“When your parents divorced, you took your mother’s side, rejecting yourfather.”
Heck yeah, Idid.
“And now he feels the need to even thescore.”
London flattened his palm against the steel tabletop. The cold was enough to ground his thoughts, and he remembered what his mom had told him the day after the break-in. “If I can’t hurt you, I’ll hurt something you care about,” hemuttered.
“Excuse me?” Bullon leaned over the edge of thetable.
London pressed down and pulled his hands back, making a high-pitched whistling noise. “If he can’t hurt me, then he goes after mymom.”
Bullon spun the pen around his thumb again. “Exactly. That’s why I think you should stay in town. If you’re here, he doesn’t look for anothertarget.”
London cursed under his breath. “I can’t stay in town forever.” His job wasn’t conducive to being ahomebody.
“He’s never interfered with football. Football’s one thing he seems torespect.”
“Yep—sounds about right.” London pounded his fists on thetable.
“I understand you’re upset. This isn’t easy tohear.”
“No—it makes perfect sense. Which is why this situation sucks.” He gave the confused officer a rueful smile. “I have a date in Times Square tomorrownight.”
“You’ll have to postpone.” Bullon leaned back in his chair, at ease. Of course he was at ease; he wasn’t the one standing at the starting line with Maia and having the race calledoff.
London’s stomach seized up. In the hospital, Maia had said that they’d had their chance at love and blown it. What if …? No, there was no way he could believe they were done. Second chances were real—they happened all the time in life, and this was his second chance. He wasn’t going to let it slip away so easily, nor was he going to let his father damage hislife.
Maia had already expressed concern about having missed their window. If he didn’t show tomorrow, she’d take it as a sign that she was right about the two of them. He’d worked so hard for this chance with her; he wasn’t about to let his dad ruin it forhim.
Which was why he couldn’t tell Maia how crazy his father had become over the years. She was already looking for reasons they couldn’t be together. He couldn’t hand her one by unloading his baggage—especially over the phone. He needed to keep his dad in theshadows.
“When you find my dad, hold on to him. I’m going to press charges.” He curled his fingers around hisknees.
Bullon shrugged. “We already have the warrant for vandalizing the flowershop.”
London smacked his hand on the table, frustrated at the officer’s lack of interest. “He’ll post bail before the night’sover.”
“Unless you have somethingstronger…”
“How’s child abuse and attempted murder?” The words slid out of his mouth like an ice cube, thick and hard and too fast tocontrol.
Bullon’s mouth dropped open. In the mental cloud of barely controlled rage, a stadium of fear, and shock, London thought Bullon’s mouth was extremely small compared to the rest ofhim.
London’s whole frame shook. He felt small and unsure and afraid his dad would walk through the door, pick him up by his shirt front, and haul him home for a “talk.” He swiped at the sweat riveting down hisneck.
Bullon worked his mouth several times as if it had gone dry and he desperately needed a drink. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and apologetic. “The statute of limitations on child abuse cases in Texas is two years after your eighteenthbirthday.”
London gulped. “I’m too late.” In the back of his head he believed he would one day have justice, that he’d see his dad suffer for what he’d done to a child—to him. He hadn’t even thought about a time limit. There shouldn’t be a time limit on child abuse. The child who’d been beaten was still inside of him, still battered and bruised and confused and crying out for help. “That sucks!” He smacked his fist on the table, making Bullon drop hispen.
Bullon scrambled after it. “It does. It certainly does.” He cleared his throat. “But, there is not a statute of limitations on attempted murder. Did your dad …” He trailed off, leaving the horrible, unspoken question to hover over the steeltabletop.
“Not me—Mom.” London had tried so hard to forget. Everything had fallen apart for him the morning of prom. His dad had almost killed his mom, and London’s kidneys were bruised and his rib cracked. He’d gone to prom, despite the damage, and lost Maia. That was the single worst day of his entire life, and it was still messing withhim.
Bullon straightened. “Will she sign astatement?”
London scratched his chin as he thought. The room wasn’t as hot as it had been moments ago when he thought of taking the stand and recounting the horrible ways his father hadinspiredhim to be better at football, to run faster, to think smarter, to take a hit and keep oncoming.
Well, he was going to take the lesson and throw it right back in his dad’s face. It was time to switch from defense tooffense.
