Blue Waltz
Chapter 7: Modulation
Sept 12
Nobody expects their doorbell to ring at two o'clock in the morning, least of all Duncan Musman. He was far too important and powerful to lose his sleep due to whatever idiot disturbed him. Dressed in a silky bathrobe and animal skin slippers—yes, illegal in St. Canard, but a luxury well worth the risk—he went to the door and looked out the peephole, seeing the stupid face of Butch Bakerson the bulldog, jowls quivering. Behind him was Millie Carna, actually being smart as she kept an eye on the apartment building hallway.
What were they doing here? Didn't he tell them that they couldn't meet in person? They were going to ruin everything.
Yanking open the door, Duncan hissed, "Get it, you idiots, before someone sees you."
Butch stumbled in, eager to obey, his ears as down as he could get them. Millie kept her cool, sliding in without a sound and closing the door softly behind her.
"Why are you here?" Duncan asked, using all his willpower not to yell. He couldn't risk his neighbors hearing a peep.
"We lost the girl," Millie announced, folding her arms.
"What?" Duncan seethed, grinding his teeth. "You lost her? How?"
Butch, his voice gravelly and loud even when he whispered, began to speak, "It wasn't our—"
Duncan shoved his hand into Butch's face, stopping him. "You don't say a word." He looked to Millie for information.
"It was the social worker," Millie said, frowning. "She came back and helped the girl escape."
Charity. He should have known that if something would go wrong with this plan, she would be in the thick of it. It was always her. But this was the last time. He would find some reason to fire her. However, when he heard the story in detail, he knew that wouldn't be the case. She was practically a victim after Millie had tasered her into unconsciousness. If he fired her, there would be suspicion to deal with. As much as he liked to think he could get away with anything, there were still a lot of powerful people that were beyond his influence. And the media was one of them. More than likely, they would paint Charity as some sort of hero.
And on top of that, on Monday he would be dealing with an investigation into DCF. It was his signature on the documents. In the original plan, nobody should have found out about the girl's disappearance for weeks, which would give him enough time to sow enough doubt in the paperwork and red tape to leave him smelling like a rose. He planned on blaming a secretary for a poorly executed background check or some other paper pusher that would be fired for their incompetence.
But this…he wouldn't get away with it unscathed. Oh, he would still get away with it. He had too many friends and favors to call in to get caught. But it would be a black mark against him.
Not to mention, the man behind the curtain—using the turn of phrase—wouldn't be happy that Duncan wasn't able to deliver on his promises.
"Do you realize how much trouble I'm in because of your bungling?" Duncan growled at his two henchmen, his fingers taut into claw-like appendages.
"She caught me off guard," Butch whined.
"Ah. Ah," Duncan tsked harshly, holding a finger to the bulldog. "You don't speak."
Butch crumpled in on himself, trying to make himself look small as possible but only managed to create a hill of his back.
"The police know what we look like," Millie said. "Our descriptions are on the news."
Duncan wished that for once he had watched the late night news. It had always been his routine to rent a movie and drink a glass of wine before bed so he wouldn't be burdened by the terrors of humanity that new anchors cheerfully announced on every channel. He preferred to read about bad news in the morning over coffee.
"We need help getting out of the city," Millie continued.
"Get out yourselves," Duncan said coldly. "I thought I hired professionals. If you botch a job, then you take care of the aftermath."
Millie smirked. "Fine. But if we get caught, I wonder how interested the police will be if we tell them who paid us to kidnap that girl."
And no doubt Darkwing Duck as well.
Clenching his fists, Duncan went to his desk and scribbled a few lines in a notepad before ripping the scrap away. "Here. This is a contact of mine from the docks," he said, handing it over. "He'll get you on a boat and away from St. Canard. But don't you dare ever return."
"Not planning on it," Millie said, snatching the paper. "Come on, Butch. Let's see what Cape Suzette has for us."
The crow, followed by the bulldog, finally left his apartment, leaving not a trace that they were there except for an empty echo in Duncan's memories.
Let them flee St. Canard. There were benefits to being the low man on the totem pole. They may be wanted by the police, but at least they weren't in the hot seat that Duncan was now in. They didn't have to inform a very powerful person that Gosalyn Mallard was out of their reach, that she was now being watched and protected.
Wiping away sweat and gulping with a dry throat, Duncan picked up his phone and dialed the number he had memorized. After showing the pictures of Gosalyn with Darkwing Duck to Charity.
