Hard News

pointed to a thin black woman in a red linen suit, sitting behind a desk covered with recycled files and empty cardboard coffee cups.
    “May I help you?” the woman asked.
    “You’re Ms. Johnson?”
    The woman smiled and they shook hands. “Sit down. You’re …?”
    “Rune.”
    “Right. You called last night.” Paper appeared and civil servant Johnson uncapped a Bic pen. “What’s your address?”
    “West Village.”
    Johnson paused. “Could you be more specific than that?”
    “Not really. It’s hard to explain.”
    “Phone number?”
    Rune said, “No.”
    “Beg pardon?”
    “I don’t have a phone.”
    “Oh.” So far she hadn’t written anything. “Is this Courtney?”
    “That’s right.”
    “We’re going to the zoo,” the little girl said.
    “What it is is this: I have a roommate, I mean
had
a roommate—her mother—and I don’t know her last name and she left me with Courtney. She just took off—can you believe it? I mean, I woke up and she was gone.”
    Johnson was frowning painfully, more mom than civil servant for the moment.
    “Anyway she went to Boston and what she did, she …” Rune’s voice fell. “… ditched you know who. And I’m like, what am I going to do? See, I wouldn’t mind if I wasn’t working, which is usually what I’m doing—not working, I mean—only now I—”
    Johnson had stopped writing. “Apparent abandonment. Happens more often than you’d think.”
    Courtney said, “Rune, I’m hungry.”
    Rune dug into her shoulder bag and pulled out a can of sardines. Johnson watched her. A can opener appeared and Rune began cranking. “I liked it better when they had that little key on them.” Rune looked at a bewildered Ms. Johnson. “You know, the key. On the cans? Like in the cartoons you always see.”
    “Cartoons?” Johnson asked. Then: “You think those are good for her?”
    “Water-packed. I wouldn’t give her oil.” She held up the can.
    Rune tucked a napkin into Courtney’s collar, then handed her a plastic fork. “Anyway, her mother’s gone and I don’t know how to find her.”
    “You don’t have any idea? No last name?”
    “Nope. Just know she’s in Boston.”
    “Bawden.”
    Johnson said, “Usually what happens in cases like these is the police get involved. They’ll contact the Boston Police and do a standard missing person search. First name, C-L-A-I-R-E?”
    “Right. I just don’t have any leads. Claire took everything with her. Except this too-disgusting old poster and some underwear. You could fingerprint it, maybe. But they probably wouldn’t be
her
fingerprints on it.”
    “Who’s Courtney’s father?”
    Rune frowned and shook her head.
    Johnson asked, “Unknown?”
    “Highly.”
    “Describe her mother to me.”
    “Claire’s about my height. Her hair’s dark now but we’re talking it started life pretty light. Kind of dirty brownish.” Rune thought for a minute. “She’s got a narrow face. She isn’t pretty. I’d say more cute—”
    “I’m really more interested in a general description that’ll help the police locate her.”
    “Okay, sure. Five-three, jet-black hair. About a hundred and ten. Wears black mostly.”
    “Grandparents or other relations?”
    “I can’t even find her mother—how’m I going to know the aunts and uncles?”
    Johnson said, “She’s really adorable. Does she have any health problems? Is there any medicine she takes?”
    “No, she’s pretty healthy. All she takes is vitamins in the shape of animals. She likes the bears best but I think that’s only because they’re cherry-flavored. You like bears, don’t you, honey?”
    Courtney had finished the sardines. She nodded.
    “Okay, well, let me tell you a little about the procedure from here on out. This’s the Child Welfare Administration, which is part of the city’s Human Resources Administration. We’ve got a network of emergency foster homes where she’ll be placed for a week or so until we can get her into a permanent foster home. Hopefully, by then we’ll have found the mother.”
    Rune’s stomach thudded. “Foster home?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Uhm, you know what you hear on the news….”
    “About the foster homes?” Johnson asked. “It’s the press that made up most of those stories.” Her voice was crisp and Rune had a flash of a different Ms. Johnson. Beneath the ruby lipstick and pseudo Ann Taylor did not beat a timid heart. She probably had a tattoo of a gang’s trademark on the