Page 26 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
m of a worn teddy bear. There are matching smears of dirt on her cheeks that tell me she’s been wiping away tears.
Her mother comes forward also but seems much more timid than her daughter. Amelia’s hair is a mess and her red-rimmed eyes have black smudges under them from where her makeup has run. She crosses her arms over her chest to steady the shaking of her hands. Even though she remains several feet behind her husband, she never looks at him.
Alcohol or abuse.
It’s my immediate assumption. It’s definitely one of the two.
“Did you paint those super cool rocks over there?” I ask Keely, using the same soothing voice as before in an effort to earn her trust.
“Me and my mommy did.” She barely nods, but it’s enough for me to try to coax her away from her parents to make sure she is okay and not in danger.
“Can you show me which ones you did? I bet I can guess because they are so pretty like you.”
She gives me a ghost of a smile, and the fleeting glimmer of happiness in her sad eyes breaks my heart. She looks up to her dad, who does not seem to be too pleased with my request. Those are the breaks, asshole. “Can I?”
He nods at her before shooting a glance over his shoulder to his wife.
Keely wrings her hands as she takes a few steps before looking back at her dad as if she’s going to get in trouble. I gently place my hand on her shoulder to try to lead her over to where the majority of the rocks are—far enough away that I can ask her questions to make sure she’s okay. My gut tells me she is—for now—but her mom’s well-being is a whole other story.
“Which ones did you paint?” I ask as I squat back down.
She angles her head to the side and stares at me without responding, the willingness to talk to me moments before suddenly dissipating into the distance I put between her and her mother.
“I bet you painted that caterpillar there,” I say, pointing to a rock and hoping I’m correct in my guess. The corners of her mouth softly turn up and her back straightens with pride. “And that one there?” I wait for her eyes to find what I’m pointing at. “That butterfly is so pretty. Is pink your favorite color?”
She nods but still doesn’t talk.
I glance over to where Nate is talking to Mr. and Mrs. Davis, who are still standing in the doorway, and hope he is able to get Mrs. Davis alone for a moment.
“Ahh, there’s a K on that one. I bet you painted that for your name.”
“Yeah.” Her voice is so quiet, and yet, I can hear the fear woven through it.
“That’s what I thought. That definitely looks like a ten-year-old painted it.”
She laughs, but there is no sound. “I’m not ten, though.”
“How old are you then?”
“I’m five.”
“No. Way. I thought for sure you were already driving. Are you sure the car in the driveway isn’t yours?”
Another crack of a smile is followed by an adamant shake of her head.
“And that rock there . . . is that one of your teddy bear?” I ask, pointing to the rock and then her ratty bear.
She nods. “His name is Nemo.”
“Nemo?” I smile. “I thought Nemo was a fish.”
“Nemo can be whatever he wants to be.”
“You are very right.” Schooled by a five-year-old. “Do you know why my friend, Officer Nate, and I are here, Keely?”
She shakes her head, but her quick glance over my shoulder to her dad tells me she knows exactly why we are here.
“We’re here to make sure you and your mom are okay.”
