Page 17 of More Than a Hero (Baytown Heroes #12)

Angie looked up from behind her desk as Maxine, one of her social workers, strolled in, her sharp gaze filled with curiosity.

"So," Maxine said, settling into the chair across from her. "How’s your new Adopt-a-Grandparent program going?"

Angie smiled, leaning back slightly in her chair. "Well, it's only been two weeks, so we’ve only had two full group meetings, but I think it’s going well."

Maxine arched a brow, grinning. "And the kids? No disasters?"

Angie laughed, shaking her head. "The first Thursday night, when Pete, Richard, and I had everybody together for the first time, I honestly thought it was going to be a disaster.

The kids looked completely out of their element—awkward, uncertain, and maybe even a little intimidated.

And a few of my seniors, who I know could hold a conversation with a brick wall, just sat there looking bewildered. "

Maxine chuckled, crossing her legs as she relaxed into her seat. "How did you get things moving?"

Angie leaned forward, resting her forearms on the desk.

"Pete and I had spent the weekend before that first meeting going over each youth and each senior, figuring out who might be the best match. Once we got past the introductions that night, we had them sit with their assigned grandparent. That’s when things started to shift. "

Maxine nodded thoughtfully. "Was it just the group setting that made it so awkward?"

"I think so. But we were careful with our pairings. We didn’t put a shy kid with a shy senior.

And we looked at physical abilities too.

Pete has a few older boys, already thirteen, and two of them are big, strong, athletic types.

We paired them with older men who are a little more frail, one of whom was recently diagnosed with early-stage Parkinson’s.

That way, they could help without making their match feel incapable. "

"And what about the couples?"

Angie’s eyes warmed. "A few of the kids in Pete’s group had never had grandparents in their lives at all.

We thought those boys would do well with our senior couples.

The women are wonderful cooks, but they’re also strong, independent, and very forward-thinking.

We figured they’d be great at bringing the kids out of their shells.

The men can be excellent role models, as well as Pete and the other mentor, Richard. "

"And?" Maxine pressed, leaning in. "Did they actually start talking to each other? Or was it still like pulling teeth?"

Angie grinned. "Oh, it got even better this past week. To get them comfortable, we gave them an assignment. We told them that next week, they’ll be taking a trip to the grocery store together.

The kids sat down with their seniors to help them create shopping lists, and that’s when things really loosened up.

The seniors did an amazing job of including the kids, asking them what they would like to get from the store. "

Maxine’s smile softened. "Sounds like you’ve got something really special happening here."

Angie exhaled, her heart full. "Yeah," she murmured, a warmth spreading through her chest. "I think we do."

Angie’s phone rang just as Maxine stood, tossing her a knowing look and a small wave before slipping out of the office.

“Angie Brown speaking?—”

“Angie! It’s Sylvia.” The voice on the other end was tight with urgency. “I just had one of our Meals on Wheels volunteers try to drop off a meal for Mr. Daniels—Tom Daniels. He lives alone over on Seaport Way.”

Immediately, Angie’s stomach tightened. “I know Mr. Daniels. What’s wrong?”

“No one answered the door,” Sylvia said. “She knocked, called his name—nothing. But two days ago, he answered. She’s worried, and so am I. I’m stuck at the dentist this morning. Can you check on him?”

Angie’s gaze flicked to her planner, where her day was mapped out in a dozen scribbled notes. But this wasn’t something to delay.

“I’m on it,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll call for a deputy to meet me for a wellness check.”

“Thank you, Angie. I’ll be at the office as soon as I can.”

Hanging up, she quickly jotted down Mr. Daniels’s phone number on a sticky note, stuffing it into her purse as she grabbed her jacket off the chair.

On her way out, she called out to the receptionist, “I’m heading to Seaport Way for a wellness check on Tom Daniels.

Push the team meeting back until I return and send out an email to let everyone know. ”

The drive took nearly twenty minutes, each mile tightening the knot in her stomach. She called the sheriff’s office en route, requesting a deputy to meet her there. As she pulled up to the small, aging house, a patrol car arrived right behind her.

A tall, broad-shouldered deputy stepped out, adjusting his belt as he approached. She didn’t recognize him.

“I’m Angie Brown with the Eastern Shore Area Agency on Aging,” she introduced herself. “Meals on Wheels reported that Mr. Daniels isn’t answering the door.”

“I’m Deputy Krukowski,” he said with a curt nod. “I’ll check it out.”

They walked together up the short concrete path. The house had the tired look of a home that had stood for decades, its white paint peeling in places, the front stoop slightly uneven. The deputy knocked firmly, calling out, “Mr. Daniels! Sheriff’s office! Can you come to the door?”

Silence.

Angie stepped to the side, cupping her hands against the window as she tried to peer in. The lace curtains blocked most of her view, but she saw no movement and no shadow. No sign of life stirred inside.

