happen to kids abused in foster care. His best friend growing up had committed suicide after being abused in a foster home. She'd chosen to take her own life because there had been no one she could trust in her life to help her.

  He'd been too young to see the signs. He knew she was upset, knew about the rape. He'd tried to talk to her, but being a fourteen-year-old teenager, struggling with his own sexuality, he had no clue how to help her. Now, he wished he'd at least tried. Her death had changed him, made him acknowledge the evil in the world and hope to somehow change it.

  By taking a job with CPS, he hoped to make sure that the things that had happened to Beth didn't happen to other children, but now, he stared down at the file on his desk at four more kids being hurt by people they should have been able to trust.

  His temper flared, wishing he could get his hands on the foster parents who had done this. The first thing he'd feared was that this had been a family he'd interviewed, but it had been another caseworker who had placed the children in the home and had supposedly followed up with them.

  How could a trained caseworker miss this kind of abuse going on? Had it just started? He had so many questions, but the police report didn't fill in the holes. It only stated what the police had found when they'd arrived. He needed more information.

  He wasn't going to be able to talk to the children right away. It really wasn't his place to contact the children. Counselors would do that. It still didn't stop him from wanting to know more, and to make sure that the kids were going to be okay.

  When the time came to put them back into foster care, it would be his job to make sure the family they went to would take care of them. No matter what it took, he would find these kids a good home. He wouldn't fail them. They'd been through enough.

  From reading the police report, it was clear the kids would probably be in the hospital a few days, if not longer, but he needed to know exactly how bad things were. He couldn't plan without knowing that the kids might need, or how long before he would need to find them new homes.

  More than anything, he hoped he could find a home to take both the brother and sister. It was rare that they could keep siblings together, but they tried when it was possible. In this case, he was sure that it would do more harm than good to split them up now.

  He'd placed a call to the hospital, but they had refused to release any information other than the kids were stable. He'd been referred to the doctor handling the case, but had yet to call him. His gut told him he wouldn't get much help from the doctor, but he had to try.

  Parson tapped the number in on his office phone and waited, not shocked when it went to voicemail. He didn't know a doctor who ever answered on the first call. His caller ID would have come up CPS, and that would probably deter the doctor from answering in the first place.