The phone rang three times before it was picked up, the other line remaining silent.
"Hello?" Duncan asked, wondering if there was something wrong with the connection.
"Speak," the voice on the other line said, masculine, smooth and heavy with a European accent.
"The girl…Gosalyn Mallard…she escaped," Duncan said shakily.
"We know. It was on the news," the voice said calmly.
Perhaps he should start watching the news.
"She'll be watched. I…I don't think I can get her again," Duncan said, worried that whoever was on the other line would insist he take the child no matter the cost. And the cost would be high.
"Don't worry about it," the voice said. "We have everything we need. The girl is away from her father, and that is enough. Your job is done."
Duncan felt relieved. The voice didn't sound angry. "Then you'll transfer the money into my account?"
"No."
"What? But I should be compensated for my troubles," Duncan insisted, feeling bold despite his earlier fears. "Not to mention, the police will be knocking on my door, looking for answers. You wouldn't want me to be giving them the right answers."
"That is your mess. You clean it up," the voice said, sounding amused. "Talking to the police will only bring your own house down. They cannot find us."
"What about Darkwing Duck?" Duncan asked. "It's harder to hide from him than from the police.
What was he doing? Was he seriously threatening a mysterious and powerful player from the dark, underbelly of society?
There was a chuckle over the phone. "Go ahead, Mr. Musman. Talk to Darkwing Duck. He's going to find himself too busy to investigate every lead that comes his way. He can try to find us, but he won't. Even this number is about to become a deadend."
And just as he brushed off the crow and bulldog, Duncan was about to swept under the rug like any other lackey.
"Mr. Musman, I suggest you clean house. You're about to have some very powerful eyes on you," the voice said kindly before the phone went dead.
The second that he left Gosalyn asleep in her new bed, Darkwing Duck wanted to get on the trail of the crow and bulldog, but unfortunately there were other things going on in the city. No sooner had he retrieved Launchpad, a call came in about another warehouse robbery.
"We don't have time for a robbery," Darkwing grumbled. "We need to look for Gosalyn's kidnappers."
"But you're Darkwing Duck. You're supposed to protect the whole city, not just Gosalyn," Launchpad reasoned. "Besides, we don't have any leads. What are we going to do, just drive around and hope we get lucky?"
That was exactly Darkwing's plan, but after what Launchpad said, perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea.
"The police are looking for them. There's a whole lot more of them than us, so maybe we should leave it to them," Launchpad said. "And in the meantime, we can go look at the warehouse robbery."
For the first time, Darkwing realized he wasn't thinking straight. Between Gosalyn almost being kidnapped and Miss Loveatte's revelation that it was all because of him, the night had shaken him to the core. He was angry and scared and wanted only to take away any and all threats against his daughter, which was impairing his judgement.
And somehow Launchpad had recognized that and spoken in the right tone, using the right words to bring Darkwing back to reality.
"You're right, Launchpad," Darkwing said, although he hated to admit that he was merely one duck. "Maybe while we investigate the robbery, the police will find something."
Changing direction, Darkwing headed toward the warehouse address. However, he was frustrated when he searched the scene of the crime to find just as little evidence as before.
"Blankets," Darkwing said, scanning the ground once more. "Hundreds and hundreds of blankets. But they didn't take anything else."
The warehouse was still stocked with other items, but only the blankets were taken. Nobody would have known about the robbery until the workers came in to take inventory except that the night guard saw an unknown truck pulling away from the bay doors.
"Hmmmm," Darkwing thought, getting an idea. "It makes me wonder if there's a lot more warehouses that have been hit, and we just don't know it."
"What do you mean, DW?" Launchpad asked.
"If it wasn't for that night guard, this theft would have gone unreported for days, maybe even weeks," Darkwing said. "There could be dozens of warehouses and stores that have been broken into without us knowing." He marched to the officer on duty who was taping off the area. He then explained that he wanted the police to check out every warehouse in the city and ask the owner sto do a complete inventory, voicing his suspicions that the thief had been more productive than they first thought.
"He may be sneaking off with items every night," Darkwing said, getting back on the Ratcatcher. "There may be dozens of clues that we've missed because of it. Let's go."
"Where are we going?" Launchpad asked, putting on his helmet and jumping into the sidecar.
