Page 17 of Operation Protector
“I…yeah.” It was starting to hit him, all the people he knew or had worked with who had Foxworth to thank for the better lives they had today. He knew they’d also helped a guy who had ended up at Sarge’s encampment for veterans. Plus, they’d helped Sarge himself when setting up the refuge for vets who needed a place to get their feet under them again had run afoul of some bureaucrat.
“He also said that you did it for materials cost only.”
He shrugged. “Sarge is doing a great thing there. I wanted to help.”
He saw the woman nod as if she’d heard what she’d expected to hear. Then she looked at Quinn and said, “So, that…theoretical situation you wanted to discuss?”
Colby’s jaw tightened nervously at the “theoretical.” Quinn had promised him they’d stay in what-if territory, that they would not reveal anything that would make the detective feel as if she had to step in. At least, not yet. He had to trust them, these people he’d only met hours ago. And when it came to Grace’swelfare, it was hard to trust anyone. But the Foxworth name was as unassailable as any name could be, at least around here.
“Seven-year-old child. Divorced parents. Father, working guy, clean record and clearly loves the girl. Mother, wealthy family, with influence she uses like a sledgehammer. Also uses the girl as a weapon against the father. No physical abuse that we’re aware of.”
The detective shifted her gaze to Colby. “Let me guess, she’s also making the father seeing his daughter as difficult as possible?”
“Yes,” Quinn answered for him.
The woman’s gaze never left Colby. Clearly she knew he was the father in question. “And how far has the father had to push, to see his child?”
“So far just the broken window I mentioned,” Quinn answered, “to check on the girl who was locked in her room, nearly hysterical.”
Detective Devon nodded, still looking at Colby. And then she shifted her focus to Cutter, who had walked over and sat at—in fact on—his feet, but turned to face her. The dog looked up at her steadily. And as if that had been the deciding factor, she looked back up at Colby and said, very quietly, “I won’t step in officially unless I absolutely have to. Unless I’m ordered to. Does she have that kind of influence?”
He let out a weary breath. “Afraid so.”
“Mostly local, though,” Quinn put in. “Not so much on the other side, or down in Olympia.”
“All right,” the detective said. “That tells me who not to ask for information, if I need it.” That caught Colby off guard and his eyes widened. And then Carly Devon smiled, widely, and shifted her gaze to Quinn “Guess I’ll stick to Brett.”
“Always a good plan,” Quinn said with a grin.
Under the circumstances it took him a moment to put it together, that they were referring to the other local detective who had been instrumental in that takedown of the crooked governor, Brett Dunbar. And once more he felt that wave of wonder, that he had people like this on his side.
“I checked as you asked, Quinn, and as of half an hour ago, no reports on a broken window from that address,” she went on, snapping him out of his reverie.
“Figured,” Quinn said. “So she’s not playing by the common rules.”
“She doesn’t think she has to,” Colby said before he could stop himself. He had to remind himself to word the rest carefully. “Plus…she’s the type who might keep that as a secret weapon. Her family’s big on that.”
“Tell her about the story you found,” Quinn said,
It was difficult, sharing how wrong he’d been about the life he’d foolishly thought he had. But that story Grace had written, those two and a half pages of her surprisingly well-formed printing, had been the thing that changed everything, the thing that had opened his eyes.
“You know,” the blonde said when he’d finished, her tone carefully neutral, “a lot of people would have shined that on as just a kid’s vivid imagination, maybe after watching some movie with a monster in it.”
He shook his head. “Not Grace. When I talked to her about it, she said it was real, that she only made it a monster in case Liz found it. So she could pretend just that.”
The detective’s brows rose. “Smart indeed.”
“Yes. And she doesn’t lie.” Surprising himself, he smiled. At the detective’s questioning look he explained. “Once when we were in a hearing, the family court officer asked her if she liked her home. She said yes, but it would have been better if I’d built it. Then they asked her if she had her own room, and had enoughclothes and things. And she said yes, after her mother got her own stuff. So they asked her if she had everything she needed, and she said no.”
His throat tightened, and he couldn’t go on. But it appeared he didn’t have to, because Ali had come up behind him and said quietly, “And I’ll bet she said it was because she didn’t have you.”
He nodded, not even surprised at her accurate guess. He was remembering that hearing so vividly now his eyes began to sting all over again. He looked up at Ali, marveling anew at how she had stepped up on his side when they’d met less than—he glanced at the time stamp in the corner of the camera feed on the flat-screen—five hours ago.
He didn’t realize he was shaking his head until the detective asked quietly, “Problem?”
“No, I just… This morning I was dealing with this alone, with my gut telling me I was going to lose and be lucky if I didn’t end up in jail. And now…” He gestured toward Ali first, then Quinn and Hayley as they came out to join them.
“They do have a way,” Detective Devon said after being introduced to Ali. Then, smiling widely, she said, “I owe them—and their boy Cutter—for my current state of delirious happiness. And I’m just one in a long line.”
