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“I haven’t talked to Jake about it yet. I wanted to talk it over with the attorney and stuff before I talk to the kid and see if it’s what he wants. If the attorney told me that it couldn’t happen, I didn’t want to get his hopes up and then stomp all over them.”
“I can’t imagine the state not giving you custody, Ry.”
“That’s what I was told today. Looks like I should get immediate custodial custody while we wait for the adoption stuff to go through. He won’t have to stay in that shithole anymore.”
“I’d say that’s damn good news.” I pat my brother on the shoulder, so fucking proud of him. “Is he coming to your place after school for the weekend?”
“Yeah. He started keeping some things at my house. He’s claimed a bedroom, for fuck’s sake.” He grins like a loon. “That way, he doesn’t have to go to the foster home for anything after school.”
“I’ve done some digging since that day at your place,” I say and nod at Jeannie as she hustles past with a delivery from her deli. “There have been a few reports from previous placements of bad conditions in that house, but nothing could be proven. It’s pretty obvious to everyone that Wally and his wife only take on the fosters for the money from the state every month, but there’s such a shortage of foster homes in Montana that nothing has been done about it.”
“Fuck,” Ryan mutters. “What assholes.”
“You’re right on the mark there. So, I’m glad that you’re getting him out of that house.”
“Only to free up a bedroom for the next victim.” Ryan’s face is grim as he stares at me, and the radio on my belt sounds.
“Wild, you’re needed at 983 O’Brien Avenue. Domestic dispute, minor involved.”
Ryan and I scowl at each other as I speak into a radio on my shoulder. “Isn’t that the Wally Beck residence?”
“Confirmed.”
“Fuck,” Ryan says again.
“On my way, ETA five minutes.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Ryan—”
“I can come with you or follow you there. Either way, I’m fucking coming.”
I don’t argue when he climbs into the passenger side of my car, and I hit the siren and lights as I speed through town and come to a screaming stop outside of the residence.
It’s a small, white house with peeling blue trim. The yard is overgrown, and nothing about this place has been maintained at all.
“This is where he’s been living?” Ryan demands.
“You didn’t know?”
“Fuck no, I didn’t know. Jesus, I should have checked it out.”
“You stay out here.” I point a finger at his chest. “I mean it, you stay here. I don’t know if anyone is armed inside.”
The neighbor comes running out, her face ashen. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s been going on for at least an hour, and I just know that someone’s hurt in there.”
“Stay back,” I tell her and move for the door.
I can hear the yelling and swearing. The crash as things are thrown, and I pull my weapon and approach the door just as backup arrives behind me.
Knocking on the door, I try to look through the window.
“This is Officer Wild of the BVPD. I need you to open the door, please.”
Everything inside the house goes silent, and I narrow my eyes as the door is flung open and a woman, eyes wild and full of fear, stares up at me.
“There’s nothing wrong,” she says, but she’s breathing hard, and she’s holding her shirt closed in front of her where it’s been torn.