She pulled out her phone and dialed his number, listening as it rang until finally, voicemail picked up.

“No answer,” she murmured, her unease growing.

“Does he have any family we can call?” the deputy asked.

She shook her head. “Not that I know of. Meals on Wheels delivered a meal two days ago, and he was here then.”

A voice called from across the street. “What’s going on?”

Angie turned as a woman jogged toward them, her blond ponytail swaying.

The deputy intercepted her. “Who are you, ma’am?”

“Susan Barnes. I live right across the street.”

“Ms. Barnes, have you seen Mr. Daniels today or yesterday?”

“I saw him yesterday,” she confirmed. “He came out to get his mail. I’d just picked up my kids from school. We waved at each other.”

“But not today?”

She shook her head. “No, not today.”

The deputy exchanged a glance with Angie, before turning back to her. “Thank you, ma’am”

“We need to get inside,” she said, her voice firm.

“I agree.” Krukowski glanced toward the back of the house. “Let me check if there’s an open door.”

As he disappeared around the corner, Angie wrapped her arms around herself, the chilly day settling deep into her bones. A sick feeling had started in her stomach, one she knew too well.

A minute later, Krukowski returned, shaking his head.

“Locked up tight.” He turned to his partner, who had just pulled up.

The two spoke quietly before Krukowski called out again, then, with a firm kick, he sent the aging wooden door splintering open.

The crack of the frame giving way echoed through the air.

Angie followed as the deputy stepped inside, calling out his identification. The house was still, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and something else—something heavier.

No sign of him in the living room. Not in the kitchen. And then… a sharp inhale escaped Angie’s lips as she stepped toward the bedroom and saw him.

Tom Daniels lay sprawled on the floor beside his bed, unmoving. She started toward him, but Krukowski held out an arm, his voice low but firm. “Stay back, ma’am. Don’t touch anything.”

Angie stopped short, pressing a fist to her chest, her breath shaky. “I’m sorry. I know better. It’s just—” She swallowed thickly. “This isn’t my first time on a wellness check that turned out like this.”

The deputy nodded, his expression grim. “It’s always a gut punch.”

His partner radioed for an ambulance as Krukowski knelt, pressing his fingers to Tom’s neck. A few seconds later, he twisted back, meeting Angie’s eyes. Slowly, he shook his head.

She closed her eyes, the ache in her chest growing stronger.

There were so many rewards in her work, but there was always this, too—the moments that shattered her heart a little more each time. She turned and walked back toward the living room, needing space to breathe.

The sound of approaching vehicles signaled the arrival of more responders. She turned as Cora eventually arrived and stepped inside, already suited up in PPE.

“Hey, Angie,” Cora greeted gently. “Did you find him?”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “Meals on Wheels called when he didn’t answer the door. The deputy and I went in together.”

Cora placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I’m glad you weren’t alone.”

Angie nodded, knowing there was nothing more she could do. She slipped outside, rubbing at her temples. The weight of the day pressed down on her—grief, frustration, and exhaustion all wrapped into one unbearable mass.

She gave Krukowski her contact information before making her way back to her car, weaving carefully through the growing number of official vehicles. As she pulled onto the road, she sighed heavily, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes.

By the time she made it back to her office, the fire in her joints was undeniable. The deep, gnawing ache settled into her fingers, her wrists, her hips, even her toes—each movement a reminder that her medication was no longer keeping up.

She rescheduled her work, grateful to avoid any more conversations. The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork, reports, and a trip to the county building to drop off documents. Every step sent pain radiating through her body.

By the time she finally drove home, the ache had deepened to a sharp, burning throb. Tears pricked her eyes—not just from the physical pain but from the sheer emotional weight of the day.

The house next door was empty when she arrived since her grandparents were still at their church meeting. She felt a sense of relief because she didn’t have the energy to pretend she was fine.

Stripping down, she ran a bath as hot as she could stand, sinking into the water with a sigh, letting the heat ease into her swollen joints. But even as her body relaxed, her mind remained heavy.

She needed to call her rheumatologist in the morning. She needed to have her medication re-evaluated. She needed rest.

After microwaving leftovers and eating straight from the container on her couch, she was startled at the knock on her door. It was too early for her grandparents to be home. She peeked out the security hole. Pete.

She threw open the door, not caring that she was in old sweatpants and a worn T-shirt. “Hey,” she murmured, finding it hard to speak when all she could think of was how grateful she was that he had decided to surprise her with a visit.

There was a pause, then his deep, steady voice. “Long day?”

A lump formed in her throat. “Yeah.” She tilted her head. “Do you know?”

Another pause. He quietly answered, “Cora called Jeremy.”

She pressed her lips together, not trusting herself to speak but nodding her understanding.

“You want to talk about it, Angie? I’m here for whatever you need.”

And just like that, the tears she had been holding back all day threatened to spill over.