Glancing at Gena over my shoulder, I replied, “Make the call.”
Gena frowned. She knew exactly which phone call I was talking about. Speed dial number three would ring the Child Protective Services. “Are you sure?” she asked.
I understood her hesitation. Our goal was to strengthen families, not to tear them apart. Calling CPS was a last resort, and with only four days before Christmas they’d be slow to place Toby and even slower to return him to his mom. That is, if they decided she should have him back. And, what if this was all just a big misunderstanding that Sheila could clear up quickly? Maybe she had some excellent reason for sending a drunk, most likely abusive douchebag to pick up her four-year-old son. Of course, we’d know for sure if she’d answer our calls or update her emergency contact sheet.
All I knew for sure was that we were twenty-seven minutes past closing on a Friday evening, and we had a duty to protect our children. Sometimes that duty came at a high price.
“Positive,” I replied.
Resolve settled over Gena’s features as she ducked back into my office.
Thankful for her compliance, I turned my attention back to Larry. He must have grown bored with the wallet-flipping game because he was trying to pry his credit card out of its pocket. I almost corrected him, but caught myself. If he wanted to extend this simple task, who was I to hurry him along? Trying not to breathe, I waited until he finally tugged it free and offered it to me.
“That’s your credit card, Larry. I need your driver’s license, please.” And a Breathalyzer because I really wanted to know how drunk he was. Hell, I felt like I was getting drunk from his fumes. Was contact drunkenness a thing?
“Fuck,” he replied, stuffing the card back into his wallet before showing me the plastic sleeve that held his license.
“I can’t read it,” I lied. “I need you to pull it out.”
He started to do that, and then paused giving me the side-eye. Suspicion darkened his irises and drew his lips into a hard line. “Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” he asked.
I absolutely was, but the sudden dangerous glint in his eyes made me realize that I had probably overestimated how far I could push him. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and my mind screamed warnings at me. There was a reason Toby was afraid of this man, and in that moment I knew I should be, too.
“Of course not,” I replied, easing a step back. “It’s school policy to verify identity before releasing a student.” Words. Pretty, official words. They swirled around in my head before pouring out of my mouth in a desperate attempt to diffuse the situation.
“Did you tell her to call the cops?” he asked, his voice deeper and darker than it had been before.
“No.” I shook my head, taking another step back. I could vaguely hear sirens in the distance, but that wasn’t unusual. Nestled deep in the High Point Neighborhood, police sirens were basically white noise that nobody knew how to turn off. They rarely made it into the neighborhood, though. People in High Point didn’t call the cops.
“Why would I do that?”
Larry sprung at me, surprisingly fast for someone who was still slurring his words. His fingers brushed the front of my shirt as I flung myself backward and crouched low, preparing to plant my size seven shoe right in his family jewels if he came at me again. But I didn’t need to defend myself. In a blur of motion, Larry’s hand was whipped around his body and he was shoved to the floor. Face to the laminate, his eyes bugged out as he glared at me with Blade perched on top of him.
That’s when the police finally barged in, announcing themselves as they spanned out to check the room.
“You lying little bitch,” Larry spat.
Blade dug his knee into Larry’s back. “You, my friend, need to learn how to speak to a lady.”
“She didn’t call the cops, asshole,” Link said, standing beside me. “I did.”
