Page 15 of Cash

After helping the paramedics load the man and watch them leave, we’re back in the patrol car, waiting for the next shit storm to happen. Pun totally intended. It’s not long and we’re on our way to another call. This one being a shoplifting complaint at a mini-mart just down the road from where we’re located.

Upon arriving and entering the store, I see an incredibly young, scared boy being held by the arm of a store employee. The employee himself barely looks old enough to have a job, let alone working one at night.

“We got a complaint of a shoplifter. Who called that in?” I ask.

“I did. I caught this little bastard stealing again. He’s done this before, but I never got a hold of him,” the store employee states while shaking the child hard. The child’s face shuts down, but he doesn’t struggle to get free.

“Let go of him. Right now,” James orders in a no-nonsense tone.

The store employee does so immediately. I step forward and crouch down in front of the young child. He’s cute with big blue eyes and black shaggy hair. His clothes are old, stained and not in his size. His feet are bare and dirty. He’s thin and his cheeks are hollowed out. My heart breaks instantly because I know he’s suffered during his few years on Earth.

“Hi. I’m Officer Moore. Can you tell me your name?”

No answer. No change of expression. Nothing.

“What was he trying to steal?” James asks the employee.

“Pint of milk and a small box of crackers,” answers the employee in a disgusted tone.

“We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help. What’s your name? Do you live near here?” I try again.

Again, nothing from the boy.

“You going to arrest him or what?” questions the employee.

“Let’s go over here and we can chat about why that’s never going to happen,” James states as he leads the employee out of hearing distance.

“My name is Livi. Olivia but all my friends call me Livi. Can you tell me your name?”

Still no response. I look to see James watching us and sliding money across the counter at the same time. I know instantly what the money is for, and I love my partner just a little bit more than before. I watch as he walks toward us with a pint of milk, a small package of cookies, crackers and a few more items in his hand. When James gets to us, he sits down flat on the floor and opens the milk. He holds it out to the little boy, and I watch doubt cross the little guy’s face.

“I paid for it so you might as well drink it. You’re not in any trouble, little man. It’s mine and I’m giving it to you. But you do have to share the cookies with me, though,” James says in a soft voice with a small smile on his handsome face.

I take a seat too, leaving a small space for the child. After some hesitation, the child drops to his knees between our legs, facing us. He carefully takes the milk from James and instantly guzzles quite a bit of it down. When he lowers the container, it’s to see James holding a cookie out to him. James and I each take one and start eating when the boy does the same. We sit quietly and eat our cookies together until they’re gone along with the milk.

“Can you tell me your name now?” I ask again.

The boy’s staring at James and not listening, so I tap him gently on the leg. He jumps slightly and swings his head my direction, startled.

“Name?”

I watch as the boy’s bottom lip trembles, and he slowly points to his ear.

“You can tell me your name. I promise you’re not in any trouble.”

Again, he points to his ear but this time he shakes his head at the same time.

“I think he’s saying he’s deaf,” I tell James.

James knows American Sign Language, so I watch him sign to the boy. Nothing. No recognition, no signing back. We try to communicate for a few more minutes but realize we’re not getting anywhere. I get up and walk off before calling our Captain. After explaining the situation, we’re told to bring him to the station and things will be sorted out from there. Before we leave, I buy several more items I think he might like. The boy willingly walks to our patrol car and gets inside. James and I always buy items to keep in our patrol car that help calm children during times of stress, so James grabs a stuffed dog and a small, fluffy blanket from the trunk. After securing the child with a seatbelt, James hands him both items, and we leave. Upon arriving at the station, we find the child fast asleep, covered with his blanket, dog held to his cheek.

*~*~*~*

“He trusts us, Captain. I’m not comfortable just leaving him sitting in the station waiting for CPS,” I argue.

“I get that, Livi, but I need you two on the streets trying to find his parents,” Captain LaForest states in a firm tone while giving me the exasperated look I’m used to receiving from him.

“No problem, Cap. We’ll get on that now,” James intercedes before I argue myself into an insubordination charge.

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