Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28714 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
I mute the line so I can key up on the radio. "Dispatch to Unit 100. I have your suspect on the phone. He says he's afraid to come out and talk to you."
"10-4. I bet he is," Dillon says dryly. "Do your thing, Molly. We need him out of that house with his hands up. You can do it."
"10-4."
I unmute the phone. "Can you tell me your name?"
"Daryl."
"Okay, Daryl. I'm Molly. I'm going to talk you through this, all right? If you listen to what I say, I promise you, we'll all get through this. Does that sound good?"
"I…okay," he says. "But I don't want to go to jail."
"Well, I can't make you any promises, Daryl. If I could predict the future, I'd be a billionaire now and you'd be talking to someone way less cool than me," I murmur. "But I can tell you that I know the two cops at your door, and they're pretty good guys. One of them is a pain in my butt, but he's a really great cop. The other is a really great man. They won't hurt you. And they won't take you to jail if you didn't do anything wrong."
He's quiet for a minute. "W-what if I did do something wrong?"
"Well, I guess it depends on what you did," I say carefully, trying to let him talk himself out here. The lines are recording. Anything he says can be used. I don't want to lead him. "I mean, people jaywalk, speed, or litter, and don't go to jail, right?"
"I did something worse," he says. "I was mad at my dad so I…" His voice catches. "I've been breaking into houses and wrecking them. Stealing stuff."
Mad at his dad?
"Daryl, how old are you?"
"Sixteen," he whispers.
Crap. He's just a kid.
I mute the line and key up. "Unit 100, be advised, your suspect is sixteen."
"Uh, 10-9, dispatch?"
"Your suspect is sixteen years of age."
Dillon is silent a moment and then, "10-4. Good to know."
I unmute the line again. "You're right," I say calmly. "That is a bit worse than jaywalking. But did you hurt anyone, Daryl?"
"No. I w-wouldn't. I scared a lady this morning, though. S-she got home while I was still in her house," he admits.
Yeah, you little shit. That was me. You shaved twenty years off my life.
"I'm sorry about that," I tell him gently instead of admitting that I'm the one he scared. It won't solve anything for him to know. "Look, Daryl, I get it. I really do. My dad…well, he wasn't exactly father of the year material either. He was a cop like the two guys outside your door. But unlike them, he wasn't one of the good ones."
"Really?"
"Yeah." I take a steadying breath before continuing. "He slept around on my mom all the time. Broke her heart over and over again. Eventually, he checked out on me, too." I think guilt ate away at him after she died. He couldn't handle it, so he just stopped coming around. We talk maybe once or twice a year now.
Daryl is quiet for a moment. "My dad just left us," he says softly. "One day he was there and the next, he was just gone. He didn't even say goodbye. And now my mom cries all the time and I'm so angry and I just…I wanted to make someone else hurt like I'm hurting."
His voice breaks on the last word and my heart clenches painfully in my chest. I know that feeling all too well. The rage, the pain, the soul-deep ache of being abandoned by someone who is supposed to love you unconditionally.
"I know, Daryl. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel," I murmur soothingly. "And I'm so sorry you're going through this. You don't deserve it. No one does. But listen to me, okay? You and me? We owe it to ourselves to be better than the men who fathered us. To rise above and build a life that we can be proud of. One where we don't hurt innocent people just because we're hurting."
I pause, letting my words sink in. They hit me hard, too, because they're all too true. I was such a bitch to Easton, trying to punish him as if he was guilty of my dad's crimes. But it's not his price to pay. It's my father's…and mine.
"Being better starts with facing the things we've done wrong and owning up to them," I tell Daryl. "It's not easy, believe me I know. But it's so worth it in the end. Because that's how we break the cycle. That's how we become the good guys."
He's quiet for a long time and I hear him sniffling on the other end of the line. My own eyes are misty, and I blink rapidly to clear them. This poor kid. I know his anger. I know his pain. I've lived it. If I can help him, even just a little, then I owe it to him.