The Hitting Zone-Novel

Chapter 293 Jake’s Childhood Home 1

Mary pulled into the neighborhood in 45 minutes. She had a frown on her face as she looked left and right as she drove down the streets. The houses were all one-story and looked rundown like they could collapse any second if there was an earthquake. Mary had grown up in an affluent family and had never seen such a sketchy looking neighborhood.

She parked on the street, near the supposed house that her foster son grew up. Before getting out, she decided to call Doug Duncan, their social worker liaison. "Doug...are you sure you sent me the right address?"

"It’s not what you expected?" He asked, sounding slightly distracted. "Jake’s mother didn’t have a job. She lived off welfare and god knows how she was able to afford alcohol. With her money going to the house and the bills that came with it, it’s not surprising that she had starved Jake. No money, no food."

Mary sighed. "Right. Well, I’m here. You said someone already bought the house right?"

"Last I checked, it was off the market." The background noise on his end for louder all of a sudden. "Mary, we’ll have to chat later. My hands are kind of full at the moment."

"Yes, of course, I understand." She hung up and gave him his freedom. She was slightly curious if all social workers had to go in on a Sunday or if some emergency had came up for Doug. Usually he was patient and could make time to hear about her concerns relating to Jake, but this was the first time he had brushed her off. Could he have found out anything regarding Jake’s family? Nahh, he would have said something. Maybe he just got a new case. Doug was a dedicated social worker with an emphasis on troubling cases like parents nearly killing their kids. It must be rough.

She clenched her phone tightly as she mustered up the courage to step out of the car. She locked the doors and slowly made her way to the house number given to her. The house was an ugly shade of mustard yellow, that had faded and looked like it could use some power washing. The front yard was minuscule, yet looked to be properly manicured and taken care of.

Mary stepped on the one stair it took to reach the front door. She took a deep breath and knocked three times with enough strength to make sure she was heard.

It was only a second before the door swung open and revealed a short Mexican woman. "Yes, can I help you?" She was young and dressed in a uniform that implied she worked at the theme park nearby.

Mary cleared her throat. "Hello, I’m Mary Atkins. You don’t know me, but I had something to ask of you if you can spare me a few minutes."

The woman looked at her with suspicion and closed the door a little. "What is it?"

Mary stepped back to give her space and to let her know that she wasn’t a threat. "It’s like this. My foster son grew up here with his birth mom. They had a rocky relationship and he was thankfully rescued from her. This happened last year around the summer, but he’s only been with us for a month. My husband and I were interested in knowing how and where he grew up, and if we could get any hints of his past by coming here and exploring."

"And where is your husband?" The woman vigilantly looked up and down the street, looking for another suspicious character.

"He with our kids at home. Just south of San Francisco." Mary gave a tight-lipped smile. "I just dropped off my eldest for a college visit so it’s just me."

The woman stayed on guard. "You said a boy lived here? Was he young?"

"He was forced to leave right before high school." Mary went into more detail. "He was badly beaten, then had to reside in a hospital for quite some time before moving up north with my family. He suffers from anxiety and doesn’t talk much so I was hoping to learn what his life was like by firsthand experience."

The woman checked the time on her wristwatch. "I have a little more than an hour to spare before work. I can give you a quick tour, but if you’re hoping to find some personal items, I’m sorry, but this place was completely empty when I moved in." She opened her door wider for Mary.

"Thank you, really, thank you very much." Mary walked into the house, finding the inside more appealing than the outside. The woman had decorated the small space very nicely and it looked to be fully furnished. "Lovely place."

The short woman gave a nod of thanks. "I’m Camila Vega. I just moved in after the new year." She waved at the living room which was what the front door opened up to. "It’s very small, but I like it. Easy to clean. This is the living room, and the supposed dining room but I have no need for a kitchen table. I just eat at the kitchen counter." She waved at a small area right nearby. It was an all white kitchen barely ten feet wide, with most of the space taken over by the fridge and stove. "Kitchen. Right past that is the back door, not much of a yard, but it can also take you to the side street."

The woman glanced at Mary’s face but couldn’t read her facial expressions so she moved on down the hall. "At the end is the master bedroom, it’s almost half the house. This is the only other room here." The woman stopped halfway down the hall and opened the door. "I wouldn’t call it a bedroom, just a more glorified closet." True to her word, the room could barely hold a twin size bed, but she just used it for her laundry with clothes thrown everywhere."

Mary sighed at the sight. "Sure enough, this would have been his room. No wonder he didn’t think sharing a room with my youngest son would be cramped." She smiled at the woman. "Thanks. This was all I really needed." She started to move back to the front door.

"All you needed?" Camila asked. "If this was all you needed, why didn’t you just check out the online listing. Although the house was bought by me, they keep the pictures listed." She tilted her head. "You wanted to know more about the boy you took in right?"

Now it was Mary’s turn to look on with suspicion. "Did you know about the previous owner?"

Camila shook her head no, making Mary hang her head, but then her words pulled her back in. "I didn’t know either of them personally. Just word of mouth. My grandfather lives across the street. He’s the one that told me that this house would be on the market soon after the incident. He knew she wouldn’t be coming back and that’s how I was able to prepare and gather enough money to make a down payment. I can introduce you to him. He may know more."

Mary nodded as fast as she could. "Yes, please! That would be great! Even if he only knows a little, it wouldn’t hurt to have a smidge of insight."