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Think.
Something.
Happened.
A thousand gruesome scenarios swarm my mind, and my chest literally aches.
I call him instantly.
Kip answers on the second ring. “Hey, we’re leaving in a sec. Had to finish protocol here.”
“What the hell happened?” Throwing off my bedsheet, I start aimlessly looking around the room for socks, only to realize I’m already wearing them. “Give me an address. I’m on my way.”
“No, stay put. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Address,” I demand, and I hear Kip sigh into the receiver. There’s buzz and chatter in the background, and I strain my ear to listen for June—Is she hurt? Crying? Sick?—but all I make out is muffled static. “Let me talk to June.”
“Brant, I promise you she’s okay. Whatever happened wasn’t serious—”
“Put her on the phone. Now.”
A purring of madness whispers in my ear, and I start pacing the bedroom. Hesitation lingers on the other end of the line, a fleeting pause, and then he says, “I’m sorry, but we need to head out. I’m on the clock. We’ll be there in ten, okay?”
“Just tell me what the hell happ—”
“Ten minutes.”
He hangs up.
Damn it.
I toss my cell phone onto the mattress, pull a shirt over my head, and march downstairs to wait outside on the front porch.
That’s where they find me ten minutes later.
Kip’s police car rolls to a stop in front of the house, the tires making prints in the mud from the afternoon rain shower. Both doors push open, and I rise to my feet, meeting them on the cobblestone walkway. June looks wrecked—hair knotted, makeup running down her cheeks in inky streams. Two swollen eyes land on me across the lawn, glimmering like sad blue moons. Kip trails behind her, scratching at his clean-shaven jaw.
“Thanks for bringing her home,” I mutter, my tone impressively calm. I shove my hands into my pockets to keep them from grabbing June like a madman and demanding answers, or from punching the wooden pillar beside me in the likely chance that I won’t like what those answers are.
June ducks her chin to her chest, then moves past me to the front porch, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the cement. She doesn’t say a word.
I walk with Kip back to his cruiser in hopes I can get his version of events. “Did someone hurt her? Touch her?”
Kip lifts his hand to rub the nape of his neck, tilting his head skyward. “You know, I don’t have any answers for you, Brant. I wish I did. She wouldn’t tell me what happened, but I don’t think it was serious.”
“How do you know?”
“No visible injuries. She said she wasn’t assaulted and I believe her, and she refused medical treatment. She said she made a mistake, and that’s all she’d give me.”
I swipe a hand down my face, glancing over my shoulder to where June is waiting idly on the porch, her head down.
“Listen,” Kip continues, “my guess is she had too much to drink, maybe fooled around with some boy, and now she regrets it.”
My fists clench. There’s a veil of red over my vision.
“Go easy on her… She’s finding her way. My own sister did some pretty heavy shit when she was June’s age. Happens to the best of us.” He gifts me a small smile that does nothing to quiet my demons. “She’s a good kid, I can tell.”
The twitter of crickets blends with the early autumn breeze, and I close my eyes, forcing myself to relax. Calm down. Get a damn hold of myself because I don’t like what I’m becoming.
