Page 32 of Cash

“Where are you?” I whisper as I scan the alleys as we drive past.

I’m refusing to think of what could happen if we don’t find him. I’m trying to anyway, but images of other lost children keep flashing through my mind’s eye. Children that weren’t found in time. Children that we couldn’t identify without the help of forensics. Being a cop, you see things that nobody should ever have to see. Images that never leave you and haunt your dreams some nights.

The public hears about a tiny percentage of the atrocities committed against others, and even that’s been filtered enough to make it palatable. They don’t see the actual remains or damage done to another human. They hear about the Jeffrey Dahmers and Ted Bundys but seldom about the guy around the corner who’s abusing his wife and kids. They can’t see the mental scars or anguish it’s caused. The life-long issues that the victims must overcome just to make it through each day. Luckily, few people have to wash the smell of decomposition from their skin, hair and clothing at the end of the day like I have on numerous occasions. If only we could wash the images away just as easily.

“We’ll find him, Livi. Have faith,” James mutters quietly.

James has his faith to rely on during times like this. I wasn’t raised in a religious home, so I’ve had to find my own ways to cope. Too often, cops find destructive ways to do that, and it’s a downward spiral for them. I might not be religious in the traditional sense, but I believe in a higher power. And, most of all, I believe in James and my determination to correct what wrongs we can and to prevent others when possible.

“Why do you think he left?” I ask.

“Who knows what he was thinking. Maybe the other boys were bullying him. Maybe he doesn’t understand that his mom’s really dead. Maybe he—”

“Maybe he went home! Go there, James!” I shout.

James does a quick, illegal U-turn and drives us to the boy’s old address. Jumping out of the car, I see nothing but an empty yard and boarded-up window. James and I check in with the neighbors, but none have seen him. Not getting discouraged, we walk the entire neighborhood checking under porches and into backyards. After circling the entire area, we’re approaching our patrol unit, when I finally see the little boy. He’s sitting on the curb next to our car, head and shoulders drooping.

I nudge James and point. The little boy notices us but not until we’re taking seats on the curb next to him. He gives me a half-grin and my heart does a slow thump-thump in relief to see him whole. In his hands are the blanket and stuffed animal we’d given him. While I put my arm around his shoulders and pull him against me, I hear James calling it in that he’s been found. When James is done with the call, I climb into the backseat with the little boy and James drives us out of the neighborhood.

*~*~*~*

Once again, we’re forced to turn the little boy over to child protective services, and it doesn’t sit right with either of us. One of the hardest parts of this job is not having much say in the final outcome. We have to walk away when our part is finished, and it’s seldom easy. You form an attachment to some of the people you help and want to know how things work out for them, but it’s not encouraged to do so. We’re told to do our part and move on, but it’s difficult especially when a child is involved.

Walking out of the precinct and back to our car, James and I are both quiet. We go back out on patrol, but our minds are on the little boy who’s struggling with his new life. All that we’ve learned about him so far is that his mom was an addict who died with him left alone with her body. We know that he’s deaf, and the social worker doesn’t think he’s received any help with that. No schooling, doctor’s appointments, nothing. We don’t even know his name or if he has one. He’s completely unable to communicate at this time, but his foster parents are taking the appropriate steps to get him medical attention and to get him evaluated. It must have scared him because he bolted and returned home. How he found his way, no one knows. I wish I had more of James’s faith because I need some to believe that things will turn out well for the little guy.

We make a few traffic stops, give out warnings and try to keep our minds occupied on our job. It’s not long before we’re being sent to a bar fight on the edge of our district. After we break up the fight, with help from two other cops, we’re back at the precinct booking the instigator. He’s beyond drunk and had gotten nasty with the bartender when she cut him off for the night. After throwing a glass at her, the bouncers removed him from the bar. A full-fledged fight ensued when a few of his buddies got into the fray. We, with help from our back-up unit and the bouncers, finally got the troublemakers cuffed and into our patrol cars.

“I shouldn’t have left you in the bakery today. Those assholes wouldn’t have said anything to you if I’d have stayed,” James says as we’re walking to our cars after our shift.

“We’re partners, James, but that doesn’t mean we have to be glued to each other’s hips 24/7. It wasn’t a big deal. It was a bakery, not a bar. Besides, that guy you ID’d stepped up immediately. You never did explain why you checked him, though,” I answer.

“You’re like a dog with a bone,” James complains as we reach our cars.

“That’s what makes me a great cop,” I quip while looking at James across the hood of my car.

“And a pain in my ass,” James states with a grin as he again avoids the answer by climbing in his car and slamming the door.

Watching my best friend pull out of the parking lot, I grin because he’s only gained himself a temporary reprieve.

Chapter 8

Cash

Surprisingly enough, Tessie didn’t kill anyone on the training expedition. Terry was the only one who walked back through the door looking like the hounds of hell had been after him. The women were all smiles and joking about how scared Terry had been before he took up residence on the floorboard of the car. After talking with the Aunts about Bella hanging out with them, everyone left for home. I take two minutes to enjoy the peace and quiet before I get busy straightening up my home again. Who knew one child and constant company could wreck a home so quickly?

I don’t get much done before Liam decides to demand my attention. Picking him up out of his crib, I can smell the problem right away. Placing him on the changing table, I get all the supplies laid out before I start undressing him. I get his pajamas off, diaper undone when I realize just how bad this is going to be. This is the first shitty diaper I’ve ever had to change, and it’s a total explosion. Bailey warned me that his stomach might not be used to the formula she picked up for him, and I’m seeing the proof now. Using one hand to hold his legs, I lift him and pull the dirty diaper out from under him. As if I don’t have enough going on, I hear bikes coming up the street then my front door opening and people entering. It sounds like a herd of cattle, so I know several of my brothers have arrived.

“Cash!” Pigeon shouts down the hallway.

“Busy. Give me a minute,” I shout back as I lean to the side to place the dirty diaper down.

“Holy Jesus! What died in here?” Pigeon mutters as he walks into the room.

“His kid’s ass,” answers Horse Nuts as he follows Pigeon in the doorway while covering the lower half of his face with his forearm.

“Your kid’s a rank little fucker,” adds Petey with a laugh as he enters too.

“Anyone know how to do this?” I ask as Pigeon gags a little.

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