"Back to the lair. This case needs more thinking and less legwork," Darkwing explained. "And at the same time, I think we can help Gosalyn by doing some research rather than wasting gas and time riding around on the streets."
Up in the Audubon Bridge, Darkwing went right to his super computer, getting it started on locating any warehouses that were outside St. Canard's city limits that had been broken into recently. At the same time, he entered the SHUSH database that he had access to, looking for the man that Miss Loveatte had told him about, the Director of St. Canard's DCF: Duncan Musman.
He wasn't expecting anything and was surprised that SHUSH did have a file on Musman. According to SHUSH, Musman knew people who knew people who knew people in FOWL. It was a far cry from being a terrorist, but he was still a person of interest.
Darkwing made a note to ask J. Gander about what SHUSH has done in regards to Musman. While the anti-terrorist organization might have little interest in the mouse at that moment, the fact that he was now involved in a case Darkwing Duck was investigating might put a fire under the bureaucrat's rear end.
However, the local police had no criminal record for Musman, not even a parking ticket. Whatever Musman had done to get under SHUSH's radar obviously had gone unreported to the SCPD. Which meant, he had connections.
By that time, the computer had finished its search, showing several warehouse robberies throughout the state, many of them right outside of St. Canard. Downloading the police reports, Darkwing read through each one, most of them fitting his perp's MO. These warehouses had several of the same items stolen, and the thief left the rest of the merchandise alone. He added these thefts to the list, finding gallons and gallons of fuel and generators the most interesting of the group.
Whoever this thief was, they were working and living off the grid. Were they in St. Canard or somewhere nearby?
He went over the information again and again, but found nothing new. Instead, he turned his attention back to helping Gosalyn. Namely, researching DCF regulations and laws regarding children. Miss Loveatte had suggested he get a lawyer, but he was going to be as informed as anyone in that courtroom.
When the crick in his neck became unbearable and his eyes couldn't focus on the screen for one more second, he stepped away, surprised that the clock read five in the morning. By the snoring that rivaled Godzilla, Launchpad had crashed—literally—on the couch.
Too tired to go home, Darkwing Duck sought out the bed he kept in his lair. Although it was cold and dank in the lair, he didn't want to return to his empty house. He wasn't sure if he could, not until the future looked brighter.
When Gosalyn woke up, she was disoriented by all the pinks and purples before remembering that it wasn't her room. Thank goodness, especially since she had stared at the baby crib for a few minutes as her brain rebooted from the night's sleep. She started to undress before realizing she didn't have anything to change into, still wearing her clothes from yesterday, even her shoes.
Creeping out into the hallway, she could hear two voices conversing and the popping and sizzling of bacon.
"Oh, there she is," Aimee said with a bright smile. "How do you like your eggs? Scrambled? Poached?"
"Scrambled," Gosalyn said, who didn't know what poached eggs were. "It smells really good."
"Don't get used to it," Charity said next to her at the table. She sipped from a coffee mug. "Mom's a great cook, but I'm afraid it didn't rub off on me. At least, not for this early in the morning."
"It's eight o'clock. It's not that early," Aimee said, waving a spatula at her daughter.
The elder lovebird was dressed and prepped with her hair in a stylish bun and natural makeup applied while her daughter remained in flannel pajamas, slippers and her hair more bush than curls.
"How about after breakfast, we take you shopping, luv?" Aimee said, carrying over a stack of pancakes and a bottle of syrup. "I'm not leaving this apartment until I know you're going to be well cared for."
Charity smirked at Gosalyn before leaning over and whispering, "She thinks that I don't know anything about children even though that's practically my entire job."
"Hmph, saving children and caring for them are two different things," Aimee said, bringing over a plate of bacon and sausage, still crackling from the hot pan. "And I know you. The minute I'm gone, the two of you will be eating take-out and watching movies and playing that crazy game station all day. I hope you'll at least let her get some fresh air and sunshine once in a while."
Charity leaned back. "Well, I've got to take Bunny for walks sometime."
The Corgi, who had his eyes locked on the plate of bacon, looked to Charity at the sound of his name before going back to the bacon.
"Wait, you have video games, Miss Loveatte?" Gosalyn asked with interest.
"Yeah, but it's an older console," Charity said. "One of my old roommates, her brother came over all the time to play because he couldn't afford a TV. But then they had a big fight, and when she moved out, she told me I could keep it. I never heard back from either of them, so it's mine now."
"What games to you have?" Gosalyn asked.
