Page 13 of Everlasting Promises

“No … but he did!” he snaps.

I hold my hands out in a placating move. “Without evidence, I’m afraid I can’t charge him with theft.”Did he forcefully remove the items from Evan’s pockets?“Did you remove the items from his pockets, or did Evan remove them?”

The manager’s face turns scarlet. “I have CCTV footage. I have all the evidence I need.” Jesus. Evan looks up at me with big brown eyes, resigned to his fate.

I shift on my feet, getting more comfortable. “Sir, I understand you’re angry and upset, but did you or the boy remove the items from his pockets?”

His body trembles with anger. “I removed them.”

I turn to Evan. “Did you give Mr. MacDonnell permission to remove the items from your pockets?”

Evan shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“The items in his pockets belonged to me. I don’t need permission to get my stock back!” he shouts, spit flying from his mouth.

Evan looks up at me and shrugs. “I didn’t mind. I did the wrong thing. The stuff belonged to him.”

The old man points at Evan again, his hand shaking in anger, and I’m worried the guy’s going to collapse at any moment. “I’m sick of these young kids coming in here and causing trouble. Something needs to be done.”

“I agree, sir. This behavior is unacceptable, and you’ve done the right thing by calling it in to the station. However, in this instance, I don’t think a charge is necessary. I’ll have a chat with Evan, take him home to his parents, and discuss the events of the afternoon with them. Often a ride in the police cruiser and a stern chat are enough of a deterrent. I’ll also ensure he undertakes community service at the local shelter. Would that be satisfactory for you?”

The manager grunts and drops his hands to his hips as he studies Evan for a few moments. “Of the three boys, he was causing the least trouble, and I guess he didn’t drink a soda.” His posture softens as his shoulders drop. “To be honest, he looked reluctant and seemed like he was following the other two.”

Evan raises his head and looks at the manager. “I’m sorry, sir. I was just doing what my friends wanted me to do. I was trying to fit in. I promise it won’t happen again.” His bottom lip trembles as he delivers a genuine apology without being prompted. That says a lot about his character, supporting my initial assessment of him.

“You need to get yourself some new friends, young man,” the manager suggests.

Evan nods and shrugs. “Not sure if they’re really my friends,” he mumbles.

“Evan.” He looks up at me. “Do you want to press charges against Mr. MacDonnell for putting his hands on you?”

Evan’s eyes widen comically and he shakes his head with vigor, looking between me and the old man. “N-n-no. I-I-I did the wrong thing, and he was just getting his stuff back.”

MacDonnell’s shoulders stiffen and he aims a murderous glare my way, but before he can open his mouth, I nod. “All right. I’m going to take Evan home, and I’ll have a chat with his parents. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, Mr. MacDonnell.”

“You, too, Officer. And I don’t want to see you back in my gas station, Evan. Do you understand me?”

He nods. “Uh, yes, sir.”

The glass doors open, and I lead Evan out to my cruiser, opening the passenger door for him. “Get in and put your seatbelt on.” I climb in and start the car. “What’s your address?” He tells me, and I punch it into my GPS, then call the station to let them know I’m taking one of the kids home and that the other two offenders were not at the scene. I could use this time to question the boy about his friends and find out more information, but sometimes it’s best to let the kids stew a little.

I’m about five minutes out when I notice him adjusting his position. Glancing his way, I find him peering out the window as he bites his bottom lip. “Will your mom and dad be home?”

“Mom will. My dad died in Syria,” he mumbles.

My heart cleaves open for this kid. “Sorry about your dad, Evan. That’s gotta be tough.” I watch him shrug and drop his eyes to his lap.

I think he’s a good kid who’s lost his way a little. Dad’s gone, so there’s possibly no father figure at home, and Mom’s probably busy working and holding down the fort. He’s the perfect candidate for my project atThe Paw Palace. Hopefully, his mom will agree with my suggestion for him to take part in the program.

I pull up in front of a neat, dove-gray, two-story weatherboard home with white trim around the windows and doors. They don’t live all that far from my place. Climbing out of the car, I open Evan’s door, and he leads the way along the concrete path to the porch. I take the three steps as he flings the screen door open and storms inside.

“Mom!”

The hair on the back of my neck rises. The door was simply left unlocked. Some people underestimate their own safety. Evan’s silhouette, followed by that of a petite woman not much taller than he is, comes into view as he leads her to the front door. She pushes open the screen door, and her eyes widen when they land on me. The air in my lungs leaves on a gush, and I straighten my spine.

Jesus. She’s beautiful.

All soft, delicate features, wild curly hair, and clear eyes. My heart gallops in my chest, and I have to consciously take a breath.

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