Page 19 of Out Of A Fix

He was getting worked up. “Can you stop saying that?”

“Who is the person?”

“Someone named Shelly.”

“You’re makin’ this shit up.”

“She’s supposed to be a friend of the mother.”

“The mother who left her kids?”

“Again, without living in her skin, you don’t know what went down.”

“How did you get like this?”

“Through years of doing exactly what you’re doing now and getting my ass handed to me because I was quick to judge, didn’t listen, and didn’t ask any questions.”

Long sigh from him. “I forget sometimes that you’re a grown-up.”

I chuckled. “Do me a favor and hold down the fort until I get back, will ya?”

“Of course, and I’ll do some digging on this Shelly and get back to you.”

“Thank you,” I said, and hung up.

It was then time to step inside to see what condition Luke Duchesne’s oldest was in. I hoped the kid’s luck was better than mine.

The Eena police station was small. There was a hallway, an office, and a counter. When I reached it, a man sitting at the desk asked how he could help me. The nameplate on the desk said April Bell, and since he didn’t look like an April, I was thinking their receptionist was off on Sundays.

“I’m Griffin Duchesne’s guardian, and I’m here to pick him up.”

He only stared at me.

I could feel myself scowling. “Sir? Did you not hear me?”

Standing abruptly, he came around his desk and was quickly at the counter. His nametag read Benning. “Chief Wilson left orders that until Luke Duchesne showed up, Griffin wasn’t supposed to go anywhere.”

I nodded. “Well, I’m the kid’s guardian—my colleague forwarded you the legal documentation—so if you don’t produce Griffin right now, I will be calling the FBI and the state police and report you for kidnapping.”

“I—”

“Now,” I said, using my master sergeant tone that was low and guttural and even Jared Colter told me was a bit scary and could I please not.

Benning left, rushing down the hall, and moments later another officer—Daniels—came into the room.

“Are you Nash Miller from Torus Intercession?”

“I am. I have ID, and so you know, I’m carrying because I have a license to do so. If you’d like to come check my credentials, I can pull them for you.”

“Yes, please,” Daniels replied, moving to reach me. He had a copy of the information Shaw sent, and he matched what I handed him to what had been emailed over. It took longer than I would have liked, but he was being thorough.

When he smiled and left, I leaned on the counter, waiting, and after about five minutes, out walked a bloodied Griffin Duchesne. His sweater was covered in dirt, grass, and traces of blood, and his nose might have been broken. There was a cut over his right eye that I suspected—along with his nose—was responsible for most of the blood. As soon as he was close, I lifted my phone and took several pictures of him. When Daniels opened the pass-through for him, they stopped him so they could take off the handcuffs. I got shots of that before they were removed.

“Cuffs? You don’t think that’s overkill?” I asked, not expecting an answer, taking hold of Griffin’s arm and easing him toward me.

“Wait, we need you to sign⁠—”

“I’m not signing anything,” I stated, making a call. “And you will be hearing from the chief of police in Newcastle, as well as my lawyer. I hope you all enjoyed being law enforcement officers, because you can’t hurt a child and get away with it.”