Kerry’s mouth dropped open. “But I thought . . .”
“I’ll try it one time. Like Coach Walker said. Better than algebra.”
“But you don’t even—”
“What else did Coach Walker say?” asked Gene.
“He said it could give me self-confidence,” Shay mumbled.
“Did he explain exactly what it is you’re going to be doing?”
Kerry and Shay shook their heads.
“First off, the most important things about boxing are the key values of respect, camaraderie, and honor. After that, some people think boxing’s just punching. But it’s actually a full-body conditioning program that will strengthen your core and your cardiovascular system. We’ll be doing lots of aerobic and anaerobic conditioning, plyometrics, and agility movements.”
“I have a question,” Kerry interjected. “What about the fact that she’s a girl?”
Shay’s jaw dropped and her eyes rolled back in her head. “Momm-ah!”
“I know of models and fashion bloggers who box,” said Coach. “They put it right up there with ballet and SoulCycle. Are you afraid of her bulking up? Don’t worry. Not going to happen.
“In other words,” he turned back to Shay and smiled, “boxing’ll give you lean, toned arms and legs. And as an added bonus,” he paused for effect, “no one will want to mess with you. So. How ’bout it. You in?”
Kerry opened her mouth to answer for her daughter, the way she had all Shay’s life, but Coach Lovatt flashed her a veiled warning.
To say Shay wasn’t athletic was an understatement. She hated running so much, she’d begged to stay home from school every year on Field Day. She spent most of her free time in front of the mirror, experimenting with the gaudiest colors in Kerry’s eye-shadow palettes, the ones that would otherwise have gone unused when all the neutrals were empty.
So why was she now nodding her head in acquiescence?
“Great,” said Coach, tossing an arm around Shay’s shoulders. “Mom? We’ll see you later.”
“But I thought I’d . . .” the word watch trailed off as Shay was led away by Coach Lovatt without so much as a backward glance.
Shay, who would always be her firstborn. Her precious daughter, whom she never shared with anyone—not even Shay’s father, who’d rejected her while she was still in the womb. She wanted to run after her and scoop her up and tell her there was no need to subject herself to this. That her mama would protect her for the rest of her life.
But as much as she wanted to wrap Shay up in a safe cocoon and keep her tucked safely in her bedroom with the aqua bedspread and stuffed animals, the reality was that Kerry couldn’t be with her 24-7 for the rest of her life.
She pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow. As hard as it was, maybe it was time for her baby to learn to protect herself.
Chapter Six
A dozen or so officers lounged at rows of tables for the morning briefing. From the Patrol Division were the school resource officer and traffic safety. From the Special Ops Division were detectives assigned to the property crimes and narcotics units.
There was also Alex’s unit. Crimes Against Persons was a catchall term that encompassed felonious assaults, abuse, and missing persons, as well as more violent crimes like rape, robbery, and homicide. CAP was also tasked with collecting crime-scene evidence and interviewing suspects, witnesses, and victims to assist in prosecution.
Granger, one of the other five officers in the unit, sat next to Alex, holding his pen between his teeth, frowning down at his tablet.
Tony Zangrilli was relating how around ten thirty on the previous night’s patrol he had spotted two kids in the vicinity of the same schools Alex drove past on his way to and from work.
“I gave foot chase, but they were three hundred yards away before I got out of my car. Soon as they saw me, they took off running and fanned out.”
Wincing at the bitter taste of the brew from the ancient coffeemaker, Alex set down his cup. “How old did you say you thought they were?”
“The younger one was about eight and the older one, eleven.”
“What time’s curfew around here?”
“Nine fifteen for kids under fourteen,” stated the chief, where he stood at the front of the room.
Zangrilli added, “It’s rarely enforced, but it can come in handy when your gut tells you something’s off.”
Whatever it was that had caught Alex’s attention that evening at dusk a couple of weeks back—a fox, a plastic bag blowing in the wind—it hadn’t been solid enough to warrant a report.
But after hearing Zangrilli’s story, he made a mental note to keep his eyes peeled whenever he was in that area.
* * *
Only two nights later, driving past the athletic fields at around eleven fifteen, Alex came upon two thin, shaggy-haired boys walking down the sidewalk.
“This is Walker.” Alex’s right hand clutched his radio while his left was already on his door handle in readiness to bail. “Signal thirteen. I’m on Northeast Chehalem by the middle school. Going to be two juveniles on foot, one in a white T-shirt, the other in blue.”
On seeing headlights coming down the deserted street, the boys turned their heads but didn’t startle at the sight of Alex’s unremarkable Ford sedan.
Until Alex slid down his window and drove up alongside them. “What are you two doing roaming the street at this hour on a school night?”
They froze in their tracks.
“Don’t try to run.” In a second, Alex was standing over them, hands on hips.
“What’re your names?” he asked in a speaking tone.
“Tyler,” said the older of the two.
“Travith,” lisped the other boy who, by the green eyes and pointed chins they shared, was obviously his brother.
“Where do you live?”
Reluctantly, Tyler pointed toward multileveled rooftops on a rise, a few blocks away.
