Concealed in Death (In Death #38)(58)

“Another? I hate to think . . . Yes! Oh, this is Mikki—I told you about her yesterday. Shelby, Mikki, T-Bone. Mikki . . . I don’t remember her full name.”

“Mikki Wendall.”

“Yes, that’s it. But she was placed back in the parental home. I remember that. I remember because it was right after they’d moved here—or a week or so, I’m not sure. I remember because I came with my grandmother to see this new place. I was so nervous,” she murmured with a small smile. “Seeing everyone again, and I heard—DeLonna told me—both Shelby and Mikki were gone. Shelby to foster, Mikki back home.”

She’d seen the Wendall paperwork, Eve thought now. But no Missing Persons report had been filed on Mikki by the custodial parent. “Peabody, get the data on Mikki Wendall. Do you know if she had contact with Shelby after they left The Sanctuary?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t. I was working hard to turn that corner, to rebuild myself, to keep myself straight so I could stay with my grandmother. I didn’t keep in touch with any of the girls here.”

With a last look at the printouts, she handed them back to Peabody. “I wouldn’t have with Shelby in any case. She was, and it sounds harsh now, but she was trouble. I’d had enough trouble. Mikki was—it’s easier to see now with adult hindsight and training—she was needy, so wanted to fit in. She’d have done anything for Shelby’s approval, and did. I’m not sure she ever had a friend before Shelby and DeLonna, and T-Bone.”

“We found it!” Shivitz bustled back in, waving a disc and hard copy. “Oh, Seraphim, I’m just that upset. It all seems like too much.”

“It’s a difficult time, Matron.” Seraphim rose, wrapped Shivitz in a hug. “Difficult and incomprehensible. But the children depend on us.”

“I know it, I know it. One was Shelby Stubacker. You must remember her. She was a hard one to forget.”

“Yes, I know.”

“But she was gone,” Shivitz insisted, and pushed the documentation at Eve. “She’d been placed in foster care. It was after you left, Seraphim, and right in the middle of the move. In fact, the paperwork still has The Sanctuary information.”

“Uh-huh.” Eve studied the hard copies, shook her head. “It’s a half-decent fake.”

“Fake!” Shivitz bristled with outrage. “What do you mean fake? That’s absurd.”

“So is spelling borough b-u-r-r-o-w. One of those spell-check errors, I’d guess. A couple of other things, but that’s the big tell.”

“Let me see that.” Shivitz snatched it away, peered down, and went dead pale. “Oh dear God. Oh Lord. I don’t understand this. I don’t know how this could happen.”

“Sit down now. Sit down and catch your breath.” Seraphim eased Shivitz into a chair.

“How did the paperwork come in?” Eve demanded.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. It must just be a mistake. Can’t it just be a clerical mistake?”

“I don’t think so.”

Seraphim glanced back as doors began to open, voices carried down the stairs, clumping feet sounded above.

“Can we take this in Mr. Jones’s office? I’ll go find him. He needs to know, he may remember something.”

“Let’s do that.” She signaled Peabody. Her partner nodded, crossed toward the office while she continued to talk on her ’link.

“What do you remember?” Eve asked Shivitz.

“I just don’t, not really. We were carrying boxes and tables and chairs, and so many things. Inside, upstairs, downstairs. Somebody told me—I’m not sure who—Shelby was going into a foster home. I remember thinking we might be able to start off more peacefully in our new home.”

“What seems to be the problem?” All business, Nash Jones clipped into the room, eased the door closed.

“The paperwork removing Shelby Ann Stubacker from your care and putting her in foster care is a forgery.”

“I’m sure that can’t be.” He took the paperwork, carried it around to his desk, sat. “It certainly looks to be in order. I’m not sure what you . . .”

“Caught it?”

He leaned forward, pushing at his hair as he studied it again. “How did this get through? This isn’t my signature. Matron, Seraphim, it’s not my signature.”

Seraphim moved closer, read over his shoulder. “It’s not. It’s close, but it’s not your signature.”

“We can and will have that verified,” Eve told him, “but for now, what the hell happened?”

“I have no idea. Let me think. Let me think.” He shut his eyes, breathed slow and deep in what Eve assumed was some form of meditation. Another minute of that would, she knew, piss her off. But he stopped, opened his eyes.

“I remember. Matron—not you, dear,” he said to Shivitz. “Matron Orwin telling me Shelby’s paperwork was on my desk in my office, which had yet to be organized. We were still moving in—we had abbreviated classes and group, we’d divided up staff and residents into teams, so everyone had a part in making up our new space. We were excited, all of us—the newness, the larger space, excited, grateful.”

“We were.” Shivitz twisted her fingers together as she nodded. “So excited and grateful.”