He’d seen her tuck her hair behind her ear, often. And he’d always thought it was cute.
Seeing it close up, it was, like everything he was noting about Faye, a fuckuva lot cuter.
He stepped in behind her, closed the door and leaned his back against it, crossing his arms on his chest.
“Um… you might be mistaken,” she started, her eyes moving to the door behind him before lifting to his. “I’m not certain this needs privacy, Detective Keaton.”
“I thought we decided on Chace.”
She blinked and her head gave a slight twitch. “What?”
“I want you to call me Chace, Faye.”
“Right,” she whispered, her eyes on him having changed so she wasn’t simply meeting his but studying him.
“Now, what doesn’t need privacy?” he prompted.
“I…” She started, paused then continued, “See, there’s this…” She paused again, adjusted her torso in a way where it seemed she was trying to straighten her shoulders but failing as her eyes drifted away and she went on, “The thing is…” she trailed off, stopped and he watched as her teeth came back out. This time, they caught her lower lip on the outside then pulled in, teeth gliding over her lip and disappearing.
Christ, everything she did, having no clue she was doing it, was not only unbelievably sexy but her having no clue she was doing it was precisely why her doing it was unbelievably sexy.
“Faye,” he said softly, her gaze shot back to his and she spoke again, this time quickly.
“There’s a boy,” she began. “I don’t know, nine, ten years old. He comes into the library and steals books.”
“I see,” he murmured then guessed, “You don’t want to get him into trouble but you also can’t have him stealing books.”
“No,” she shook her head, “he returns them.”
Chace blinked.
Then he asked, “What?”
“He returns them,” she answered and kept talking in a rush. “I mean, since he steals them instead of checks them out, I can’t know if he’s returning all of them. But, for months now, he’s been coming in once or twice a week and once or twice a week I’ll have two or three books in the return bin that were never checked out. So, since I have no record what he took, I can’t know if he returns them all. But he’s a slip of a boy and although his jacket is big, he can’t lug out dozens of books. And I’ve had my eye on him. So if he’s stealing loads, I would notice. He isn’t stealing loads so, I’m not sure, but I think he returns all of them or, uh…” she faltered then finished, “the vast majority of them.”
“If this is true, I’m uncertain how there’s a problem.”
She pulled in a visibly deep breath.
And then she let it out while informing him quietly, “He’s being beaten.”
At that, Chace straightened from the door but he didn’t move from it as he whispered, “Beaten?”
She nodded.
“How do you know?” he asked.
“Well, the bruise on his cheekbone I saw. And the other one around his jaw. And then there were the ones on his wrists. But today,” she swallowed, took a half step toward him, stopped and sucked in another breath before going on, “today, it was bad.”
“How bad?”
“Eye swollen shut, bruises on his face, nose swollen and a gash on his lip that isn’t being treated.”
“Fuck,” Chace muttered.
“It’s worse,” she whispered and Chace nodded to her to go on. “He… well, he’s very thin. And he’s not clean, as in, way not clean. And his clothes don’t fit him. And he’s very, very thin.”
“You said that,” Chace noted quietly.
“He’s so very, very thin, Chace, it bears repeating,” she said quietly back.
Chace held her eyes and repeated his muttered, “Fuck.” Then he put his hands on his hips and asked, “You know this kid?”
She shook her head.
“Speak to him?” Chace continued.
She shook her head again but replied, “Every time I’ve tried to approach, he runs away. I tried again today and chased him. He was terrified. He outran me then disappeared.”
Jesus, she’d chased him? The town’s pretty, curvy, quiet librarian chased a kid?
He verbalized his question. “You chased him?”
“Yeah, out of the library and into town. He disappeared the minute he turned onto Main Street. Well, not the minute seeing as I was half a block behind him but close after. And I told him he wasn’t in trouble but he still ran.”
“You chased him.” It was a statement this time.