“Will he get charged?”
“No, I’m just going there to pick him up. And find out what the fuck is going on.” I roll my palms over the steering wheel. “There’s a problem with his foster situation, and I’m not sure what we’re going to do about it.”
“I know you can work it out.”
I give him a wry smile. While I appreciate the confidence, it’s not something I deal with on a daily basis. Even when childrenare part of the equation in a homicide—either children left behind or other relatives—I don’t deal with that side of it, and I don’t have any contacts that do. I’ll need to make a few calls. Maybe go and see the parents myself.
Do some kind of damage control.
Chapter fifteen
Grady
Iknowthemanstationing the front desk, so we get waved through without having to show a badge and go through a song and dance that wastes time and puts me in a bad mood.
Lake follows silently behind me, head swivelling, taking in the station I’m leading him through.
“This is fascinating,” he muses, lingering in doorways to look inside open offices. It’s a smaller precinct than the one I work out of, the detectives and uniformed cops all in the same area.
“What is?” I ask, searching the open space for Emmett and our wayward teenager.
“Seeing a different station. I like yours better.”
So do I, but they’re all functional in their own way. I worked at a few before making detective, and even before I began working for Riley. I prefer my current working environment. Even more now without Gideon putting marshmallows in coffee anymore. He’s someone else’s problem now.
The other Riley—somehow just as much a pain in my ass—is easy to spot, slouching in a chair in front of a random desk, Emmett behind it. Riley’s arms are crossed over his chest, a petulant, irritated look on his face. Great. This is going to be loads of fun. I can’t decide if I’d prefer the torture of a meeting all about wedding preparations or this.
“You came,” he says, with an insulting amount of surprise in his tone. Did he think I’d leave him here?
“Get up.”
He stands immediately, at least. He’s already in a bad mood, I’m already in a bad mood, we don’t need to make it worse. “Look, I just—”
“No.” I’m not discussing this here. It won’t end well for either of us. “Emmett, do you have the report?”
Emmett hands it over without argument, though the small smirk on his face makes me want to get violent. Ignoring him, I flip it over, scanning the contents. What little there is. Of course, Riley chose to stay silent, the statement section conspicuously empty. With a sigh, I hand it back.
“We good here?”
“Yeah, he’s all yours.”
“If there’s any follow-up, call me.” Doesn’t sound like there’s any point in calling the foster parents at this stage. “We’re leaving,” I say to Riley. “Don’t open your mouth, I don’t want to hear a word out of you right now.”
“You’re not even gonna—”
“Nope. Car’s out the front. Move.”
Riley rolls his eyes, but he does as he’s told, stiffly walking in front of Lake, who gives me an amused grin. I’m calling it a win. Especially since it’ll probably be the last one this afternoon.
No one speaks as we get into the car, or when I turn into traffic, making a U-turn to head home.
“I heard what they said about me,” Riley says eventually from the back seat. He’s not looking at me when I glance in the rearview mirror; he’s staring intently out the window.
Teenagers have the ears of a hawk, only when they want to. I’d hoped this wouldn’t be one of those cases. “You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s not like I didn’t already know it; they’re not subtle.”
“Are they abusive to you?” I ask sharply. If they are, I’m going to have a whole other conversation with them that they won’t enjoy at all.
