Chapter 7 - Paula Rourke Makes a Call
Dana filed the formal complaint on a Tuesday. By Thursday afternoon, Paula Rourke was calling my cell.
I was in the school pickup line when it rang. I saw the number — the agency line, one I recognized from the adoption paperwork — and I answered.
"Claire." Warm. Rehearsed. "I'm so glad I caught you. I was hoping we could talk."
"Of course."
"I've been made aware of some concerns. I think there's been a misunderstanding about Eli's history, and I'd love a chance to sit down and clear it up. For Eli's sake, obviously. These disruptions are so hard on kids who've already had a rough road."
She was using Eli as the concern. I kept my voice flat and even.
"I appreciate that. What kind of misunderstanding?"
"Well, some of the documentation in his file may have been misread. Context matters so much in these cases. A child with repeated placement disruption can develop coping patterns that look alarming on paper but are really just responses to instability." A brief pause. "I'd hate for anyone to jump to the wrong conclusion."
"What conclusion are you worried about?"
One beat of silence.
"I've given fifteen years to this agency, Claire. Fifteen years actually protecting children. I would hate to watch all of that undone by incomplete information." The warmth had cooled by a degree. "If we sat down in person, woman to woman, I could help you see the whole picture."
"I'd like that," I said. "Bring Eli's original file. The unedited version, with the original timestamps."
Three full seconds of nothing.
"I'm not sure what you mean by that."
"The audit logs," I said. "From six years ago. The ones that show three entries added to Eli's file after the placement disruptions were already recorded. The ones authored under your account."
Nothing.
"Paula. I have copies."
"I think," she said, and her voice had changed completely now — flatter, careful, "that you should talk to an attorney before you make any more accusations."
"I already have one," I said. "She filed the complaint two days ago."
The call ended.
Eli was at the car window. He pulled the door open and dropped his backpack on the floor mat.
"You okay?" He was watching my face.
"Rourke just called me."
He went still. "What'd she say?"
"Tried to warn me off. Politely." I pulled out of the line. "It didn't work."
He was quiet for a moment. "She's going to try something. She always does."
"I know," I said. "We're ready."
I believed that when I said it.
May you like
I stopped believing it forty minutes later, when Dana called to tell me someone had contacted the agency's board of directors and filed a counter-complaint — claiming I was an unstable adoptive parent coaching a troubled kid into false allegations, and requesting an emergency review of Eli's placement.
They were trying to take him.
