“Nah. When it comes to anything that might make me look bad to you, most times, no one says anything to me about it. I’ve told them to never put me in any kind of conflict with you or school.”
“They don’t give you a hard time about your dad being the principal, do they?”
“Not like they did about my dad’s infamously difficult AP Language course and his inhuman expectations for studentsgoing into the trades and being forced to take readThe Scarlet Letter, a book that means nothing because most of them have a different baby daddy than who their mother is married to.” Ezra shuddered. “Really, Dad? Can’t you keep them from making us read that crap? It’s no longer applicable to us.”
“I would say it’s more applicable than ever, considering the baby daddy situation.”
“Whatever.” The teen turned and headed to the hallway. “See you after practice!”
When he could no longer hear his son’s whistle from inside the main office confines, he sat back down, this time facing his computer, ready to dig back into his endless emails. He’d been at it barely two minutes when he heard two sharp knocks on the metal doorframe. Officer Hookstead.
Despite the interruption, he couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face as he noticed her blonde hair in its tight French braid, perfectly sprayed back so that no hair was out of place. Then he did a quick survey of her black Tejeda Springs polo, which was covered up by her bulletproof vest, tan cargo pants, and black boots. She looked the part of a tomboy, but he could envision the “girly-girl” behind the gear, and not for the first time, he wished they didn’t work together.
When she shifted so her arms were pressed outward to the doorjambs, looking as if she were casually holding the doorway up, his eyes were immediately drawn to the yellow stun gun on her hip, as well as the regular gun sitting just behind it. He hated that times had come to this, where officers were necessary in schools, let alone ones with guns. However, he also knew that he’d take the extra layer of security.
“Got a minute, Dr. Vaughn?”
“Sure, come on in.”
She entered his office, closed the door behind her, and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
“So, I did some digging around on Kennedy.”
He sat back, his forearms resting lightly on the arms of his chair, and waited for what he was sure was going to be news he didn’t want.
“The first thing I did was run a check on her father. Lieutenant Axton, the officer from the accident, did me a solid, so if he ever asks for a favor, give it to him.”
Lucas nodded his head.
“Paul Dixon has a long string of priors. Mostly disturbing the peace situations, public intoxication, as you thought. There have been three OWIs—the last of those, he did two years in jail, released early for good behavior. His wife left him on the third offense. That was three years ago in October.”
“Hmm… right around the time he got the no trespass for the high school. Interesting.”
“Isn’t it? Shortly after that was when CPS was called, and he brandished the weapon when police and the agent came to his door to check on the kids.”
“How did he not end up in jail again? That had to violate his parole.”
“Wasn’t real. Officers thought it was a weapon, but upon contact, discovered it was a toy. He did a few days in jail, but the judge let him off since he was the only family the kids had. Not sure I agree with that choice, but…”
He tapped his fingers on the end of the chair arms. “And mom didn’t take the kids with her after all that? Didn’t come back and claim them?”
“No. She left the two kids with Paul’s mother, and no one knows where she is. The day he left jail, he picked them up, then his parents went ‘no contact’ with their son and moved to Florida.”
“Wow. They didn’t try to take custody of the kids either?”
“Again… no. However, the parents are pretty advanced in age.”
“No other family that would take them in?”
“According to CPS, the grandparents were it. He was informed that if he earned another OWI, the kids would be taken from him and put into the system, but he doesn’t have a license, and he doesn’t own a car, so they haven’t had to follow through on that threat.”
He grunted. “So where does this leave us?”
“I filed a report with CPS since we’re mandatory reporters. It’s hearsay, and there’s no physical evidence, so I doubt it will launch an actual investigation, but a file has been started.”
Disgruntled, he said, “I filed as well. Even if they did investigate, those take forever.”
She nodded. “System is overworked and understaffed. They do their best, but the legal aspects slow down report times, and there aren’t enough foster families. There definitely aren’t enough good ones.
