Tone Deaf(71)

My dad spots the officers, and his brows raise in surprise. Then he lets his smile grow, excuses himself from the airport security guard, and turns toward his colleagues. I watch his lips as he greets them: “What are you boys doing here? You’re a little late to the party, you know.” He smiles down at me and pats my shoulder a bit too hard. “I’ve already found my Ali.”

The two officers exchange utterly uncomfortable looks. For a moment, I think they’re just intimidated by talking to their retired chief. But then a girl steps out from the crowd, and none of the security tries to stop her. My breath catches as I recognize her: it’s Avery. Avery’s mom strides forward next, followed by her father. They all look deadly serious as they stand next to the officers.

One of the officers steps closer, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. He looks my dad right in the eye as he says, “Chief Patterson, sir . . . I’m afraid you’re under arrest.”

I blink a couple times, certain that I’d misread his lips. But then the officer reaches for the pair of handcuffs at his waist, and I realize this is really happening.

My dad smirks, but beneath the cocky expression, I see a tinge of worry. “Come on now. You can’t be serious.”

I hold my breath as I wait for their response. Avery’s parents have tried reporting my dad multiple times, but they’re always brushed off, just like me. So why should this time be any different?

The officer nods curtly. “Yes, sir, I’m very serious.”

My heart stops beating for a long second, and then starts pounding wildly. Holy shit. This is for real.

My dad’s hand tightens on my shoulder until it hurts. “What charges could you possibly be arresting me on?”

A moment of uncertain silence passes, and then the second officer steps forward, finally finding his voice. “Child abuse.”

The worry in my dad’s eyes pushes closer to the surface. “Those charges have already been looked into and dismissed. They’re bogus.”

Avery’s mouth opens in a disbelieving scoff, and she snaps, “We have six people who say differently.”

“Six?”

Everyone turns to me, and I realize I’m the one who blurted out the question. Avery smiles at me and nods. “Yeah, six.”

This makes no sense. The only people who have ever dared to confront my dad are Avery and her parents. Everyone else has always turned a blind eye to my abuse, all of them too scared to face my dad’s wrath. It’s impossible that six people have stepped forward.

“Is this true?” my dad asks the officers.

The first one nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Who’s claiming I’ve abused my daughter?”

The second officer squares his shoulders and says, “You know we can’t tell you that, Mr. Patterson.”

I almost start laughing right then. He’d called my dad Mr. Patterson. Not Chief Patterson, but Mr. Patterson. Little bubbles of giddiness inflate my head, and I shake off my dad’s grip. He doesn’t dare to stop me, and I stride to Avery’s side. She reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. I squeeze her hand back, letting her know I’m fine. Hell, I’m more than fine. I’m freaking, flipping, flying wonderful.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. I watch the officers step forward and read my dad his Miranda rights as they handcuff him. They lead him away, and my dad doesn’t resist. He’s still trying to reason with the officers and get them to let him go. But the officers won’t listen. As they approach the exit, my dad glares over his shoulder at me. He doesn’t even try to hide his rage. I just turn away.

The doors close behind my dad, and I turn and tackle Avery into a hug, laughing through a new rush of tears. No one tries to stop our celebration, and Avery’s parents even join in on the hug. I’m surrounded by people who care, and for the first time in years, there’s no one to get in the way.

I wipe a happy tear out of my eye and sign, “Who are the six people?”

Avery quickly signs back, “My parents, me, two of your teachers, and one of your former doctors.”

I shake my head. “Why now? People have always been too afraid to say anything.”

“A certain musician convinced them otherwise,” she signs as a grin overtakes her expression.

My stomach does a happy little flip. “Jace?”

Avery nods. “He called me last night and explained everything. We had to scramble, but we managed to get all six witnesses together. After that, it was just a matter of filing an emergency case with CPS. The police took care of everything else.”

I tackle her into another hug. “Thank you.”

She squeezes me back, and then pulls away to sign, “Don’t thank me. Thank Jace. This never would have happened without him.”

I grin, but then the expression falters as the truth slams into me: I’m still seventeen. I’ll still need to be in someone’s custody for the next couple of months, and that probably means being shoved into the foster system.

Avery takes my hands and says, “What’s the matter?”

“Where am I going to go now?” I ask. “I mean, if I’m not with my dad . . .”

She rolls her eyes, like this is officially the dumbest question she’s ever heard. “You’ll stay with me, of course. My parents are going to file paperwork to be your legal guardians.”