Page 79 of Tough Love

I stow my phone and then toss the shoulder bag into the front seat. My futile efforts to at least smudge the words on the side of the car fail miserably. The paint’s dry, and what’s more, it won’t even budge when I scratch at it with my nail.

Great.Just fucking great.

To say I spent the entire drive out to Briar’s school on high alert would be an understatement. Every vehicle we passed, every person walking down the path, I scrutinised them all. He could be anywhere, everywhere.

The ladies at the school show understandable concern when I tell them that Briar’s father is in town and under no circumstances is he to be allowed access. The vice-principle pulls me aside to explain that an order is already in place, and all I can do is wonder what exactly happened with Kath in her final months if she went to these extremes to block Tristan from Briar.

A man she once placed on a pedestal over family.

My chest heaves as I pull in a lungful of fresh air, steeling myself before I walk into the fire and make this as real as it could get. The automatic doors of the police station slide open soundlessly, making my entrance seem all the more ominous.

“How can I help you?” the officer behind the desk asks as I stand wide-eyed in the centre of the foyer.

I hurry over to her, leaning across the desk to whisper as though any one of the people waiting in the chairs to my right could be here on behalf of Tristan.

“I’d like to report a case of vandalism, and possible stalking.”

“Okay.” She leans left, so blasé to how serious this is for me, and pulls out a form. “If you could fill out the particulars of the incident here”—she points to a large lined box at the bottom of the page with the end of her pen—“and give us as many details as you can. Anything you can remember, any little clues, gut feelings—they all help.”

I stand shell-shocked as she clips the form to a board and slides it over with a pen.

“You can take a seat over there. Bring it right back when you’re done and we’ll move on to the next step.”

I gather up the items and walk somewhat slower across to a seat in an empty row. My fears, the things that set my heart racing and bring back a thousand unwanted memories, have just been trivialised to paperwork. I mean, I wasn’t expecting a fanfare, or to be whisked away by bodyguards to a safe house, but I feel as though I’m just another number in the system.

I spend the following ten minutes writing out everything I can, all the details about how and why this guy is dangerous to not only me, but Briar, even going so far as to add an asterisk at the end with “P.T.O.” before I fill half the blank back side with more information.

The desk cop takes the paperwork from me with a smile and promises to get somebody to see me soon.

I resume my seat, and make a quick call to my boss to explain where I am, and that I’ll be in as soon as I can. He promises to put it down as a day in lieu, and refuses to see me until at least tomorrow morning. I guess some things I can still be thankful for. Four of the nine people I count in the waiting area disappear through to the heart of the station, or get what they need and leave, in the time I wait. My feet get twitchy, my nerves winning over as I wait, and wait, and wait.

What if they look at what I’ve given them and laugh me out of the building?

My heart seizes.

What if they demand I give Tristan rights to see Briar?

God, no.They couldn’t, could they?

The lock on the door that leads to the offices beeps, and I eye it disinterestedly as it opens, expecting one of the five remaining people who were here before me to get called through. I shift my gaze to the people in question, playing a little game with myself of trying to guess who’s next.

“Amelia….” The authoritative voice drifts off as the final syllable of my name falls from his lips.

Shit.Guess Jess won then.

Evan crosses the reception to where I wait and drops into the seat beside me. “What are you doing here?” He sets the papers with my name on them in his lap.

I point to them. “Says it all right there.”

“Shit.” He gathers them up, skimming what I’ve written. “I never read them first, just call out the name and let the person explain when I get them through to the room.” He falls silent, only the scrape of the page as he turns it to read the back penetrating the space between us.

“When did this happen?”

“This morning.”

“Fuck, Amelia.”

I smirk. “Are cops allowed to swear on duty?”

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