I push him aside with everything I’ve got. And trust me, you need a lot to push that monstrosity out of the way. Good thing I work out. Sometimes. Then I take the kid by the arm and lead him into the building with the three stooges following close behind. This would make for a much more dramatic moment if the kid wasn’t dragging his fucking feet the way a dog might fight against its owner when being forced into taking bath.
Inside, I’m ready to pound through security and make my way to delivering Leary into the Captain’s hands personally, but I’m stopped short by… no one.
“Okay.” I’m about to ring the hell out of the I-need-some-goddamn-assistance bell when a skinny little fucker comes running around the corner of the nearby hallway like he’s Roger Rabbit running from the law itself. He’s got a fist full of something crumpled in his hands, and when he gets to me, he grabs the counter for balance to hold himself up.
“Captain,” he huffs a few times, out of breath. “Wanted me,” he bends over, then holds the papers up for me to take. “Here.”
“The fuck is this shit?” I read the standard set of drop off papers I generally skim when I hand someone over. When the newbie can finally breathe normally again, he stands up straight and tells me, “Captain had to leave early. He said you can sign those whenever… drop them off tomorrow. At your convenience.”
I chuckle at the joke of the year. “At my convenience?”
He breathes heavy and nods. “That’s what he said.”
I let go of Donnie and he glances down, abruptly. His jaw clenches and he swallows hard. I can just about see the thoughts running through his mind. He knows these guys, or he’s familiar with them, at the very least. And he’s scared shitless.
Possible reasons for his fear start ticking through my brain.
There’s definitely a personal relationship of some kind going on here. Like maybe he hijacked one of their cars, or something along those lines, at some point. Maybe stole some wheels. Or maybe they knew the guy he offed. They might be looking for some payback. That should probably bother me, but been there, done that.
A twitchy little brown-nosing type, whom I’ve never met before, takes a pen from the holder next to the front desk computer and hands it to me.
“We’ll sign for you tonight, if you want.”
Hank agrees. “I’ll sign personally if it’ll make you feel better.” Then smiles in a creepy I want to kill your family kinda way.
Everyone knows the captain and I don’t exactly get along. It’s more of a begrudged association, really. Another long story. So any excuse for me to get out of having a not-so-nice face-to-face with him is fine by me.
Paperwork is paperwork.
I sign the thing and hold it out for Hank to take, and he disappears behind the desk to give it his John Hancock and make me my copy.
“You’ve got a knack for the admin side of law enforcement, Riley.” I snigger but he doesn’t join in my amusement.
“Your services are no longer needed for the evening, Stiles. You should go home, relax.” Jim Galley sniffs in my general direction. “Get a shower or something.”
Galley’s a dick. Always has been. Always will be. Thinks he’s beyond the law and isn’t ashamed to say it in some circles.
As the men in blue laugh among themselves, Brown-Noser begins to lead Donnie off toward another room. The kid stiffens suddenly, and his eyes begin to dart around like he’s trying to figure out a way to escape this situation.
When they land on mine, there’s worry bursting from behind them. He swallows hard and shakes his head. “I don’t belong here, man. You know that, right?” The desperation in his voice causes the group of officers to cackle like a group of hens on crack, and I kinda wanna dick punch every one of them for it.
Okay, I kinda wanna dick punch them on any given day of the week, but still.
“You taking on the role of mommy now, Stiles?” Galley jibes. The rest of them applaud the ass-twat because, yeah, good one, Jim.
Meanwhile, my Spidey senses are making the back of my neck itch. So let’s take a short time out here, shall we?
Say I actually want to do something about this situation.
There’re three of them. Four if you’re including chicken legs over there. Not great odds, but I’ve taken on more than that before. No need to re-hash the details of that incident. Not to mention the fact that if I was to take off with a perp, who’s wanted for murder, might I add, that I was hired to bring in, not only am I harboring a fugitive, but I am a fugitive.
So the question is, do I have the energy, or the interest, to deal with the entirety of Redemption’s police department chasing my ass over this petty ass bullshit? Maybe even the entire state?
Decisions, decisions.
I check the time.
Jesus. It’s getting late, and honestly, I’m probably just imagining things anyway.
It’s been known to happen. Especially when I’m in sleep deprivation mode.
Besides, this is a perp we’re talking about. Right? Sorry about your luck, Donnie.
“See ya, kid,” I tell him. That’s my final decision and he knows it. The disappointment that spreads across his expression tells me so. Not that I’m affected by it whatsoever.