Page 16 of Darling

Peter thought for a bit before he continued. “You went to school, so this comparison might work for you: You know how individual ships in the British Navy would defect to piracy when they realized that they could? They would have their own pirate flag, but also the union jack. Then, depending on whether the circumstances required, they would raise one flag and lower another?”

Wendy had no idea what he was talking about, but she nodded anyway.

“They had the ability to reap the benefits of piracy and also had the power to prosecute pirates and enforce British maritime law. So, of course they just went everywhere drunk with power, fucking shit up, and no one could tell them to stop, or had the ability to stop them … because they were who you would go to when you needed to stop pirates.”

Wendy nodded.

“It’s like that. But cops.”

“Uh.”

“Yeah, it’s not great,” Peter snapped.

Wendy wasn’t sure what her face was doing, but whatever it was made Tinkerbelle smile.

“You regret coming out with us yet?” she asked in a suspiciously sweet voice.

“No,” Wendy said bullishly.

“Good.” Tinkerbelle’s smile grew wider. “Do you want to hear a story?”

“A story about what? Cops?” Wendy grimaced. She did not.

“A story about our Peter and why we have to run when we see police.”

Wendy looked up at Peter, who shrugged and nodded as if to say, Indulge her.

“Uh. Okay.” Wendy felt her back pocket to make sure her phone was still there.

Tinkerbelle scooted closer to Wendy and began, “A while back, closer to when Peter and I first met, we had been hanging out by the train graveyard—the place where the train cars go to sit when the station closes down for the night. We were having a small party. Pried open one of the train’s doors so it was like one big room. Some of the kids from down south had come up to be there. It was a really great night. I don’t know exactly what happened, but somehow the cops knew we were there and decided to come out full force to shut the party down.”

Tinkerbelle leaned back and kicked her legs up against the train car wall.

“I scampered off, of course. I’m good with hiding and running, but we had some younger boys with us that needed to be watched, protected, and led back home. They were new, you know.”

“Slightly and Curly,” Peter filled in. “Thirteen and fourteen at the time.”

“Indeed,” Tinkerbelle said. “Just babies, really. And this wasn’t your everyday raid; the police had the clubs and gear out in full force. No tear gas, but shields and all of that—who knows why they thought they needed it. None of us are ever armed. Also, this night in particular, the detective was out and heading the raid.”

Peter hummed, eyes twinkling as he listened.

“Detective Hook himself,” Tinkerbelle said the name proudly, like it meant something.

“Detective?” Wendy echoed.

Tinkerbelle nodded. “The worst of the lot of them. Anyway, we needed a distraction to get them away from our boys. Peter, bright as he is, had predicted we might have had trouble. He’d made a few fire starters and tossed them over the top of a few of the train cars to get attention. Then, while they were blazing hot and high, we made a run for it in the dark.

“Now, I’ve only heard this story secondhand, but from what I know, Detective Hook himself ran Peter and the boys down until the little ones couldn’t run anymore. Then he lined them up against a train car and called for backup.”

Tinkerbelle looked up at Peter, but he was gazing steadfastly at Wendy. He seemed amused by the way Tinkerbelle was telling the story. But Wendy was not amused; Wendy was horrified.

“Slightly started crying, so Hook tased him, which infuriated everyone, of course. Then when Hook turned his back for a second, Peter sprinted at him and wrestled him to the ground. He grabbed a rock and knocked the taser out of Hook’s hand and then smashed both of them with the rock until he couldn’t call for backup or use his pistol. Then Peter picked up Slightly, put him on his back, and carried him all the way back home.”

“Oh my God,” Wendy said.

“Yeah. A couple of months later, one of the boys saw Detective Hook coming out of a coffee shop. One of his hands was in a splint, but the other one had been amputated. So, chasing us down is now his personal vendetta.”

Wendy gasped. “Oh my God, that’s fucking crazy.”