Page 9 of The Ones We Fight For

“Hello?” Walker answered, clearing his throat and adding, “this is Walker Hartrick,” to the end in case they had called the wrong person.

“Mr. Hartrick,” a woman’s voice replied. “This is Patty in the attendance office. I am just calling to confirm that you authorized Carter to be out today. He gave us an absence slip, but we don’t have your signature on file yet.”

It only took Walker a split second to realize what Carter had done because Walker himself had done it a hundred times when he was in high school. His own dad had been too out of it most of the time to sign anything for school, so Walker had taken it upon himself to forge permission slips, tardy notes, and the obligatory “my son will not be present today due to unforeseen circumstances having to do with a distant relative who has passed away.” The attendance lady at the time, who Walker was pretty certain was the same one calling him about Carter, always knew he was full of shit but could never call him on it.

“Uh, yeah. He’s just struggling with everything right now. We’re going to do our best to make sure he’s there tomorrow,” Walker said, sucking in a deep breath to fight off the panic rising in his chest.

“Of course.” Patty’s tone dropped sympathetically. “I’ll collect his homework from each of his classes and send it home with Colin.”

“Thanks,” Walker said. Running around to grab absent students' homework was definitely not a part of her job description, but he appreciated people that picked up slack for him instead of making him relive everything through forced conversation.

“We do need your signature on a few documents down here when you get a chance as well,” Patty added, her tone making clear that she was not a fool and did not, for one second, believe that Walker had signed off on Carter’s absence.

“Right,” Walker bobbed his head as if she could see him. “I’ll come down by the end of the week. And, Patty?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any clue where the kids hang out when they skip school? Not that that’s what Carter is doing right now, of course.”

“Well…” Walker could almost hear the wheels turning in Patty’s head before she spoke again. “If I was looking for one, I’d probably find them near the docks, but, then again, you’d probably know better than I would, Mr. Hartrick.”

“Touché.” He felt the corners of his mouth pull up slightly at the implication that he had some experience with playing hooky. She was definitely the same attendance lady. He must have been such a pain in the ass when he was in high school, but at least, if nothing else, he was memorable. “Thanks again, Patty.”

“Sure. Feel free to call us if you need anything.”

After exchanging goodbyes, Walker dialed his nephew, unsurprised when his phone rang two and a half times and then went to voicemail. Carter was out somewhere, lucid enough to decline his phone calls. It was the closest Walker was going to get to proof of life. He wanted to be frustrated by it, but he had pulled the same stunts when he was a teenager, ignoring every time Cole called to berate him about missing class. Cole most likely got insider information on all of his absences from Patty, now that Walker was thinking about it. Exhaling loudly, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and started to pack away his things.

So much for being productive with work today.

“You should track his phone.”

Walker’s head snapped in the direction of the voice to find Talia looking over at him. When he didn’t respond, she shrugged and went back to reading her paperback.

“You were eavesdropping?”

Talia tilted her face back in his direction, hitting him with an unapologetic glare. “It’s like a ventriloquist act, the way your voice carries but your face shows barely any emotion other than a scowl. It’s actually distracting me from reading, so if you could keep it down, that would be great.” She adjusted her glasses on her face and turned back to her book.

Walker wished he could be offended, but he was more thrilled by the idea that he was annoying her in some way.

“It would be way easier if I was the puppet,” he retorted. The idea of his brother or another responsible adult controlling all of his motions sounded better than sex at this point.

His response must have surprised Talia because her brows cinched together just as he planted his signature frown back on his face.

“Again, I don’t need your help, though. Tracking his phone is an invasion of privacy.”

Walker shoved his laptop in his bag, slung it over one shoulder and drained the rest of his coffee. He tossed the cup toward the trash can with a forceful flick of his wrist. To his aggravation, the cup rolled around the rim and fell to the floor with a weak thunk. With a grumble, Walker bent over to pick it up and dropped it through the hole. Refusing to look back, he forged ahead, figuring Talia was probably ready to pounce with some sort of snide comment about how he was not the next Kobe Bryant. Usually, he was good at basketball and all things that involved throwing an object through a hoop. It was her unnerving presence and captious eyes searing holes into the back of his head that made him miss.

The drive out to the docks was uneventful and fruitless: Carter was nowhere to be found. Walker took a moment to himself, looking out over the ripples of water as he stood on the dock. The minute of peace was all he needed to clear his head before he was back in his trusty soccer mom van.

When Walker first claimed the minivan after the accident, he was surprised by how comfortable the seats were and how spacious the interior was. He wasn’t upset about the backup camera and stereo system that made him feel like he was live in concert when he played his depressing music, either. The manufacturers expected the owners of these vehicles to be hauling a hundred kids around, so they made sure you could fit just about anything in the trunk: sports bags, dead bodies, you name it. The amount of curtain airbags that would drop over the windows if Walker ever did get into an accident were astounding. If Cole had driven this car instead of the sporty Nissan that found its new home in a wrecking yard, he and Paisley might have made it out.

Walker settled into his new role as a minivan driver with ease, even more a reason to ditch his motorcycle. After Talia had almost sent him flying over his handlebars, he’d posted pictures of the Ducati to several online marketplaces and taped a sign to it that read “for sale by owner.” The only thing the bike could do anymore was make him a few bucks.

After checking most places within walking distance of the school, Walker pulled into the parking lot of a local mini market. He peeled out in frustration just a minute later when he could see clearly through the glass doors that Carter was not inside. There was only one option left. Walker gritted his teeth and forced his wheel in the direction of the coffee shop. There were things that were more important than his pride, and Carter was one of those things.

Talia was still sitting in the same spot Walker had left her in. He needed her help, for Carter’s sake. If she had just left, he could have made a strong case that he had at least attempted to get her assistance and avoided this, but he needed her. He strode over and dropped into the chair across from hers, and she looked up.

“How do you track a phone? And do not patronize me.” Walker raised a finger in warning. “I need to find my nephew, and I don’t have time for the back and forth.”

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