Before She Was Found(56)

“It’s okay, Violet.” Officer Grady leads us to the ambulance and I reach for her hand but she pulls away and then I see the small crowd that has gathered.

“Fuck,” Max says under his breath. I want to pinch him for swearing out loud but I feel the same way. “Where did they come from?” About half a dozen people have gathered just outside the train yard.

“They probably heard about it on the scanner,” Officer Grady explains, disgusted as I am about the ghoulishness of the onlookers.

“Just ignore them,” I murmur. “Pretend you don’t see them and get in the car.” Heads down, with Violet between us, we hurry toward the cars.

“Be careful now,” a voice calls out from the crowd. “Joseph Wither might be around here somewhere.” Nervous laughter comes from the crowd.

“Don’t listen to them,” I say through clenched teeth but Violet looks around frantically.

“I think he’s over there,” the voice calls and I scan the crowd looking for the idiot bent on scaring my daughter. Clint Phelps. He keeps showing up like a bad penny.

Max looks like he’s going to explode. “Stay put,” I tell him. Clint gives me one of his famous smirks and it’s all I can do not to walk over to him and knock it from his face.

“Or maybe over there.” Clint tosses his chin toward the winter wheat.

“Shut up, Clint,” Max says. Tears roll down Violet’s face as two EMTs begin to move cautiously toward us. I don’t like where this is going. I don’t like it at all.

“Does he knock at your window at night?” Clint singsongs. “Does he come and sit on your bed? He’s coming for you next.”

Max has had enough. “Asshole,” he says as he rushes toward Clint and barrels into him. As Officer Grady moves to break up the fight between Clint and Max, the EMTs approach Violet, who looks wild with fear.

“I don’t want to go,” Violet cries and to my horror pulls out my canister of pepper spray.

“Violet, put that down,” I order. To the EMTs I beg, “Please don’t hurt her. She’s just scared.”

“We’re not going to hurt her, ma’am,” the female EMT tells me. “We’re trying to keep her safe. Now please move back.” Reluctantly, I move away from my daughter. The EMT says to Violet, “I know you’re upset. That boy said some mean things and that scared you.”

I glance over at Max and Clint and see that Officer Grady has stepped in to separate Max and Clint but I notice, with some satisfaction, that Clint has a bloody lip. I just pray that Max doesn’t get arrested for assault. Or Violet for that matter.

“Violet, my name is Laura, and this is Ray,” says one of the EMTs. “We’re here to help you, okay?” Violet slowly retreats until her back is pressed against the boxcar, the pepper spray still clutched in her hand.

“Please, Violet,” I beg, “don’t run. Please put down the pepper spray.” I’m crying and the sight of my tears seems to have gotten through to Violet. She slowly lowers her hand.

Officer Grady stands between the two boys, arms outstretched to form a barrier. “You saw him tackle me,” Clint gripes.

“Go sit in your car,” Officer Grady orders Max. “Now.” Max, breathing heavily, looks at Clint like he’d like to get in one more punch but thinks better of it and throws open the car door, climbs inside and slams it so hard the window shakes. “You—” Officer Grady points at Clint “—are going to the station.”

“What did I do?” Clint protests. In one swift move he turns Clint around, pushes him against the car and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. “You see that little girl?” Clint darts his eyes to Violet, who has thrown the canister to the side and slid to the ground into a pitiful heap. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“You are interfering with official acts,” Officer Grady snaps. “You can sit at the station until your mom comes to pick you up. And if you keep arguing, I will arrest you.” This seems to do the trick and Clint finally shuts up.

The EMT squats down next to Violet and speaks to her in a soothing tone. “It’s okay, Violet. No one is going to hurt you. Take two deep breaths. Can you do that?” Violet gives a long, shuddering breath, then another, but her body is still tense. “Good job, Violet. Good job. Now, do you think you can sit up?” Violet nods and pushes herself into a sitting position. “Nice work, Violet,” the EMT says. “You let me know when you’re ready to stand up, okay?” Violet peeks up from beneath her veil of hair and looks relieved to find that the crowd is gone.

After Officer Grady has placed Clint in the back of one of the cop cars he walks toward us slowly, as if he’s approaching a frightened bird with a broken wing. “What happens now?” I ask him. “What are they going to do?”

“Protocol is they have to take her to the hospital.”

“But she’s fine now. See? Please don’t do this.” The EMTs have helped Violet to her feet and are guiding her toward the ambulance. She looks dazed, sleepy. “Did they give her something? A sedative?”

“I don’t think so. Sedating a patient is a last resort. Sometimes, after an outburst, they can be pretty tired.” This isn’t a surprise to me. When she was younger, after Violet had her tantrums, she would crash for a good hour or two. What is a surprise to me is that Officer Grady called Violet a patient.