“Allen Street?”
He nodded.
The ritziest street in town, where Victorians trimmed in pastel shades sat back in professionally landscaped yards like grand ladies holding court.
“Do your parents know where you are?”
Travis cowered behind his older brother.
“I’m a policeman,” said Alex.
The boys’ eyes grew wider.
“Where’s your uniform?” cracked Tyler, thrusting out his bony chest.
“Not all policemen wear uniforms. See? Here’s my badge.” The metal glinted in the light of his headlights.
Despite himself, Travis leaned around his brother to ogle it.
Alex clapped a hand on to each of the boys’ clavicles and escorted them to the passenger side of his car and told them to slide in to the front seat. They were so small they could both easily fit.
Then he climbed in next to them.
“What’s your last name?”
“Pelletier.”
“What’s your mom going to say when I bring you to the door?”
He peered down into a pair of faces looking mutely up at him. They didn’t seem as scared now. More curious about Alex and his dashboard, kitted out with its video screen for running plates and buttons for sirens and lights.
“You ever been in trouble with the police before?” he asked sternly. “Don’t lie, because I’m going to check.”
They shook their heads while he radioed their names to the dispatcher.
They came back clean—not that Alex was surprised. “I’m going to take you boys home with a warning,” he said. “I imagine Mom and Dad will punish you enough for being out at this hour.”
As the older of the two solemnly pointed the way to their house, Alex prepared himself for concerned parental anger, profuse apologies, and sworn promises that this would never happen again, to which he would mutter some platitudes, wave, back down the driveway, and forget all about—what were their names, again?
He pulled into the long drive of a house in a leafy enclave th
at sat back even farther than the others on the block. His headlamps revealed a boxy brick dwelling with darkened windows and a mansard roof that gave the impression that the whole house was frowning.
He rang the bell while the boys stood on either side of him, still seeming more curious than concerned about an imminent scolding.
After thirty seconds, Alex punched the bell again, twice this time for good measure. The sooner he could get this nuisance case off his hands, the sooner he could get home. Maybe he could get some work in on his blog yet tonight.
Still, no one came.
“Newberry Police,” he yelled, and pounded on the door hard enough to make the younger boy jump.
Finally, the door slowly opened to a woman with tousled hair who appeared to have fallen asleep in her street clothes, clothes that fit her so perfectly they could have been made expressly for her.
“Lose something?” By this time, Alex was unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
The woman shook back her fashionably cut hair.
“It’s hours past curfew. I found these two a block from here wandering around. You want to explain that?”
“They must have slipped out when I wasn’t looking.”
“These are your kids?”
She hesitated, as if undecided. “Yes.”
There was something familiar about this woman who had had the good fortune to live in a grand house and have two healthy boys and yet who stood there, silent as a stone. She reminded him of his own mother.
Long ago, Alex had decided that if one of his kids snuck out and was brought home in the middle of the night by a cop, he wouldn’t stand there like a bump on a log like this woman was doing. Like his own mother had done when Alex himself had wandered out, seeking nothing more than someone to talk to, to affirm that he was human, that he existed. He’d haul his butt into the house, sit him down, and give him a reaming he wouldn’t soon forget. Then again, no kid of his would suffer self-doubt over whether he was worth more than just a pile of professionally wrapped presents at Christmas, picked out by his mother’s personal assistant.
Hopefully, these guys didn’t have it that bad. Even if they did, emotional neglect was clouded in ambiguity and hard to prove.
He looked them over again. No obvious bruising, no signs of broken bones.
With a hand to their upper backs, he gave them a nudge forward. “Go on inside, boys, and get ready for bed.” He’d meant what he’d said to the kids earlier. He really had intended to let this go with just a warning. But he had scant patience for parents like this one.
The woman turned to retreat into the house, thinking she was off the hook, but Alex stuck his foot in the door as he scribbled on his electronic tablet.
“Not so fast. I’m citing you for violation of curfew. Five hundred dollars for each child.”
She turned back around, cocking a brow. “Excuse me?” It was the most emotion she’d shown since answering the door. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Consider yourself lucky. They’ve been spotted out here before, but this is the first time they’ve been caught. If it happens again, you’ll get slammed with another fine, plus you’ll have to go to a three-hour workshop on what happens to kids left alone to walk the streets at night. A third time and you could lose your kids.”
Alex printed the citation and ripped it off his device with a flourish. When she simply looked at it, he grabbed her hand dangling limply at her side and stuffed the citation into it.
Then he strode back to his vehicle to the soft click of the ornately carved front door closing behind him, his pulse pounding in his temples.
He fished in his pocket for one of the rolls of TUMS he kept everywhere—his car, his desk drawer, and his nightstand. This was the kind of call that had got him diagnosed with acid reflux in the first place.
Chapter Seven
Shay’s attempts to pummel the punching bag into submission would have been funny if they weren’t so impassioned. Her cheeks were pink with effort and her brow was furrowed. Unfortunately, the bag was winning. Alex positioned himself across from her and steadied it between his hands while she continued to give it everything she had in her.
