I heard a knock on the door that may have well just been a slap to my face.

"Come in," I muttered.

"Angela," she said.  "Have you made the deposit yet?"

"I haven't had time.  I will later this week, but for now, just use what's left from the fundraiser."

    She slowly walked out the door as if she was the one that just received the bad news.  It was either I tell her that or I tell her the truth.  I'm not ready for any of my workers to know that the agency isn't only out of funds but foster children too.

    Then I received an email from a perspective couple looking to adopt a toddler.  The only thing I could do now is call around to other foster homes in the area and see if they have a child that matches the description.

                                                        *                    *                  *

    There’s that dreaded knock again.  What more do they want from me? I looked all over town, called every foster home I knew of, and even checked with other adoption agencies to help this couple find the final piece to complete their family.

“Yes?” I asked as I gave the door a death stare waiting for a response.

    A tall man walked in the room, but he wasn't wearing a nice shirt or khakis like most people that are wanting to adopt do.  He was wearing black pants and a long sleeve shirt.  As I scan this man from head to toe wondering why he is here, something on his shirt catches my eye.

"Ma'am, are you Angela Watson?" the strange man asked.

    That's when I realized what originally caught my eye.  It was a shiny, gold shield that had black lettering across it.  "Yes.  Is there a problem officer?"

"You need to come with me ma'am.  You're under arrest."

"For what? I didn't do anything wrong."

"For the kidnapping of Bobby Bova," he said while holding up a picture of the little boy that was just adopted.