she saw that it was the young girl who lived in the basement. The one with the dark curls and the hair lip. The one who couldn’t be more than fourteen years old.
Fury dripped through her, making her feel nauseous but what could she do? I’m trying to help you, I swear, she said silently to the unconscious girl. I can’t now, but I will.
“Dreschel,” someone’s voice greeted the man in passing, but out of her line of vision, both of their footsteps—thank God—moving in the other direction. Dreschel. I’ll remember your name. I won’t forget.
When the footsteps had faded, Kandace stepped out of the doorway and raced ahead, slipping down the back stairs, and moving swiftly down the hall, back pressed against the wall, head moving in both directions to ensure no one caught her.
When she’d made it to Ms. Wykes’s office, she pulled the pin from her hair, making the series of moves she’d mastered at this point. She had the door open in seconds. Sweating, her breath coming rapidly, Kandace slipped inside the room, closing the door softly behind her, engaging the lock and exhaling slowly. The Tiffani lamp on Ms. Wykes’s desk was on, the stained-glass shade deep red, green, and blue, casting the office in a somber glow. For several minutes she simply stood there listening, a few creaks and squeaks from above making their way to her ears.
She grabbed the wooden chair near the wall and slipped it under the knob, tilting it so she’d have time to . . . what? What was she going to do if she’d been unknowingly seen and Ms. Wykes and Jasper showed up again? She had no escape. The most she could do was find a weapon . . . her eyes darted around . . . the paperweight on the desk, or the pointy umbrella in the stand near the door. This time, she’d at least go down swinging.
Kandace rushed to the file cabinets, picking the lock of the first cabinet, and quietly pulling the drawer open. She rifled through the files, finding the first name in her memory, a surge of excitement causing her to inhale sharply as she pulled it from the drawer. She quickly found the second and third, moving to Ms. Wykes’s desk where she opened the first folder and gazed at the picture of the pretty young woman. God, she looked just like Dreamboat with those soulful eyes and full lips. Something caught in her throat and she swallowed it down, using her finger to quickly scan through her information. She’d been from New Jersey . . . Camden, New Jersey . . . Kandace scanned the page finding only basic information, but when she flipped the first page over, she let out a soft, “Oh.” She’d shown up pregnant. They’d contacted her family and they had requested that Lilith House facilitate an adoption. Shown up pregnant. Like Kandace had “shown up pregnant”? Kandace turned the page. God, her chest hurt. This girl who looked no older than sixteen had given birth at Lilith House under the medical care of Dr. Bill Woodrow. Her eyes scanned the sloppy writing, pulling out the words that told the story of what turned into a traumatic birth. Shoulder dystocia . . . lack of oxygen . . .
Was that it then? They’d believed Dreamboat to be mentally impaired? He wasn’t . . . though she supposed by the time they were able to ascertain that, his life had already been decided.
Kandace exhaled, closing the file and opening the next one. This girl appeared about the same age. Same story, she’d been pregnant when she arrived, Lilith House had been in charge of facilitating the adoption of the unwanted child. Birth presided over by Dr. Bill Woodrow, the baby girl born with a cleft palate. Georgia, her mother had been from Georgia.
Kandace moved her mind away from what was being done to that baby girl right that moment. Kandace’s gaze stopped on two scrawled words under Dr. Woodrow’s notes: signs of sin.
Sin? Who did that refer to? The mother or the infant? And either way, really? A doctor, a so-called medical professional, diagnosing sin? A deep shiver moved down her spine.
Kandace closed the file and opened the next one, noting the photo of the blonde and turning the page. Pregnant. Adoption facilitated by Lilith House. Dr. Bill Woodrow again making note of: signs of sin. Signs of sin. Signs of sin? What was this? Kandace