Chapter 3 - The Cold System of Texas
By 2:00 AM, the administrative wing of the DFW Public Safety Office was silent except for the hum of an old vending machine and the clatter of a night-shift clerk typing on an old mechanical keyboard.
Inside a small, fluorescent-lit interview room, Maisie and Theo sat side by side on a vinyl sofa.
Garrett had bought two warm boxes of chicken tenders and two juice boxes from an open concourse diner. Theo had eaten half a tender before dropping his head back onto Garrett’s folded coat, fast asleep. Maisie sat awake, her legs dangling, methodically tearing a paper napkin into tiny, perfect squares.
Garrett sat on a folding chair across from them, while Dean stood by the door, speaking in hushed tones to a woman named Sandra Hayes.
Sandra was forty-five, wearing an oversized corduroy blazer, carrying a thick battered accordion folder under her arm. She was an emergency intake caseworker for Child Protective Services in Tarrant County.
“Mr. Holloway,” Sandra said softly, stepping into the hallway and gesturing for Garrett to join her. “I’ve reviewed the documentation. The stepmother is currently being processed at the North Station booking facility. The prosecutor on call has already authorized two counts of abandonment and endangerment of a child—both third-degree felonies in Texas.”
“Good,” Garrett said flatly. “Where are they going tonight?”
Sandra sighed, pulling a blue ballpoint pen from her hair bun. “That’s the difficult part. It’s two in the morning on a Thursday. Our emergency shelter facilities in Fort Worth are completely at capacity due to the winter storm warning down in Austin. I’m going to have to place them in a temporary night-stay facility in Arlington.”
Garrett frowned. “What does 'night-stay facility' mean?”
“It means a group room with three bunk beds and an on-duty supervisor,” Sandra explained, her tone neutral, worn flat by twenty years of working in an underfunded system. “In the morning, we start the administrative search for extended family. The note mentioned an uncle in Texas?”
“The note said he refused to take them,” Garrett noted sharpely.
“We still have to verify that officially,” Sandra said, tapping her folder. “If the uncle refuses legal guardianship, they enter the Texas foster care system as emergency wards of the state. Because they are twins, we try to keep them together, but given their age and current bed shortages... I can't guarantee they won't be split into separate temporary homes by Friday afternoon.”
Garrett went completely still.
“Split them?” Garrett asked. His voice dropped an octave, the gravel in his chest grinding deep. “They just lost their father six months ago. Their stepmother left them at a gate like luggage. And your system’s solution is to put them in two different houses with strangers?”
“Mr. Holloway,” Sandra said defensively, lifting her chin. “I appreciate that you stopped that plane. Truly, what you did was extraordinary. But you are a stranger who happened to be at Gate 26. This is state business now. There are legal protocols, background checks, home studies—”
“I know what the protocols are,” Garrett interrupted cold. “I sit on the board of three children’s hospital foundations in Texas and North Carolina. I know exactly how underfunded your agency is.”
He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, took out a heavy gold-embossed business card, and pressed it into Sandra’s hand.
“My name is Garrett Holloway. I own Holloway Logistics, Holloway Real Estate Holdings, and four commercial livestock operations in Hill County. I have a six-bedroom residence in Southlake—fifteen minutes from this terminal.”
Sandra looked at the card, then up at Garrett’s eyes. “Mr. Holloway, you can't just take children home because you have a large house. You aren't a certified foster parent.”
“Dean,” Garrett said without looking back.
Dean stepped forward instantly, pulling a slim black tablet from his leather briefcase. “Ms. Hayes, Mr. Holloway’s legal team has already contacted Judge Richard Bradley—the senior presiding family court judge for Tarrant County. Judge Bradley is a personal friend of Mr. Holloway and a fellow trustee at Texas Christian University.”
Dean tapped the screen, displaying a signed digital document with an official court seal.
“This is an emergency temporary custody order, signed thirty minutes ago by Judge Bradley,” Dean said smoothly. “It grants Mr. Garrett Holloway provisional emergency guardianship of Theodore and Maisie Vance for a period of seventy-two hours, pending an expedited custody hearing on Monday morning. Mr. Holloway’s security team has already cleared background checks through the Department of Public Safety.”
Sandra stared at the tablet screen, then at Garrett. Her mouth opened slightly in pure administrative shock.
“You... you called a district judge at one in the morning?” Sandra stammered.
“I didn't want them sleeping on a vinyl sofa in an Arlington intake room,” Garrett said simply.
He turned back to the small glass window of the interview room. Inside, little Maisie had stopped tearing her napkin. She was looking through the glass at Garrett, her dark hazel eyes wide, holding her brother’s sleeping hand.
Garrett opened the door and walked inside.
He picked up his heavy wool coat, carefully wrapping it around sleeping Theo like a blanket, then lifted the thirty-pound boy into his left arm. Theo didn't wake up; he simply buried his small face into Garrett’s neck, his warm breath rhythmic against Garrett’s collar.
Garrett held out his right hand to Maisie.
“Come on, Maisie,” Garrett said softly. “Let’s go home.”
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Maisie looked at his large, calloused hand—a hand covered in fine scars from working on heavy machinery thirty years ago—and then looked up at his face. She didn't ask where they were going. She didn't ask about Brenda.
She simply slid her small, cool fingers into his palm and squeezed tight.
