Sandra Orchard - Shades of Truth

“Some kid out bah-hawing, I expect.” Aaron’s lips pressed into a flat line as if he might have a particular kid in mind. He unlocked the door to the staff station—a glass-walled peninsula from which the entire unit could be viewed. Each unit consisted of a common room with a nailed-down sofa, TV and game tables, a washroom, a laundry room and a line of bedrooms, lockable only from the outside. The residents were in morning classes, so the unit was empty.

“You get a lot of kids from the area driving crazy on these back roads?”

“You know how it is. Boys will be boys.”

“Hmm.” Ethan found the first-aid kit and swabbed his palm with disinfectant.

Aaron pulled a bag of ice from a small fridge in the corner, and then waved to a plate of muffins on the desk. “Help yourself. Kim’s mom is always baking for the staff and residents. How she copes with stress, Mr. Corbett once told me.” Aaron rubbed his stomach. “I think we’ve all gained ten pounds since he took ill.” He handed Ethan the ice. “Here you go. Can you find your own way back?”

“Sure, but—” Ethan’s gaze flicked to the glass partition. His mind buzzed with possible reasons Aaron might want to hang back in an empty unit. None of them aboveboard. “Didn’t you want to see Kim?”

Aaron unlocked the door and motioned him to exit. “I’ll see her later, tonight.”

Ethan frowned. Not that who Kim saw in her free time was any of his business … unless the person was connected to his case, which Aaron very well could be. It was more believable than thinking Kim was on the wrong side of the law.

But before Ethan could ask another question, Aaron prodded him out the door. Definitely suspicious. Ethan hurried to the locker room. At least with Darryl fielding a phone call, he’d get his chance to question Kim alone.

Raised voices stopped his hand midknock. Two voices. One female—Kim’s. One male.

He strained to hear what they were saying, but the male voice dropped to an angry hiss.

“No—” Kim cried, and slamming of metal on metal swallowed the rest of her words.

Ethan twisted the knob uselessly and pounded the door. “Hey, open up.”

The door jerked open, and Kim’s brother stood on the other side, teeth gritted.

Because of the phone call? Or something else?

Ethan pushed his way inside, his gaze sweeping the room. “What’s going on?”

“I’m being sent home.” Kim hooked a padlock onto the door he’d heard slam, and then stalked to a wooden bench. She’d changed into a fresh green T-shirt that did amazing things for her eyes. Or maybe the disagreement with her brother had brought out those fiery flecks.

Darryl snatched up the ice bag and tossed it to Kim. “Now keep that foot elevated until Ginny gets here.” He ignored Kim’s long-suffering sigh. “Come on, Ethan. I’ll take you to admissions. We have a resident due back from court. I can show you how we process arrivals.”

Terrific. He’d have to bide his time until he got another chance to interrogate Kim.

A crackly voice shouted, “Yard. Now,” over Darryl’s walkie-talkie.

Kim scooped the ice bag off her foot. “Go ahead, Darryl. Ethan and I can handle the incoming.”

Ethan reached to help her up, but she brushed his hand aside, as if her injury was of no concern.

“When an incident with a resident escalates,” she explained, leading the way through the maze of corridors, “you shout now and your location into your walkie-talkie to summon help. It doesn’t happen that often, but between my taking up yours and Darryl’s time and Tony off, we’re a little short staffed.”

“Who’s Tony?”

“One of our full-timers. He called in sick just before his shift this morning.”

This morning, huh? Ethan made a mental note to look up Tony’s address and pay him a visit. Check out his taillights. “Has he worked here long?”

“Since the place opened.”

“That long? He must’ve been upset when the board hired a new guy as deputy director instead of promoting senior staff.” Maybe upset enough to look at making some money on the side with a homegrown drug ring.

She shrugged, but her puckered brow suggested the possibility bothered her. Or was it the manor’s uncertain future?

“Here we are.” She unlocked the admission room connected to a sally port—an entrance rigged to secure the outer door before the inner door opened.

The musty odor that seeped into the corridor resurrected memories he’d willed himself to forget. He braced his hands on the door frame, one foot bridging the threshold, the other cemented to the hall. He felt sixteen again, teetering on the edge of a sinkhole that threatened to swallow him from the inside out. The humiliation of being restrained. The loneliness as weeks passed without a visitor. The remorse that gnawed at him day and night.

“Ethan? Are you okay?”

Kim’s voice jerked him back to the present. “Yes.” He gave his head a hard shake. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“Is it your hand?”

“What?” He pulled his hand from the door frame and looked at the bandage. Come to think of it, it was throbbing.

“Maybe you should have the nurse—”

“It’s fine.” He stepped into the room and moved toward the window overlooking the attached garage. If he expected to gain her trust, he needed to utilize every available minute, not fuss over a couple of puncture wounds.

“Sounds like my bigger concern should be how long my new job’s gonna be around.” He propped his hip on the side of the desk. “Maybe I should help you with your petition.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” The sun seemed to rise in her eyes, and Ethan regretted that his offer had more strings attached than a trussed-up turkey. “Although I am curious why your brother is opposed to the idea. Is that what had him so riled back there?”

Kim sank wearily into the chair. “I don’t know. He used to talk to me, but lately …” Her gaze shifted to the thick-paned window. “I guess we all deal with grief in our own way.”

“I heard your father has cancer, and that it’s bad. I’m sorry.” Hoping he wasn’t pushing his luck, Ethan reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Darryl will come around. You’ll see.” The slight relaxing of her muscles beneath his fingers left him fighting the temptation to let his hand linger. He took a step back. “So, who do we have coming in?”

“Um, I think it’s Mel.” She double-checked the sign-in book. “Yes, Melvin Reimer.”

“What can you tell me about him?”

“He’s fifteen. A good kid, really. Comes from a stable family, but he had a hard time making friends at school.”

“Let me guess. He got sucked into a gang.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been urging him to get out.”

“The gang’s not going to let that happen.”

“It’s not their choice. It’s his. And he’s matured a lot in the months he’s been here, which is only one example of why it’s so important to do everything we can to make sure the government doesn’t shut us down.”

Ethan chose not to dispute the Pollyanna view. Her optimism was kind of refreshing. “Did Melvin have a parole hearing this morning?”

“No, a group conference between his family and the victim’s. This was a big step for him. He wanted the opportunity to apologize, ask for forgiveness and achieve some sort of reconciliation.”

“Wow, that takes guts.”

The rumble of the garage door rattled the windows. A police cruiser pulled inside. After the door closed behind the vehicle, the officer extracted a tall, lanky kid from the backseat, his hands and feet shackled.

Kim pushed to her feet, a proud smile curving her lips. “The kids call him Beanpole.”