“I’m here to speak with Lucas Hays. That’s all I want. I’m not here to arrest him or anything. I just have a few questions I want to ask him.”
The man’s chest puffs out as he tips his chin upward and glares with beady, glassy eyes. “What do you want with my grandson?”
“His vehicle was seen dropping off an abandoned infant at the police station in Brookhaven.” Yes, it’s a bit of an exaggeration, but if the grandfather knows what happened, I’m hoping to get a reaction from him.
“I did no such thing.” The door behind the man bursts open where Lucas was apparently eavesdropping. He brushes past his grandfather and pins me with a stare that only the foolish or the young can get away with.
The kid’s wearing low slung jeans with holes in the knees and a faded black T-shirt. He looks older than his driver’s license photo which was taken last year. Living in his neighborhood isn’t an easy life. “I was not parked at the police station in Brookhaven, and I told the Chief the same thing when he called.”
“You’re bordering on harassment here.” His grandfather crosses his arms over his chest, covering his stained white T-shirt and accentuating his beer gut. His feet are spread wide, making him look tough even though he’s wearing black jogging shorts, white socks pulled up to his calves, and fake crocs. There’s a jagged scar running down his cheek indicating that he’s lived an even rougher life than his grandson.
“I’m just asking questions. The vehicle in question was the same make and model as yours–”
“I was not at the police station.” Heat creeps up his face as his anger takes over. “I don’t know who told you it was, but they’re lying.” He clutches his grandfather’s upper arm. “Grandfather, you’ve got to believe me.”
“I do, son.” The man’s eyes are soft as he pats his grandson’s hand. Luckily, the dog stopped its incessant barking and laid down by the grandfather’s feet.
The next-door neighbor window-watcher slides the curtain back out of the way, exposing a bare arm, but I can’t make anything else out.
“Do you think we can go inside for a minute?” A car backfires down the street.
“You can say whatever you have to say out here. I don’t invite no cops inside my house. I’m not about to get set up like that by no fucking cop.” At the sharp tone of Lucas’s voice, the dog starts in again.
“Fine.” I raise my hands in surrender as the window-watcher’s front door slams open, causing it to bang against the patchwork-colored siding.
“Everything okay over there?” The bare-chested man with prison ink covered arms and a red welted scab across his collarbone strides to one of the poles holding up the porch roof and leans against it.
“Yes, man.” The grandfather waves his hand dismissively at him. “We’re good. The pig is about to leave. He has no business here.”
It’s time to go before anything goes bad. “Listen, I only have a couple of questions. As I said, someone dropped off a baby at the police station–”
“I wasn’t parked at the police station.” The young kid frowns while sticking out his chin. “And isn’t this a safe haven state, anyway?”
“Yes, it is, but we don’t know who the mother is so we can’t verify that she gave the baby up willingly. Someone could’ve stolen the baby from the mother and taken it to the police.”
“Why would someone do that? That’s stupid. Of course, the mother would know. Didn’t you find a note?”
“Son, shut up.” The grandfather’s face is red with anger as he grabs his grandson’s arm and drags him behind him. “We’ve answered enough of your questions. You should leave.”
The fact that he’s been adamant he didn’t park at the police station and knows that there was a note is evidence that he was the one who dropped off the baby. Not evidence that I can take to court, but enough to let us know, we’re on the right track.
But we still don’t know who the mother is. It could be someone from this neighborhood just as easily as Mackenzie Whitlock. And without knowing who the baby belongs to; we can’t verify that the child is free for adoption.
“I think it would be better if Lucas answered the rest of my questions.”
“Do you have a search warrant?” Nosy neighbor pipes up with his barrel chest and curled fists. Clearly, the man has gone toe to toe with the police on more than one occasion.
“No, you know I don’t.” I stiffen my spine while continuing to keep my knees loosened as the neighbor shoves off the pole and marches toward his front steps.
There’s no point in sticking around. I won’t get anything else out of them today. They’ve closed ranks and unless I arrest him, which I don’t have enough evidence or jurisdiction to do, I’m pissing in the wind.
I’ve seen this look on bulled up suspects in the past. The same dumb look that leads to fifteen-year sentences rather than a five-year sentence if the suspect would’ve budged.
The baby is safe and in the hospital. And there’ve not been any calls in the surrounding areas for a missing infant. So, we’ll fight another day.
Chapter Forty-One
Emily
