Night Light by Terri Blackstock Page B

stack: page after page of medical records, prescriptions for painkillers, xeroxed copies of other people’s driver’s licenses and credit cards.
    It looked as if Jessie’s drug-buying operation was a full-time job.
    She flipped through the xeroxed identities and stopped when she came to a Gatlin. “Bingo.”
    “What?” Doug asked.
    “Looks like this might be a relative.” She handed him the xeroxed page with a woman’s driver’s license. “And there’s an address.”
    He studied the card. “Yeah, but this expired five years ago. Tuscaloosa address.”
    “Maybe they still live there.”
    He crossed the hall and took the page to Aaron. “Aaron, do you know who this is?”
    The boy took the page. “My grandma.”
    “Great,” he said. “Then we’ve got an address.”
    Aaron said nothing.
    Deni pulled more papers out of the cabinet and a handwritten letter fell out. She picked it up and skimmed it. It was from Jessie’s parents, dated three years before. The paper was limp and wilted, as though it had been handled often. “Dad, come here.”
    Her dad came back into Jessie’s room.
    “What?”
    “A letter from her parents,” she said in a low voice.
    He looked over her shoulder. “What does it say?”
    Deni read quietly.
    Dear Jessie,
    We can’t watch you ruin your life anymore. These drugs are killing you and you know it. It’s one thing to do that to yourself but another thing entirely when your children are involved. Your kids deserve better than a drug-addicted mother who can’t love them enough to clean herself up.
    Your father and I have decided to file for custody. It breaks our heart to have you declared an unfit mother, but that’s what you are. We’ve turned our heads over the years when you’ve stolen from us, lied to us, abused us, even been violent against us, but we cannot turn our heads when our grandchildren are suffering. We’ve tried offering you treatment, wasted thousands of dollars trying to get you help, and believed your lies so many times. But nothing has changed. It’s only gotten worse. If you care anything about your children, you can surrender them to us now before we have to get the state involved. We love you and pray for you, but we realize there’s nothing more we can do for you. It can’t be all about you anymore. It has to be about your children for once. Please do the right thing.
    Mom and Dad
    Doug sat down on the bed and glanced toward the other room. “Man.”
    “They sound like decent people, Dad. Like they love the kids. It probably would be good for them to raise them.”
    “So why haven’t they come for them already?” Doug folded up the letter. “I’ll take this to the sheriff and let him try to contact them.”
    “I think you and Mom should do it. Sheriff Scarbrough is way too busy right now. He might not get around to it for a long time.”
    “But he might have ways to get in touch with them faster. Maybe he could send a messenger by car. The sooner we reach them, the better.”
     
     
    I N HIS BEDROOM , A ARON FOUND A GARBAGE BAG AND PACKED MORE stuff they would need to take back to the Brannings’. He threw in a ragtag Barbie doll with tangled hair and a torn dress for Sarah to play with, Joey’s favorite baseball cap, a Superman cape for Luke …
    Peering across the hall, he made sure Doug and Deni were busy. Then he went to the hallway and opened the cover for the air conditioner filter. A small revolver lay there, right where he’d hidden it. It had been his mother’s hiding place for both of their guns. The sheriff had taken the other one from him. But he hadn’t found this one. He took the gun out and stuffed it into his garbage bag. Now he’d feel a little more in charge.
    And if anyone messed with his family, he would be able to stand up to them. The guns had always protected him before.
    He started to close the vent, but something sticking out from the bottom of the filter caught his eye. He pulled the filter out and looked