Stealing Silence(2)
It wasn’t until they left the ring of light cast by the greenhouse, that she saw them. A police squad car sat in the dark and leaning against the hood was Captain Anderson, the local constabulary. The guard dragged her forward and pushed her to the ground in front of the captain. “Here she is, Mitch! Finally we have caught the thief.” He spat the words like a curse. “This one is the mastermind behind the food thefts. Caught her red handed and on camera too! The interior camera shows her stuffing blueberries into her mouth and the evidence of the theft is on her sweater.”
Mitch turned to Avalon and said “Turn out your pockets,” in a quiet voice. The guard grinned and shone the light on her.
“Pretty damn hard to do, when I am handcuffed,” Avalon smirked, twisting around to show him her wiggling fingers.
He frowned and gestured to the guard to unlock her hands, which he did with a muttered complaint. “She is a sly one, Captain. I really think you should keep her locked up.”
“I will take your advice under consideration.” He focused on Avalon. “Now, turn out your pockets.”
With a cheeky grin, she turned her pockets inside out, displaying the purple mashed remains of the blueberries. “It was just a snack, one that has been thoroughly ruined by Godzilla, here.” The guard gave her an ugly look and hitched his pants higher over his protruding stomach.
“Look, Captain! I have your evidence. Look what she stole!” he said, proffering the bag of stolen food. She took it from the greenhouse, Captain! She is the thief!”
“Thank you, I will take it from here. Shouldn’t you be securing the greenhouse? Fifty more starving urchins could have descended like a swarm of locusts on the greenhouse in the time you have stood here, advising me on my job. You’re dismissed.”
The guard straightened and a look of horror flashed across his face. “You are so right, sir!” and he ran back into the light of the greenhouses, yelling at the top of his lungs.
Avalon grinned at the retreating guard, and then her smile dropped as she focused on the captain.
“Avalon, what am I going to do with you? You cannot steal food anymore. This has to stop. Why are you back here again?” Crossing his arms, he looked so much like a kindly father, with his crown of thick grey hair and a craggy lined face. He was the kind of father she wished she had. Despite his age, he was a muscled man, and towered over her five foot frame. The crown of her dark silky hair barely came to his shoulder and she had to crane her neck to look him in the eye. She didn’t bother, until he put a finger under her chin and tilted her head back. “This time, you will have to come in. This time it means jail time.”
Panic clutched at her throat and she swallowed painfully. “But I can’t go in, Mitch. I can’t!” She backed up a step and he grabbed her arm. Avalon winced under the pressure of his fingers as they contacted the bruises rising on her arm. Mitch lightened his hold but did not let go.
“I’m sorry, but you must come with me this time.” He pulled her toward the squad car and pushed her into the back seat, before climbing behind the wheel.
Avalon’s eyes scanned the handle-less interior and the fledgling panic gripped her in earnest. “Mitch, please, let me out. I can’t go with you! Let me out!”
“Not this time, Avalon.”
He engine purred to life as he turned the key. The headlights swung in a crazy arch and he drove off toward the police station, with a quietly sobbing Avalon in tow.
Chapter 2
Jail Time
MITCH DROVE THE SQUAD car around the back of the small police station, pulling up under the portico that served as the prisoner entrance for the hundred year old red brick building. The police station had seen better days. When the town had been prosperous, before the current ills had assailed the town, the station has boasted ten squad cars and as many police officers and support staff. With the decline in the population of Melona to one-tenth of its population during the heyday of the farming community, the officers had moved on with their families into the bigger cities, where food could be found more readily.
He turned off the engine then twisted in his seat to look at his prisoner. The skinny girl looked to be ten or twelve years old, a street urchin who had never had a home as far as he could tell. He could give her a bed and a hot meal for a change, even if it was in a jail cell. She huddled on the seat, knees drawn up to chin and head buried between her arms. Her shoulders shook. Against his better instincts, he felt his heart go out to her. Food was impossible to find at the best of times when one lived on the street. These were not the best of times.
With a sigh, he shouldered open the door and got out of the car, then opened the back door and held out his hand. “Avalon, come.”
She raised a defiant, tear streaked face to him, dropping her knees and sliding across the seat. She ignored his hand, scrambling out of the car on feet that looked poised to run. She bounced slightly on her toes and her eyes darted around as though searching for the best escape route. “Don’t try it, Avalon. I will hoist you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes if you even think of running.”
Her eyes widened in shock, furious. Then her shoulders slumped and she nodded, defeated for the moment.
“After you,” he said, gesturing toward the metal door where light spilled through a square of reinforced glass.