Goddess of Gotham Read Online Free PDF Page B

a quandary. The kid was obviously not from the United States but from quite where was another matter. There were so many tourists
in town for the parade that she could be from any place in the world. In all his time working the 14th precinct, Sergeant Rooney had not seen anything like it. Sure, he had come across all types.
But this kid was pretty different. There was something about her, something strange aside from her garments. A certain look behind those eyes, an imperiousness about her bearing.
    ‘I tell you, that kid is someone,’ he said to his buddy.
    ‘Yeah, they’re all someone,’ scoffed his buddy.
    ‘No, I mean really someone. Like, you know, important.’
    The other officer scratched his head. ‘Yeah, OK, whatever.’
    Soon Child Services would be here. Then she was no longer their problem. What with the parade and all, it had taken time to find someone. Imagine the kid running through the marching bands,
accosting Santa Claus. It was a miracle there had been no accident. Sergeant Rooney sighed aloud.
    ‘I’m Lisa Anderson.’
    A young woman stood before them, straight blond hair hanging smooth to her shoulders. Her blue eyes were steady, her handshake firm, her face sprinkled with a few freckles.
    ‘From Children and Family Services,’ she added.
    The other officer glanced at his watch. ‘You’re the babysitter, right?’ he said, gruffly. ‘You sure took your time.’ These welfare types always sounded so
superior.
    ‘You try getting across town today,’ Lisa Anderson snapped back. She might look fragile but there was no messing with her.
    ‘She’s through here,’ interjected Sergeant Rooney, throwing a look at his colleague. Sometimes he could be such a jerk.
    The welfare woman smiled slightly.
    Sergeant Rooney had a soft spot for kids: so far, he had thirteen grandchildren. His heart went out to the little girl. What kind of parents would let her get lost like that? Surreptitiously, he
wiped a tear from his eye, then addressed himself to the holiday roster. He marked himself as on vacation for Christmas and New Year’s with a small grimace of satisfaction.
    Lisa Anderson bustled down the corridor, following the officer’s broad back. Cops, they were all the same. Made her job twice as difficult. Under one arm, her briefcase
bulged, paperwork spilling from its split seams. There would be more forms to fill in with this one, an endless barrage of documents. At the door to the holding cell, the officer gestured.
    ‘The kid’s in there,’ he indicated with his thumb, then turned on his heel.
    Slipping inside the cell, Lisa’s eyes fell on a red bundle. One tiny foot dangled over the bench, encased in a flimsy sandal. Sandals in November – now Lisa really had seen it
all. Bending forward, she brushed the little foot with her fingertips. The copper skin felt icy.
    ‘You poor thing,’ Lisa murmured. Amazing how this job could still get to you. At the sound of her voice, the bundle stirred. A sleepy head raised itself from within. Lisa found
herself staring into the most remarkable eyes, at once innocent and knowing. A curtain of raven hair fell straight around a perfect face. Despite her dishevelment, the child was breathtaking.
    ‘Hi, I’m Lisa,’ she offered, holding out her hand.
    The girl stared in bewilderment.
    ‘I’ve come to take you to a foster home,’ she continued.
    Still, the girl gazed at her, dumbfounded.
    With a sigh, Lisa helped the girl up from the bench. They would need to find an interpreter. Although goodness knows what language this girl spoke – some kind of Asian dialect, she would
guess. Brightly, Lisa chivvied the girl along, signing the appropriate paperwork. The kid’s head remained bowed until a sudden commotion in the corridor brought it snapping up.
    A couple of officers were herding in four foreign men. The men were jabbering excitedly in their own language, clearly trying to protest. At the sight of them, the kid cowered, grabbing at