"Go take a look. It's under the TV," Charity said, grabbing some food and arranging it on her plate.
Gosalyn did just that, finding the selection less directed toward her tastes. There were a lot of puzzle games like Tetris and some cutesy, kid games about animals. There was a racing game, and some adventure games like Zorda and Meowrio that were big names in the video game industry, but Charity didn't have any fighting or shooting games that Gosalyn excelled at.
"Oh, hockey!" Gosalyn finally said, finding the last, dusty game in the back.
"Are you on a team?" Aimee asked when Gosalyn returned to the table.
"Not yet. Try-outs are next week," Gosalyn said, her heart dropping. "Will I be able to try-out?"
"Of course," Charity said but then frowned. "Oh, that means you'll need some equipment. Maybe the school will have some we can rent."
"Let's worry about that later," Aimee said. "Who knows. Gosalyn may be with her father in a couple of days. You said that the case will be in front of a judge on Tuesday."
"Tuesday?" Gosalyn asked. "Will my dad be there, too, Miss Loveatte?"
"Yes," Charity said. "And you don't have to call me Miss Loveatte. Call me Charity."
"Okay," Gosalyn said, feeling odd at the thought of calling an adult that was supposed to be her pseudo-parent by her first name. But it did sound odd calling her Miss Loveatte all the time.
"Normally, nobody works on Saturday, but I've been making some calls," Charity said between bites. "In fact, your new social worker is supposed to drop by in a few minutes."
Gosalyn remained silent for the rest of breakfast as the mother and daughter exchanged small talk. Every once in a while, she slipped a morsel down to Bunny, who had parked himself right by her feet. Once, when Charity caught her, the lovebird winked, giving the dog a bite of sausage as well.
"You're going to make that dog fat," Aimee muttered.
Their breakfast was almost done when a knock came from the door. Charity opened it and asked a female duck to come inside.
"Gosalyn, this is Natalie Runner. She's going to be your new social worker," Charity said. "We'll give you some time to talk."
Aimee took a few more bites of her breakfast before the lovebirds left, going back to the bedrooms.
The new social worker asked Gosalyn a few questions, a lot of them the same that Charity had asked her previously. When Gosalyn asked about it, Natalie smiled as she answered.
"We just wanted to get things organized so that Charity could be your legal guardian," Natalie said. "And that means re-doing the paperwork, which is tedious. Thank you so much for being patient, and I'm so sorry for everything you've gone through."
Natalie seemed to be about Charity's age, but she acted a lot less severe than Charity had. At least, less severe than Charity acted at DCF. Charity seemed a different person this morning, more relaxed.
"Are you going to be okay going to court on Tuesday?" Natalie asked.
"Yeah. I'm going to be able to see my dad, right?" Gosalyn asked.
Natalie's beak pressed in a thin line. "He'll be there, but we're not supposed to let you interact with him."
"You mean I can't even talk to him," Gosalyn protested.
"Try to understand, sweetie," Natalie said, patting Gosalyn's knee. "These rules were designed to protect children. They can't be different for each case. But it's my job to speak on your behalf and represent your best interest."
"I want to go home with my dad," Gosalyn said.
Natalie smiled. "I will do what I can, sweetie. Now, before I go, is there anything I can do for you? Is there anything that you need?"
Gosalyn shook her head. "Charity and her mom are taking me shopping. But I left my bags at the other house, the one with the kidnappers. Is there any way I can get it back?"
Natalie nodded. "I'll see what I can do?" She called to Charity, and the lovebirds returned to the living room area.
"Thank you for doing this, Natalie," Charity said as Natalie gathered her papers.
"It's a pleasure. And it's nice to meet you, Gosalyn," Natalie said, heading to the door.
"Just a minute," Charity said, stepping outside with the duck, closing the door behind her.
On the couch, Gosalyn looked around the apartment, seeing that Aimee had headed back to the kitchen and was cleaning up. Bunny followed her, looking for scraps. Remembering how she was supposed to be a spy, Gosalyn went to the front door and opened it a crack.
"Charity, I can't talk to you about this," Natalie's voice came through as well as a cool draft.
"I'm not breaking any rules. I just want to make sure you're aware of Duncan's role in this," Charity said. "I'm not talking to you as Gosalyn's foster parent but as your supervisor."
"I can handle this, Charity. You're the one who trained me," Natalie said with a bright smile.
