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Her children are well-behaved and love her dearly. Her son is starving for male attention. He talked to me for the rest of the day when I wasn’t focused on his mom and her damn bikini.
At the end of the day, I walked them to their car and watched as they drove off. I stood there knowing I’d be with them some day. Yearning to be the one driving them around and spending time with them.
My phone rings at my desk, shaking me free of my thoughts.
“Whitlock,” I answer.
“Hello. Is this Maverick Whitlock?” a woman says in a monotone voice.
“It is. Who is this?”
“Mr. Whitlock—”
“It’s Sergeant Whitlock.”
“Yes, sorry. Sergeant Whitlock, I’m Mrs. Brown with the Thurston Academy. This isn’t normal, but I can’t reach his mother and the nanny gave authorization.”
“What is this about?” I’m confused by her words.
“Micah Rorke. We have an issue, hence why I’m contacting you. I have strict orders not to call his father. His mother can’t be reached, and the nanny has taken his sister to a doctor’s appointment. Can you come to the school please?”
“Sure. I’ll be there shortly.” I hang up and wonder what Micah did to get in trouble. I call Lydia myself, and it goes to voice mail after a few rings. I leave her a message, letting her know I’m on my way to the school.
The short drive to the exclusive private school goes by quickly. Lydia still hasn’t called me back, which must mean there was a development at work. I texted her this morning, and she told me they had a tiger that was about to give birth. She said she needed to be on hand in case there were issues. I asked her to dinner, but she didn’t know if she would get any time off to have dinner with me. Okay, yeah, I told myself I’d wait until after her divorce was finalized, but after this past weekend and seeing the other men interested in her, I’m not waiting too long.
I pull up in front of the school and exit my patrol vehicle. The kids and adults all turn to look at me as I walk inside in full uniform. Rumors are going to be flying later that someone called the police to the school, but I don’t care. My focus is Micah.
When I step into the office, he’s sitting in a chair with his head bent low and another boy sitting next to him in the same pose. I ignore him for a moment and approach the counter.
“Sergeant Whitlock. I was asked to come down for Micah Rorke.” I hear him gasp behind me and try to hide my smile. This should scare him straight, me coming here as an officer and not as his mom’s friend.
“Hello, Sergeant, thank you for coming down so fast.” The secretary waves her hand toward the boys. “They decided violence was the best way to fix their situation.”
I turn from the counter and look at both of them. Their uniforms are disheveled, and both have split lips and other bruises. I shake my head and move to them both and squat down in front of them.
“So, boys, did you learn anything? Does violence fix a problem?” I look at both boys and don’t pay any particular attention to Micah. He needs to understand that fighting doesn’t help solve problems.
“We just wanted to see who hit the hardest,” the other boy says, and I shake my head.
“Buddy, there are better ways than hitting each other.”
“Micah said his mom got smacked in the face and it caused her lip to split. When we slapped each other, it didn’t work. So we tried punching.”
I turn to Micah to confirm this information.
“Little buddy, where did you hear that your mom was slapped?” I know Lydia has been keeping certain information from the kids, but here’s proof that they are finding out somewhere.
“I overheard my uncle talking to Krystal. He told her he was going to hire security for mom too if something else happened to her.” His seven-year-old voice quivers. These two are friends, not enemies, and they were just testing out a theory.
“You shouldn’t eavesdrop on adults. Come on.” I stand up and move back to the counter, where I proceed to sign Micah out.
“Wait, you can’t arrest him. He’s my best friend.” The other boy stands up and rushes over. I look down at him and shake my head when he grabs my arm.
“I’m not arresting him. Micah is my friend. I’m taking him with me for a bit, seeing as we can’t reach his mama. You both are suspended for the rest of the week for fighting, right? Besides, school’s out next week. So don’t get into any more trouble, or you won’t be able to participate in the end-of-the-school year fun.” I smile at him, and he nods.
I noticed all of the signs in the hallway about the picnic and field day games, as well as other activities to commemorate the end of the school year.
I have my hand on Micah’s shoulder as I lead him from the school. So no one mistakes what’s going on, I open the front passenger door of my SUV to put him in the front seat. When I get in, I disengage the airbag because he’s not technically old enough to sit up here, but I don’t want to put him in the back seat.
