Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99040 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“Yeah, it started out as food. Sometimes toiletries from the local drug store. He had nothing growing up. And when I say nothing, I don’t just mean money. His father split before he was out of diapers and his mother was a nut. She was this old-school fire and brimstone type. Insanely religious in a puritanical way. Every penny they had went toward her niche church instead of her children. Pretty sure she had a drug problem. Gotta love the hypocrisy.”
A heaviness settled in her chest. “Man,” she whispered. “The poor kid.”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Such a bleeding heart.”
Right. What the hell did he care about a disadvantaged child? He’d only pledged to protect and serve his community. Apparently, that didn’t extend to people he considered beneath him.
“Fin was the kid in school who was always hungry because she barely fed him, and he wore the same clothes four days out of five. So at like nine or ten, he started swiping food. When he hit his teen years, he started stealing anything he could get his grubby little fingers on.”
Andrew delivered the heartbreaking story as though he was talking about nothing more than the weather. No emotion, not even a shake of his head in a poor-kiddo way. But Jo heard what he didn’t say, what her biased partner would never admit about someone like Tracker. He’d suffered as a child. Suffered hunger, neglect, and probably a healthy dose of fear. Maybe even straight-up abuse.
The thought of Tracker as a young boy needing to steal food to curb the painful pangs of hunger or soap to clean himself broke her heart. “Well, shit, Andrew. That’s tragic.”
He shrugged, and only years of restraint learned through growing up with three annoying-as-hell brothers kept her from slapping the indifference off his face. “Lots of kids have it rough and don’t steal shit. He made his choices.”
“Lots of…” She forced herself to take a breath and shake off his apathy. Before joining the force, she’d thought part of a cop’s job was to help those in need. To give a shit about struggling members of the community. What she’d found in the months since she joined this department was a group far more invested in punishment than prevention. “What about his mom? What did she do?”
“Thou shalt not steal, Jo,” he said with a smirk. “She didn’t do shit. If he was going to steal, he deserved the consequences.”
“What the hell? Even though she was the one who didn’t feed him? Who neglected him? That makes me sick.”
“You better harden up, honey. You’ll never make it as a cop if you cry over every criminal’s background.”
Oh, hell no. That shit was going to be shut down right now. “Honey? I’m sorry, do I give off the impression I’m okay with coworkers calling me honey?”
He chuckled and lifted his hands in surrender. “My bad. Sometimes I forget you’re one of those feminists. Won’t happen again.”
She was seconds away from cracking a tooth. At least he’d agreed to avoid the pet name. Unclenching her jaw, she said, “What finally made Tracker stop stealing? Did someone eventually help him?”
“Huh, not sure,” Andrew said with another of those unsympathetic shrugs. He swiveled in his chair to face his computer. “Maybe he got tired of being hauled into juvie every other week.”
So no one stepped up? No one came to the rescue of the troubled boy. All the department did was arrest him over and over again without offering him a way out of his hell. She shook her head. Why become a cop if truly helping people didn’t interest you? Jo couldn’t wrap her head around it, but it seemed to be prevalent among this department and even in her family, as much as it pained her to admit. She’d have wrapped the poor boy up in a hug, given him a hamburger, and worked her ass off to make it so he never had to steal again. No wonder Tracker spent his teen years on the wrong side of the law. It was a wonder he’d turned out the way he had.
And, God, now she wanted to hear from him. To find out how he’d crawled out of the muck and made something of himself. From what she’d seen, the man had found success and happiness.
Before she had a chance to question Andrew further, their lieutenant strode over with a slip of paper in his hand. “Baker, Simpson, I need you two to get your asses over to the Handlers’ clubhouse. Had another OD last night. A woman died in the ER. Eight months pregnant. She was the sister of one of the bikers.”
Oh my God. Jo’s stomach plummeted as she gasped. The club had to be deep in mourning today. From what little she knew of them, they were as close as family. Closer than some. All of the members would be feeling their brother’s loss.