“Well, we uh…” I struggle to come up with a believable lie. Rodney always said I was a terrible actress. “My son wants to be a firefighter when he grows up.”
“Do you now?” The chief smiles at Crew.
Crew shakes his head. “No. I want to be Spider-Man.”
Kids are the worst.
I press a hand over one of Crew’s ears, tucking him into my side, and smiling at the chief. “I’m trying to talk him into something with better pay.”
The chief chuckles. “Then don’t let him be a firefighter.”
So this is going well.
“Right, well, thanks for taking the time.” Has it been long enough Ward will believe I somehow applied for a job without picking up a pen?
“What really brings you down to the station today?” The chief leans back in his chair and folds his hands over his belly.
A quick peek behind me tells me Ward is still standing there, watching, judging.
“I came to apologize to that big brute for knocking him out.” I mutter and plop down in the empty seat across from the Chief and toss my meager offering of fried goods onto the desk. “But he’s too stubborn to accept it.”
The chief’s laugh startles me, in a good way. “Yeah, he’s a tough one to like. But he’s worth keeping around.”
“I beg to differ.”
The chief continues to laugh as he types something on his computer.
I tap my fingers on my leg. How else can I fill this meaningless time? There’s a photo on the chief’s desk of him and what must be his family. The woman standing next to him looks familiar. I’m about to lean over for a closer look when the chief speaks up.
“So, that must make you…Lyndi Hill?”
I swallow. “Yes?”
“Has your son called 9-1-1 before?”
I wish I could say no. “He’s called a couple times.” I tried to be a good parent last month and teach him the number he could use in case of emergencies, but it has apparently backfired.
“Well, this makes number three.” The chief turns away from his computer. “Do you know what that means?”
“I’ve given him my phone three too many times?”
The chief smiles. “Unfortunately, it also means you’ll be getting a letter in the mail soon asking you to appear before the court or pay a fine. There might possibly even be a discussion with CPS.”
The blood drains from my face and overruns my lungs. “What?” CPS? They would take my child just because I tried to teach him the right things?
I grip the edges of my chair, my vision blurring. I can’t go anywhere near a courtroom. Crew doesn’t need two parents in jail. “I can’t do that. How much do I owe?” I’m already reaching for my wallet. The wallet that without a doubt contains nothing more than two five-dollar bills and an already maxed-out credit card.
“Wait.” He holds out his hand. “Hold on. I’m assuming someone talked to you the last time he called.”
I’d cleared up the situation with dispatch, but no one had mentionedthis.
He goes back to the computer, clicking and typing. Each stroke of the keys sounds like a ticking time bomb. I can’t lose Crew.
The chief faces me again. “I know what it’s like to be a single parent. To do it all alone,” he says, his voice soft and comforting. “My wife was a single mother for almost seven years before we met.”
I have no clue how he knows I’m a single mother, but at the moment, I don’t question it. He probably has a whole file on me, but for once, I don’t feel judged by my single status.
“I don’t want you to pay for something like this; I know you’re giving it your all. So what if I offer you an alternative?”