“Take it easy, kiddo. I appreciate the effort, but this is only your third class. There’s no need to put so much effort into every punch. You don’t have sufficient technique yet. That’s a good way to tear a muscle or stave your wrist. For now, just concentrate on your form.”
He was getting better at this teaching thing. Wasn’t sticking his foot in his mouth nearly as much. It helped a lot that the kids never once asked if he didn’t have something better to do.
When class was over, Gene let Alex have the last word. He corralled them together and asked them to sit down cross-legged while Gene stood in the background, trying to be unobtrusive.
“Always remember: in boxing, as in life, a good attitude is important. You should be willing to learn, respect others, and try your best. Have fun. Don’t be in a hurry. It takes time, but you’re learning a skill for life.”
When class was dismissed, he helped Shay take off her handwraps.
“You were really giving it to that bag today. Couldn’t help but wonder where all that aggression was coming from.” He didn’t want her to know Gene had been talking about her to him or, worse, that her guidance counselor had been the one to suggest she take up boxing to gain confidence.
Shay didn’t respond.
“It’s like Coach Lovatt said at the start of the class. What we’re mainly concerned with here is conditioning. But if someone is giving you a hard time, it’s best to try to talk it out, defuse the situation before it escalates into a physical attack. That’s how police officers are trained to deal with bad guys.”
He glanced at his watch. He was off for the rest of the day. Spring had arrived, his first spring in the Willamette Valley, and with it the first waves of migrating songbirds returning from where they wintered in the south. The evenings were growing lighter. On nights like tonight, when Alex made it home before sunset, he liked to relax on his back patio with a glass of wine and watch to see which species would finally show up at his feeders.
Before class, he couldn’t wait to get home to do just that.
“Where are you headed?” he asked Shay.
“Just back to the cafeteria till it’s time for my mom to pick me and my sisters up.”
“I’ll walk you over.”
The cafeteria echoed with the voices of children in groups at the tables, playing card or board games or just goofing off. Shay chose an empty table at a distance and sat down by herself.
Alex’s heart tugged. He knew how it felt to be shunned. Small and useless. Being rejected by the people whose validation you craved most made you wonder why you had even been born. Where your place was in the world, if there even was such a thing.
“What did you mean about defusing the situation?” Shay asked.
“That was probably a bad example. Your situation is different from being a police officer. We’ve got things we can use to protect ourselves from bullies, like handcuffs and—” No need for a young girl like her to know about TASERs and pepper spray. “All you’ve got is your voice, and the voices of the people who care about you.
“So. The first thing to do when someone is bullying you is to get right in their face and yell, ‘Stop it. I know what you’re doing and I’m not going to take it. I’m going to tell everyone, and they’re going to be watching you.’ ”
“That’s the same thing my mom said.”
“You should listen to her. Your mom’s a very smart lady.”
“How do you know?”
Alex smiled tightly. “I just know.”
“But I’m not like that. Getting in someone’s face is really hard.”
Alex arched a brow. “It might be hard, but I’m telling you, that’s the only way to take back your power.”
Shay twisted her mouth and looked at her feet swinging back and forth.
Alex put his h
and on her back. “See you at practice next week?”
She nodded.
“Okay. Have a good week.” Alex headed back toward the gym as Gene dropped off the rest of the students back at the caf, the designated parental pickup spot.
“Looks like you got a fan,” said Gene as they walked back.
“Shay’s got a strong mother. But every girl should have a male role model, too, to balance it out.”
“Garrett said you were old school. He wasn’t kidding.”
“Something wrong with believing a kid ought to have both a mother and a father?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just not used to hearing someone admit to such a radical point of view in this day and age.”
Chapter Eight
It wasn’t until the Friday of Memorial Day weekend that Kerry finally made good on her promise to take the kids to Ruddock’s.
“I’ll have a burger and fries,” Kerry told the server.
“And to drink? We’re featuring a newly released pinot this weekend.”
“I’ll just have water along with the girls,” said Kerry. “The little one can share my fries, and would you bring her some fruit, too? Chloé? What do you want?”
Chloé peered up through long lashes at the server. “I want whatever Mommy’s having.”
“Coach Walker says everyone should eat five fruits and vegetables a day,” Shay stated matter-of-factly.
Kerry’s relentless drilling into the girls of the need for a balanced diet had always seemed to fall on deaf ears. But since Shay had started boxing lessons, whatever Alex Walker said was gospel.
Chloé frowned at Shay. “Mom said I could get whatever I want and all I want’s a hamburger and french fries, so there.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Shay?” asked Kerry, ignoring their sniping in the interest of her sanity. “What would you like, honey?” Like she had to ask. Ruddock’s juicy cheeseburgers were Shay’s favorite, and the main reason Kerry brought them here.
“I’ll have a hamburger with just catsup, no bun, a green salad, applesauce, and green beans.”
“That’s only four vegetables,” said Chloé.
“You forgot—catsup is made from tomatoes. Besides, I already had carrot sticks and celery sticks for lunch. That makes seven. So there.”
First Comes Love Page 5
