Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“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.
“Janice, I heard the yelling and crashing from out there. I need to come in and make sure everyone is okay.”
“No.” She steps in front of me, her eyes even more wild now. “No, please. Everything is fine here.”
I can hear grunting behind her, and then the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and she winces.
“Back up,” I tell her and push past her, to find Wally beating the hell out of Jake. “Back away from the boy.”
“Fuck you,” he growls, his fist cocked back to strike again, and my blood runs cold. Jake’s face is swollen, blood running down his right cheek. He’s missing a tooth, and his left arm hangs loosely to the side, as if the shoulder is dislocated. Immediately, I lunge for Wally and knock him to the ground.
“Call for an ambulance,” I manage to call out to backup as I punch Wally in the face, knock him around, and get his arms behind his back and cuffed, then pull him up off of the floor. “You’re under arrest, you worthless sack of shit.” I read him his rights, then turn to Janice. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Oh, I—”
“How bad?”
“Tried to rape her,” Jake says, his voice coming in a whisper. “Pulled him off.”
“Jesus,” Ryan says as he rushes inside and hurries over to Jake. “My God, buddy.”
“He wouldn’t stop.” Jake finally sees that Ryan’s here, and his eyes fill with tears. “He just wouldn’t stop. Gonna kill me.”
“No,” Ryan says, gently brushing his hand over Jake’s hair. “He won’t. You’re safe, and we’re getting you to the hospital.”
“My kids,” Janice whimpers. “They’re hiding in their rooms.”
“They’ll be taken care of.” I can hear the ambulance on the way. “We’ll need two ambulances.”
“Two are on the way,” I’m assured, and I nod, then turn my attention back to Ryan, who’s holding Jake against him.
Six hours later, with my shift finally over, Wally and Janice’s kids placed in foster homes—oh, the irony—and all of my reports written and filed, I make my way into the hospital and find Ryan at Jake’s bedside. The kid’s asleep, with a brace holding his arm in place and bandages on his face.