“I never thought something like this would happen to you,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
My brows pulled tight. His tone … he spoke as if he knew me.
“You were always so kind,” he added. “God, you don’t deserve any of this.”
I shook my head, confused.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
I studied him. I sometimes ran into former students of mine. But I’d never taught a Nolan. I’d remember that name.
But when I looked into his kind, brown eyes, something started to stir. A memory fighting its way up through all the chaos.
“My first name is James. But the kids back then also called me—”
“Noodle,” I said, the word slipping out before I could stop it. My cheeks flushed. “Oh my God. How did I not recognize you?”
He gave a dry, sarcastic laugh. “Noodle.”
“I’m … so sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.”
“It’s okay.” His smile was soft. “That was a long time ago.”
“Well, they were cruel,” I said firmly. “And it drove me nuts when they called you that. I had more than a few talks with parents to get their kids to stop ganging up on the smallest boy in the class and calling him awful names.”
He shrugged. “It’s the law of nature. Pick out the weakest. Pretend you’re strong by torturing them.”
I looked him over again. More intently this time.
He had to be almost six feet now. Broad-shouldered and fit. The kind of cop who looked like he could sprint across a parking lot and jump over a fence to catch a fleeing criminal.
“Well, look at you now,” I said, nudging his arm with my elbow. “Not so small anymore, huh? Fighting crime. And you’realready a detective? You must be really good at what you do. How old are you? Twenty-four?”
He smiled again. “Twenty-five.”
“Good for you. I’m sorry I didn’t remember you, but for some reason I thought your last name was Smith.”
His expression shifted back to serious. “It was. Until someone finally called CPS and reported seeing my dad beating me and my mom.”
Ah. Yes.
I remembered the bruises all over his back and arms. The sort of marks on a child that were unmistakable. CPS had told us that teachers couldn’t intervene without a witness, despite the mother trembling in my office and confirming the abuse.
“We finally got the chance to leave after they arrested my dad,” he said.
“I always wondered where you went. You just disappeared overnight that fall. We were told you left town with your mom. That your father was in prison.”
“Yeah. We went to live with my grandma and took my mom’s last name.”
“So Nolan is your mom’s name,” I said quietly.
“It is.”
He shook his head. “I’m really sorry you’re going through such hard times,” he said. “It’s smart to get that emergency hearing with the judge.”
“Lacey didn’t do this.” My voice trembled on the last word.
He pressed his lips together. “Funny. They all say that.” Then his gaze lifted and met mine. “But if she’s anything like you … then I believe it.”
