Beth Andrews - Do You Take This Cop?

“That’s not necessary,” she assured him, tossing the apple core into the garbage can in the corner. “It’ll only take a min—”

“I don’t want him to lead me into battle,” Nick interrupted. There he was, trying to do her a favor, and she acted as if she didn’t trust him around her kid. “If it makes you feel better, why don’t you point me in the general direction of the basement? I’m sure with a map, a compass and maybe a decent GPS unit, I’ll find my way before nightfall.”

“That won’t be necessary.” But her tone indicated it wasn’t altogether out of the realm of possibility, either.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Austin said. “I’ll show him.”

He jumped off the stool and Nick followed him to a door at the end of the room. Austin flipped on a light and led the way down the wooden stairs, trailing his hand along the stone walls as he descended. The farther down they went, the cooler it got. And the mustier it smelled.

Nick followed Austin past the washer and dryer, a furnace that had to be at least as old as his mother, and a few large plastic totes that had “Winter Clothes” printed neatly on the sides. That was it for storage.

He set his toolbox down, opened the lid and took out his trouble light. “I take it your mom’s not the sentimental type?”

Austin wiped the back of his hand under his nose. “Huh?”

Spotting an outlet, Nick plugged the hanging light in and flipped it on. Laid it on the floor, where light shot up onto Austin’s pale face. The kid sure didn’t spend much time outside. When Nick was Austin’s age, he’d already turned two shades darker. Of course, his olive complexion tanned easily, whereas Austin seemed to take after his fair-skinned mother. That and his eyes were about the only similarities between mother and son.

“Sentimental. You know, mushy about baby clothes and old toys. Most moms keep everything from drawings you made when you were three, to your first lost tooth, to all your report cards.”

His mother’s basement wasn’t half this size, but she’d managed to stuff it with a whole lot more than Faith had. Hell, when Nick had gone down last winter to change her furnace filter, he’d spied his old hockey skates. Why did women hold on to stuff like that?

Austin shrugged. “My mom’s not like that. She says the most important thing is that we’re together, not holding on to material things.”

And if that wasn’t a direct quote from Faith, Nick would eat his badge.

“Your mom’s right. People are more important than things.” Although he couldn’t imagine any mother who didn’t have at least a small box of keepsakes. But if Faith had one, she didn’t keep it in this eerily empty basement. “And now you have more room to store all your winter stuff.” When Austin stared at him blankly, Nick added, “Things like your sleds, shovels, boots and hats and gloves. Not to mention all your holiday decorations.”

“We don’t have any of that,” Austin said.

Nick searched for somewhere to hang his light, trying not to reveal what he was thinking. It was weird they didn’t have any winter gear. Weird, but hardly illegal, or any reason for his instincts to be kicking in. There could be a reasonable explanation. “I take it you’ve never lived up north during winter before? Never been around snow?”

Austin shook his head—either as a negative response or to flip his hair out of his eyes. “Nah, I’ve seen snow. We had a shovel and I even had a sled when we lived in Serenity Springs and—”

Guilt and panic, two emotions Nick saw often when he interrogated suspects, flashed across Austin’s face. Apprehension, suspicion, tickled the back of Nick’s neck. He rubbed at it but the tickle wouldn’t go away.

He wasn’t going to interrogate the kid—just ask him a few questions. Maybe get a feel for the real story behind Faith’s secretiveness. What was the worst that could happen? If he was wrong, getting the kid to talk about himself wouldn’t hurt anything.

Hey, he was a cop. He justified using sneaky tactics all the time.

“What kind of sled did you have?” Nick asked.

“A round, plastic one,” Austin muttered, staring at the floor.

“My nephew has one of those,” he said, giving up on hanging his light. Hopefully, it’d cast enough of a glow from the floor for him to see what he was doing. “That thing really flies.”

“Yeah, it was sweet.” The boy scratched at a scab on his knee. “I don’t have it anymore. We, uh, decided to move, and I couldn’t take it with us.”

“You must’ve had a ton of stuff if you couldn’t find room for a sled that size.”

“Mom said it would be easier to buy a new one.”

“Can’t argue with that logic. Better watch out,” Nick said. “I’m going to turn the water on to see if I can figure out where the leak came from.”

“It came from the bottom.”

“You sure? Not from any of the pipes or maybe this faucet?” He squatted and pointed to the brass faucet at the bottom of the tank.

Austin squatted, too, mimicking Nick’s stance. “Nah. It sort of poured out of the bottom.”

“Let’s double-check.”

He stood, reached up and twisted a handle. No sooner had he moved back than water streamed out from the bottom of the tank.

“Damn.” Nick stepped over the water to shut off the valve again.

“Told you,” Austin gloated. “Sir,” he added quickly, when Nick glanced over his shoulder at him. But Nick noticed he was fighting a grin.

Which was good. The times he’d been around Austin, the kid had seemed too serious. Too mature.

Neither of which any nine-year-old boy worth his salt should be.

Having already figured out the water heater was toast, Nick stepped over the small puddle of water. “Got any towels handy so I can clean up this mess?”

“Sure.” Austin ran off, coming back almost immediately with a large bath towel.

“Thanks.” Nick knelt and mopped up the water. “Do you play baseball? We have a short rec league that starts soon. Sign-ups are this weekend if you’re interested.”

Longing filled Austin’s eyes. “I don’t play baseball.”

“No? What about midget football? Or if you’re into skating, we have a youth hockey league—”

“No!” Austin’s hands were now fisted at his sides, his shoulders rigid, his lips a thin line. “I mean…no, thank you. I…I don’t want to play any sports.”

“Hey, it’s no problem.”

Austin nodded and blew out a breath. Either he had a personal—and vehement—hatred of organized sports or there was a whole lot more going on with this kid than Nick had realized.

“So, you’ve lived in a lot of difference places?” Nick asked. Austin shrugged, which Nick took to mean yes. “How are you liking it here?”

“It’s okay.”

“Where did you live before you moved to Kingsville?”

When he got no response, Nick glanced up. Austin shrugged again. “Just around.”

Nick tightened his grip on the towel. Obviously Austin took after his mother in more ways than just his eye color. Trying to get to know him was like trying to convince Britney to stop dressing like a sixteen-year-old pop star. Both were exercises in futility.

And frustrating as hell.

“Around, huh? What about that town you mentioned earlier? Serenity Springs? How long did you—”

“I have to go,” Austin said, his face red, his eyes suspiciously shiny.

Nick straightened, the wet towel in his hand dripping onto his shoe as he watched Austin race up the stairs. You’d have thought he’d suggested the kid go play in traffic or something.

He walked to the washing machine and dropped the towel into an empty laundry basket. There was something going on with Faith and Austin. The kid had looked so guilty when he’d mentioned Serenity Springs, it was as if he’d just blurted out a state secret.