Stepping off, I plop both my hands atop my helmet, watching the criminal scramble and run, and the deputy let him.
My arms are jerked behind me and my helmet ripped off my head, catching an earring.
“You have the right to remain silent.”
As that comedian once said,But I don’t have the ability. “I’m Liam Murphy, the homeowner. I called in the B&E. And the suspicious person lurking before that. I was defending my home, and you let the actual perpetrator walk away.”
“You have the right to an attorney.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” My anger is rising, bubbling to the surface.
“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“Say cheese for the cameras.” With that, I shut up. When I sue the county and this deputy personally, it will all be available and public record. His incompetence, his refusal to listen or even remember the call from dispatch, his willingly letting criminals walk free.
My helmet remains in the grass of the back yard as the deputy walks me to the squad car, protecting my head from the door frame as blood trickles down my neck. “Please drop the garage door.”
He ignores that as well as he whisks me to the station.
Lorien
It’s rare when my head isn’t in the game at work. This is my safe space, the place I’m allowed to be me with no hesitancy, no parameters, no pretense. Just me, my science brain, and scads of data.
But today has been brutal. So much so, that I made my excuses and left.
Punctual, dependable Lorien Anderson left work because she couldn’t focus. This is alternate universe type stuff. I can’t say I’ve ever had a day like today. Sure, I could’ve stayed and milked the time. But my paid time off bucket is on the verge of beingcapped as it is. That won’t change by much with today’s four hours or the day I take off next weekend for Strider’s thing.
Speaking of, I owe him a call. I’m about to dial him when my phone rings. My phone never rings. Mom and Dad call every other Sunday night. Maybe a telemarketer here and there, but real people? Nope.
The display shows a local number. I’m cautious, but curious.
“Hello?”
“Lorien? It’s Ayla.”
Okay. “Hi, Ayla. How are you?”
“Have you seen Liam?”
“No. Why?”
“He was supposed to come over this morning.” The clock shows it’s after one in the afternoon. “It’s not like him to no show. And he’s not answering his phone.”
My gut twists. “I haven’t seen him since last night. Any chance he overslept?”
Her voice drops and worry laces her tone. “I don’t think so. I was going to drive by your house, but… Well, Christian is protective and now’s not the time to go all Destiny’s Child on him.”
“Huh?”
“It’s an old song from thatCharlie’s Angelsmovie. Never mind.”
“No, I mean I got it, but why’s he overbearing?”
“Oh, he’s always overbearing. That’s his middle name. It’s the constant worrying that gets me.”
“I’m driving home now. I can let you know when I get there.”
“Please do. And if anything?—”