Severe Charity was back, folding her arms. Even her flannel pajamas didn't dampen her air of authority. "You don't know Duncan Musman like I do. If he so much as twitches a whisker in your direction, you let me know."
"Yes. Okay, Charity," Natalie said with a wider smile and shake of her head. "Don't worry so much. I'll see you on Monday."
"Say hi to your family for me."
Gosalyn raced away from the door, pretending she had been fiddling with the video game console the entire time with none of the adults the wiser.
"Well, now that we got that taken care of, let's go get dressed, kiddo," Charity said, waving to Gosalyn. "I think I have a shirt that'll fit you."
Sept 15
Gosalyn was allowed to skip school for the trial. She was relieved, and not because it got her out of a day of school. It was just weird being in the building, doing something so normal, seeing Honker and her other friends but knowing she wouldn't be going home. Instead, she rode a different bus that took her to a "daycare." They didn't call it that because it was only for older kids, but that's what it was. She worked on her homework and tried to read her assigned book until Charity picked her up after work, then they went back to the apartment and ordered Chinese food.
Living with Charity wasn't completely terrible, but it was just odd since she wasn't used to it. She missed her dad and Launchpad and her old house, and the more she thought about them, the more homesick she felt. She wasn't even looking forward to hockey season any more.
But now it was the day of the trial, and Gosalyn felt butterflies in her stomach. She was wearing a dress, one that Aimee had helped pick out for her just for going to court. She hadn't even protested putting it on, glad that it was black and simple instead of all the other frilly dresses in the store.
Charity led the way into the official, stone building. There were a lot of people in the court house, and Gosalyn kept the lovebird in sight as she glanced around. There were a lot of people waiting on benches, some in professional clothing like Charity, looking as if they belonged there. Some looked nervous, pacing the floor and muttering to themselves. A few times, Gosalyn spotted people in handcuffs, a police escort next to them. These times, Charity kept herself between Gosalyn and the handcuffed person.
But after all she had seen, there was no sign of her dad. Was he coming today? Or did he have to wait in a different part of the building where she wouldn't see him until they were in the courtroom?
"Natalie," Charity called out to the social worker.
The social worker nervously sifted through some paperwork. She looked as bad as Gosalyn felt, as if she were going to throw up.
"Are you okay? Did something happen?" Charity asked, putting a hand on Natalie's shoulder.
"Uh…well…there have been a few changes with…the courtroom," Natalie stuttered.
"Did they change judges?" Charity said. "Look, sometimes that happens. You know this. You know all the judges. Everything is going to be okay. Is it Judge Bertrand?"
"No, it's Judge Everheart," Natalie said softly.
Charity's eyebrows furrowed. "What? No, that can't be. He's in criminal court."
"They brought him into family court," Natalie said. "Judge Goosetoph had a family emergency, and Judge Everheart is stepping in."
"That doesn't make sense. Why not reschedule?" Charity said, shaking her head. She looked away. "Duncan. He did this. He must have that judge in his pocket."
"Do you really think so?" Natalie asked, almost dropping her papers.
"What's going on?" Gosalyn asked, only understand a little of what they said.
Charity looked down at her, shifting her gaze at Natalie before taking the duckling's hand and leading her to a bench. "Gosalyn, please stay right here for a few minutes while I talk to Natalie."
"Is something wrong?"
Charity sighed. "I don't know. I just need to talk to Natalie."
The two adults moved farther away, their voices too soft for Gosalyn to hear. With nothing to do, she played with a loose thread at the hem of her dress. A few minutes later, she heard her name. Looking up, she saw her father coming down the hallway flagged by Launchpad and a hawk in a pinstripe suit. However, it wasn't Drake that had called but Launchpad whom she hadn't seen since Friday.
Ignoring Charity telling her to stay, she raced down the hallway, rushing into her father's arms. Despite the fact that he had been keeping his promise and tucking her in at night, those few minutes together weren't enough.
"Gosalyn, you have to let go," Drake said gently, but he wasn't letting go either.
"Mr. Mallard," Charity's voice came from behind. "I hope you are doing well."
"Physically," Drake replied, standing up and out of Gosalyn's embrace.
"I'm glad to see you took my advice and got yourself some counsel," Charity said.
Nobody had pulled her away, so Gosalyn remained near her dad, holding his hand. Somehow, in this setting with all these people, she felt younger than her ten years. She couldn't manage to summon that spirited girl she once was.
