Page 16 of Cash

Not that Captain LaForest would write me up. I doubt he ever would because he’s about the best kind of brass you can work for. He’s fair, honest and cares deeply about his officers and the public. He takes our safety seriously but somehow balances that with the publics’ needs perfectly. He’s a small man in stature, but that’s never deterred him from being the first in the door when he worked the streets. Best yet, he’s never displayed the “little man syndrome” like so many others do.

“I appreciate that you’re worried about the little guy. I’ll have Sgt. Goodwin stay with him until CPS shows,” Captain LaForest assures me.

“Jesus, Cap. I’m a full-grown-ass man but if I had to sit in a room with Goodwin for long, I’d bug right the fuck out,” James exclaims while tossing his arms about.

That gets a grin, then a grimace, from the Captain. There’s a reason Sgt. Goodwin’s never allowed on hostage or possible jumper situations. Things would go to hell immediately. The man has zero people skills and even less of a personality. He wouldn’t even have a uniform on if it hadn’t been for his family’s legacy of law enforcement. Like every other job in the world, knowing someone high above can earn you things you don’t have coming.

“Yeah, fuck, you’re right. I’ll have the little guy sit in my office with me instead. One of you still have coloring books and crayons?” LaForest asks.

Luckily, that’s another thing James and I keep stocked up on. I retrieve the backpack with those items and more to help entertain the little boy for the time being. Before we leave the station, James carries him to the Captain’s office, and we get him settled in. I know he’s safe, and yet I still feel a tug in my chest about leaving him. We’ve handled many situations like this one but for some reason, I feel worse about walking away this time. I feel gutted when I watch his eyes turn sad as we walk out.

*~*~*~*

“I can’t even imagine what it was like for him. My God, James, he’s just a little boy! To have found her, been in the house with her dead body! For God knows how long too,” I say in a horrified whisper.

“I know. Holy hell, Livi. I wonder how long he stayed in that apartment until he was so hungry, he finally left? What went through his mind when Mommy didn’t wake up? Did he know or understand why? I fucking hate drugs! All the kids who’ve suffered because Mom or Dad got addicted and only cared about their next fix,” James states while we sit in the patrol car watching the woman’s body being removed from the apartment building.

“Coroner said she’s been there at least two weeks. That kid’s going to need a lot of love and support to overcome this,” I say, still whispering, while we both wipe the Vicks off from under our noses.

When we finally talked to a lady who directed us to this apartment building, we knew as soon as we entered, there was a dead body to be found. We weren’t positive this was where the boy lived, but the lady was sure she recognized him from the picture James had taken of him.

We followed the smell to apartment #4 and found the door partially open. How the other tenants could ignore the odor, I’ll never understand. Slowly pushing the door open, we spotted her immediately. Laying on the living room floor, in front of an old, ratty couch was what appeared to be a young woman, severely decomposed. Making a quick search of the tiny apartment, we found no one else present. Spotting drug paraphernalia scattered around on the end table, we could make a guess as to how she died. Also, there sat a small picture of a young lady with long, black hair holding a small boy on her lap. She was smiling, he was not. My heart sank when I recognized the small boy from earlier tonight.

“6908 to dispatch. We have a deceased person. Please contact the coroner’s office and a detective. We need them at this location,” James says into his mic.

“Copy, 6908. Coroner’s office and a detective will be en route.”

We back out of the apartment, and James waits near the door while I return to our patrol car. I grab latex gloves and the Vicks before returning to wait with James. We both glove up and smear a line of Vicks under our noses to help kill the smell. While waiting, I call the Captain on my cell phone to let him know what we found.

By the time we return to the station, CPS has taken custody of the small boy. Luckily, it’s by a social worker we know well, and I feel a bit better about his future. Peggy Contreau is great at her job and cares about the children assigned to her. Every social worker we know is over-worked and underpaid, but that won’t stop Peggy from doing her best for the little guy. He’s in good hands, and Peggy will make sure it stays that way. If he has other family, they’ll be found, and Peggy will have some say in whether it’s a good fit for him or not. Hopefully, he does have family and they’re capable and willing to take care of him. If not, he’ll end up in the system, but I know Peggy will fight to find him the best home possible.

Leaving work that night, James and I are both quiet. It was a tough shift, but there have been way worse ones. We both clocked in, clocked out and are whole. That’s the most we can hope for most days. Walking to our cars, James tosses his arm over my shoulders and we lean against each other. This job’s a hard one but so much better when you have a great partner to share it with. I thank God every day that I have James as mine.

Chapter 6

Cash

“Ready to go?” I ask Aunt Lola as I step inside their door.

“As you already know, I’m ready. But, as usual, Lottie isn’t. I have no idea what takes that woman so long to get ready for a simple club dinner,” snips Lola while reaching out for her hug.

I grin down at the top of her bluish hair as I give her the expected hug. These two will never change. Lola’s always early for everything, and Lottie’s always late. Doesn’t matter what their plans are, Lottie will be running late every single time. That’s why, even though they’ve always lived and worked together, they each own their own car. Lola’s temper flares if she thinks she’ll be late for something, so she’s often left Lottie to be late by herself. It’s not unusual, and always the family joke, that Lottie’s walked the bride down the aisle more times than we can count since she’s always late for everything, including weddings.

“Not a problem. I lied about what time dinner will be served. I added a half hour so we’d still be on time,” I whisper to Lola and smile bigger when I hear her giggle.

“Smart boy. Good thing you took after your mom’s side of the family,” Lola replies as she primly takes a seat in her favorite chair.

“I’ll be ready in a jiffy!” Lottie hollers from the direction of her bedroom.

“No, you won’t, you inconsiderate hag,” Lola hollers back.

“I’m not inconsiderate, you witch! I just care about my appearance. Something you should consider doing occasionally,” Lottie spits back.

“I was blessed with Mother’s genes, so it doesn’t take much effort to look my best. It’s tragic that you look more like Uncle Ernie. God rest his soul,” Lola says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Uncle Ernie? Uncle Ernie?” screeches Lottie as she enters the room, curlers still in her hair.

“Nice to see your hearing’s still working,” mutters Lola.

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