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So, is it considered stalking when you’re required to be somewhere, but you end up arriving early just to watch her read in her car. I’ve seen her out of her car a time or two and I would say she’s a good five foot one, compared to my six foot. She’s got reddish brown hair and a pale skin tone, she has a bit of a tan to her, but all the red head people I’ve ever met can’t seem to tan. She’s got an ample set of boobs, and a well rounded ass. My kinda woman.
I wondered at first why someone would show up so early to wait for their child. Then, I figured that she probably wants to get out of here and drop him at the baby sitter’s so that she can get to work on time. But, why not just let him ride the bus? After about a week of watching I realized that she was too jumpy to be wanting to get to work. She would read a page or two and then look around. Everytime another car pulled up or someone walked by her car she would look up to see who was there.
Today she’s not here and when all the kids have been picked up one of the teachers approaches me and says there’s one car rider that’s not been picked up and he’s super scared. Most of the kids that don’t get picked up by three thirty go to a daycare in the school where parents pay for babysitting. However, this one’s mom doesn’t usually miss picking him up. I suggest to the teacher that we put him in the daycare and I’ll hang around and speak to the parent that picks him up. Except, by the time the school closes he’s not picked up. This is becoming more of a case of child abandonment. I pay for the day care, and we load up into my cruiser, I grab the car seat out of the trunk of my unit and place it in the back seat for the little man. I never thought I’d have a reason to use the car seat when I started on the force years ago, but it has seen its fair share of kids needing removed from accidents, parents, and now a school.
On the ride over I get to know the boy I try to calm him down as I can see he is getting even more nervous that his mom hasn’t come to pick him up. He looks totally different from his mom; she’s a reddish-brown and he’s got blonde hair with blue eyes. His skin is nicely tanned and she is an alabaster for a dark haired woman. He’s also tall for his age compared to her short stature. I explain that both the school and I will let her know where he is at and if anything changes I will notify her of the changes. We get to the station and I take him into the squad room where I ask him several questions about where he lives, and his parents’ names. As he answers the questions I gauge his responses. He gives me his mom’s name and I enter it on the paperwork, when I ask his dad’s name he looked sad and said his dad’s name, however he said, “he lives in heaven.” I ask him where he lives, and the address sounds familiar, but I’m exhausted and don’t make the connection to the address. I know the little man has got to be hungry, so I take him out for a quick bite, followed by a quick stop at a store that sells children’s clothes, so that the other kids won’t make fun of him for wearing the same outfit two days in a row. Then I’ve arranged to take him to my place for the night. I’ve got duty in the morning at the school and I can make sure he gets there in the morning. Then I’ll start to check on this mysterious mom.
As we eat I notice that he’s almost as jumpy as his mom, he’s very attentive and I feel that he’s hiding something about his mother, but I don’t dare address it tonight. We sit in near silence. He has calmed down some since I chose a booth where we can’t have anyone sneak up behind us its my favorite booth in this pizza joint it has a horseshoe shape and is meant for larger parties, however they know me and how I hate having my back to people, so they almost always seat me there. Little Luke eats four slices of pizza before saying he’s full. While I’m watching him and the door I keep running over the address he gave me. I decide to drive by the house and check it out before heading home.
Why had I volunteered to watch this little tyke? I know what its like to be in the system. I drive to the address that this little boy has given me as his home. I start to recognize the area and when I pull into the drive and I’m staring at a lifted Silverado, and I realize that it’s my friend Chris’. I leave my cruiser running and go to the door. I use the key Chris gave me a few years back in case I needed a place to crash, or needed to check on his wife. I turn the key in the door not hearing any movement from inside, I grab my side arm turn on the flashlight and slowly open the door. What I see as my eyes adjust to the darkened room makes me angry. The house looks ransacked and there is proof of a fight. Blood smears down the hall door. I open it only to find a trail of blood leading into the hall bathroom. That’s when I hear a groan coming from the hall bathroom. I try to open the door and find it locked I pick the lock and once I can somewhat open it I find that the door is also wedged closed. I can get up to my elbow in the door, so I use my night stick to move whatever is blocking the door after I’ve assessed it to make sure it’s not a person.
Once the door is open I still hear the weak moan there in the darkest corner of the room is the bathtub. The moan comes again, and I open the shower curtain and see her curled in a ball lying in the tub. As I shine my light over her body I’ve instinctively made the domestic violence call to dispatch. I grab gloves out of my pocket and turn on the hall light. I don’t want to hurt her eyes by turning on the bathroom light until necessary.
When she looks up at me semi acknowledging my presence I see her eyes are mostly swollen, and one of her arms is already swelling. I ask her if the person who did this is still here and she shakes her head no wincing at the pain. I excuse myself to check on her son. I know he’s safe sitting in my cruiser, but I need air.