CHAPTER 51

TIMOFEY

"No one is here." My voice echoes off the creaky hardwood floors and bare cinderblock walls of the CPS office. "We didn't need to get here this early.

Piper plants a hand on her cocked hip and glares at me. "You don't need to be here at all. I could have come alone."

"No, you couldn't have. Because I told you I was coming with you."

She rolls her eyes. "I needed to make up hours, anyway. I am drowning in cases right now and being 'sick' the last couple days hasn't helped matters. I would've worked overtime the last two days, too. So I did need to be here two hours early."

Now that she mentions it, Piper's desk is overflowing. Folders and files spill out of stackable paper sorters on the corner of her desk. She can barely wedge anything else into the pull-out drawer underneath. In comparison, the other desks in the office look tidy.

"Lots of children to kidnap, so little time."

She huffs out a frustrated sigh. "Let me get some things in order and then I have an on-site visit."

There's a long bench in the back corner with a few stuffed animals and a long pillow. It's situated next to an office with window blinds. It's the room where kids recently removed from their parents' care sit and wait for a temporary placement.

I've sat there too many times to count. In that room, on that bench, or in rooms and on benches similar enough for the difference not to matter. I want nothing to do with them now.

I opt for the rolling chair of the desk across from Piper's.

"Andrea will hate you sitting at her desk," Piper says without looking up.

"Thankfully, we're here in the middle of the night, so Andrea isn't here to care."

Piper smashes her lips into a hard line, but doesn't respond. The silence continues for the next hour as she reads through files, organizes them into three piles I don't know the significance of, and drops a few into the recycle bin. I watch her the whole time.

Finally, as I'm finishing the last of my coffee, she shoves a file in her purse and turns to face me.

"I have an on-site visit. You can wait here or head back to the house. I'll meet you there when I get off later."

I grab the keys to my motorcycle and stand up. "No need. I'll come with you."

"Timofey, please," she sighs. "Whatever point you're trying to make, you've made it. You have the upper hand. I'll do what you want. I'll play the role you want. Just let me do my job."

"I'm so glad you've seen the reason."

She frowns. "Does that mean you'll let me finish out the day on my own?"

I snap my fingers in an aw shucks motion. "Damn. Maybe you haven't seen the reason, after all."

She levels me with a glare and stomps towards the door. I follow after her on a slow stroll. I have the keys. She isn't going anywhere without me.

Besides, the view from back here is pleasant. Piper is in a knee-length wool dress today. It's modest enough when she's standing up, but when she mounts my bike and straddles my hips, there is nothing modest about the long stretch of thigh wrapped around my body.

It suits me more than it ought to.

* * *

This part of the city is a shithole. As we near the address Piper gave me, we veer around potholes and roadkill. Trash clogs the gutters and more houses look abandoned than not.

Piper presses herself against my back, her mouth close to my ear. "This is going to be a tough case. I know you're here to punish me or annoy me—maybe both—but I don't want to make things worse for these kids."

I didn't realize until now that she would be dealing directly with the children involved. It doesn't change anything for me. Because my motives here are not purely malicious like she might think.

"This is research. It's been almost two decades since I had any contact with a CPS agent."

I swallow down the resentment boiling inside of me at memories I do my best to never touch. Maybe things have changed since I was a kid.

I hope they have.

I pull the motorcycle along the curb of a rundown duplex. The small square of lawn in front is dried and brown.

Aluminum foil is pressed into the upstairs windows to block the sun. Where a garden might have been along the front facade, there's instead a graveyard of faded plastic toys.

Suddenly, I'm back in the trailer my mother moved us to after Dad died. I see the dark-haired CPS man with the mustache blocking all the light from the front door, his shadow stretched long over our empty living room.

He haunted our house like a demon. Every time he showed up, a little more of my mother disappeared.

"Are you coming inside?" Piper asks from the sidewalk.

I blink back to reality. I didn't even feel her get off the bike.

I see the blinds in the front window move. A little head pokes out for just a second to watch us in the street. Then it disappears.

I prop the kickstand up and sit down on the leather seat. "I'll stay here for now."

"But you said—" Piper shakes her head and backs away. "You know what? Never mind. I'm not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. I'll be back soon."

Her heels tap up the cracked front sidewalk. After only a few knocks, the front door swings open. A little girl no older than seven stands barefoot in the doorway. Her dirty hair is falling out of a lopsided braid.

Piper bends down to the girl's level, shakes her hand, and then steps inside.

Staying out here was the right call, I tell myself. I don't want to play any role in what those kids are going through. I'm the lead figure in many people's nightmares, I know that, but I'm not going to unintentionally terrorize a bunch of kids.

I'm outside for a few minutes when I hear a raised voice.

It's a male.

Coming from inside the house.

And angry.