Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Fine. Have it your way, little girl.” I left her in one of the small interrogation rooms and made one more phone call, because I really wanted to help this kid. No matter how difficult she made it.
Ten minutes later, Mara flew into the police station with worried eyes and out of breath. “Where is she?”
“I’m fine, Mara. The Sheriff didn’t put me in the clink or anything. Not yet, anyway.” Mara wrapped her in a big hug and squeezed hard. “Seriously, I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.” Lonnie pretended to be tough about it, but I saw the way she leaned into the hug and squeezed her eyes shut like she could soak up Mara’s concern.
“Where have you been? Have you been eating? Going to class?”
“Yes, we’ve been eating lots of pizza and burgers. No to going to class.” Lonnie bit back a grin and shook her head. “How much trouble am I in?”
Two sets of eyes turned to me and I sighed. “That depends on you.”
“Can I take her home?” Mara looked so hopeful that I hated to tell her no, but I had to.
“I can’t allow that, Mara. She’s a minor with foster parents. They haven’t answered or called me back so I had to put in a call to social services. A social worker will be here…at some point.”
Mara sucked in a breath and fisted her hands on her hips, eyes blazing anger my way. “You’re letting her go into the system, Xander? Really?”
“What else should I do, Mara?”
“I don’t know, Sheriff, maybe search for a little bit of compassion. You want to keep her here, in jail, while Kyle is tucked safely in bed. Right?”
“His folks came for him a while ago,” Lonnie confirmed.
Mara nodded. “So Lonnie stays in jail because the social worker is too busy to come by, but I can’t take her?” She shook her head, incredulous as if it was my fault that this was happening to the girl.
“I can’t break the rules for her.”
“But you can break them for the Jacobs family? They must have given a lot to your campaign.” She let out a loud, disgusted scoff, thankfully it was so late only two patrol officers were on duty.
“It is not my fault that his family gives a damn about him!” I knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words flew out of my mouth, but it was too late to take them back.
Mara gasped and took a step back as if I’d struck her. She nodded in that way that every man recognized as imminent trouble. “You heard it here, folks. The Sheriff only cares about the privileged, both financially and familially. Good to know.” She clapped, loud and obnoxious, on purpose no doubt. “Screw the rest, the poor and the loners, you all deserve to be locked up with the key buried under the jail!”
“I didn’t say that,” I growled. “Don’t put words in my mouth because you’re looking for another reason to be pissed at me.”
“Uh, this doesn’t sound like it has anything to do with me, so I’m just gonna-,”
“Stay right where you are,” Mara told her without looking back.
“Fine.” Lonnie grumbled to herself and dropped, loudly, into one of the uncomfortable metal chairs used for visitors to the Sheriff’s Department.
Mara pointed at me, rage burning in her eyes as she looked at me. “You said exactly that, but maybe you should ask yourself why it offends you because it sure as hell offends me.”
“Mara, come on. Be reasonable.”
“I am.” She turned and went to Lonnie, placing both hands on her bony shoulders. “I’ll find someone who can help you, I promise. Don’t say anything to him about anything. Got it?”
“I’m not the enemy,” I called out but Mara ignored me.
“Got it?” Mara asked the question again, louder to make sure she had the teen’s full attention.
Lonnie nodded. “I got it, Mara. Thank you.”
Mara
“Thanks for this, Joss. I really appreciate it.” I had a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel of Joss’ car as we drove along the interstate towards Tulip.
“No problem. I’m just glad you asked for help.” I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road, but I could feel the weight of Joss’ smile on the side of my face. “You’re starting to trust me,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“I do trust you, Joss. It’s not about trust, it’s just that telling anyone means I have to relive my past, and that’s something I try not to do. Ever.” Looking back was pointless because you couldn’t change the past, could only learn from it as you moved forward.
“Talking about it could also give the past less power over your future. It’s what I tell my students who think they can’t be more than their parents are.”