"I will do anything to get my daughter back," Drake said.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from your daughter," Natalie said, her voice stern. "We have to follow the rules."
"Of course," Drake said, his voice dry.
Charity gently took Gosalyn's other hand, and for a moment, the three were connected until Gosalyn broke contact with her father. As she was led into the courtroom, she took a backward glance at Drake.
The courtroom wasn't like what she had seen on TV. It was much smaller and a whole lot less dramatic. The judge's bench was smaller and there were only enough seats for a little more than a dozen people. The bailiff ushered them in. Gosalyn and Charity sat in the last row on the left side of the room while Natalie went to sit at the very front. Drake, Launchpad and the hawk that was with them went to the front on the other side of the room, Launchpad sitting in the second row behind them. Not long after that, a male sparrow took a seat behind Natalie.
"Please rise for Judge Everheart," the bailiff said, sounding a lot less formal than the actors on TV.
However, the judge was exactly as Gosalyn expected. A wrinkly, stern pelican came in through his chamber's door and sat down, making the small judge's bench look like a throne with his air of importance.
"Sit," he said succinctly, picking up a paper from the desk before looking at each individual in the room.
Things went by quickly after that, half of what was spoken went over Gosalyn's head. The first to speak was Natalie, who summarized Gosalyn's case, reading mainly from the notes that Charity had left in her file and why Gosalyn was seized from the home.
"These are serious charges. Mr. Gunter, I see that you're in my courtroom. Has the DA's office decided to pursue charges against Mr. Mallard for child abuse?" Judge Everheart asked.
The sparrow stood up. "No, your Honor. We will not be charging Mr. Mallard with criminal child abuse."
"What? Why not?" the judge asked gruffly.
"To be perfectly honest, we think that in this case, DCF jumped the gun and seized a child that didn't need to be taken away. When we looked over the evidence on the case, we found it to be insubstantial and wouldn't stand in criminal court," the sparrow said professionally.
"Are you certain? This is a child's life and welfare on the line," Judge Everheart asked, his eyes piercing.
"I'm certain, your Honor."
"Your Honor," the hawk said, standing up. "Considering the DA's stance on Mr. Mallard's case, I move that this case be dismissed and that Mr. Mallard's daughter be returned to his household. Previous to Gosalyn being taken from her home, DCF was already investigating the Mallards and had requested him to complete a parenting class and a few other regulations in regards to a minor case of neglect. Mr. Mallard was complying with all of DCF's wishes when Gosalyn was seized. He has proved to be a competent and loving father, one who has been jumping through hoops that, in my opinion, were unnecessary."
Through the hawk's speech, the judge was already raising his hand to declare he had heard enough. "Before I take your movement into consideration, I'd like to hear what DCF recommends."
Gosalyn's heart thumped. She looked to Charity who was smiling. It sounded as if things were going well. She was going to go home. This was just one big nightmare.
Natalie stood up. "It is true that Mr. Mallard was working and following through with all requests from Gosalyn's previous social worker, but Gosalyn wasn't taken away from her home because of a minor case of neglect. Evidence of a disturbing nature was given to us by an anonymous source showing that Gosalyn's well-being was in danger and that her father was a major factor in the endangerment and abuse of Gosalyn Mallard."
"What the—" Charity whispered, and Gosalyn could sense her body tensing beside her.
"Because of this, it is DCF's wishes and suggestion that Gosalyn Mallard be removed from her father's custody until such a time that we can be certain he is a fit parent," Natalie finished, her voice as sharp as a knife.
"What just happened?" Gosalyn whispered, grabbing Charity's arm.
Charity didn't answer. Her face was twisted in anger as she glared at Natalie's back.
Glancing at the other side of the room, Gosalyn saw her father whispering to his lawyer, his face textured in worry lines.
"I find that DCF's suggestion to be fair and in the best interest of the child," Judge Everheart said. "Gosalyn Mallard shall remain in DCF custody with a foster family until this court determines under what conditions shall be met for her to be returned to her father if ever. I will hear DCF's arguments the next time we meet. Court is dismissed." His gavel fell like a guillotine.
(Author's notes: Just to clarify, I have never been to court (except that time when my dogs kept getting out and they brought the dogcatcher to my doorstep), so most of my information is based off of research and television. I've tried to keep things accurate and I'll admit that the court scenes aren't perfect, but I still hope they are believable.)
