My wife and I strolled along hand in hand. It wasn't often we took a break from our four kids to enjoy one another. We walked past the local movie theater, and I waved to some people I knew. This is the beauty of living in a small town; you know at least half the people you run into.

"Hey Mike, can I talk to you a minute?" a voice called from behind me. I recognized Gary's voice. Our local social worker, he attended our church and we'd collaborated many times.

"What's up, Gary?"

"Has Steve come to talk to you?"

"No. I haven't spoken to him for weeks."

Gary paused. Internal alarm bells began sounding as I watched his tremulous expression. Obviously he wanted to say something serious but didn't know how.

"Is Steve in trouble, Gary?"

"He sure is! I mean, this is really big, Mike." My wife looked back at us a few paces behind her. Gary noticed her and nodded a greeting. Then he drew me close. "He's been charged with sexually abusing his foster daughter-ten separate incidents. He could be put away ...