RECLAIM MY HEART(3)

Absently, she reached up and smoothed her fingertips back and forth across her chin. She’d been confident that she knew what Zach was doing with his time.
Until tonight.
And she never would have thought he’d leave the house after curfew. Without telling Rob. Without phoning her.
Zach hadn’t just left the house, the cold voice of reality whispered from somewhere in the back of her brain. He’d snuck out.
She’d be a fool not to acknowledge the truth. Was tonight the first time he’d done such a thing? Or the second? Or the twenty-second?
Doubt twisted in her stomach. She should have left the party earlier tonight. She could have made that happen, but—
“Mrs. Whitlock?”
Tyne snapped to attention. The uniform the female officer wore looked starched enough to stand up straight even if she weren’t in it. The bright overhead lights reflected off her thick hair, the bulk of which had been secured at the back of her head, up off her shoulders.
“I’m Tyne Whitlock.” She stood and approached the woman.
“Officer Perez. Follow me, please.”
“Is my son okay?”
“He’s fine.” The woman turned and made her way along the linoleum tiled hall. “He’s been at my desk while I filed the report. I decided not to lock him in a cell with the others.”
Gratitude rolled through Tyne in a huge wave even as her mouth went dry. She knew she should thank Officer Perez for her kindness, but instead she asked, “Others?”
“The boys your son was with. Three of ’em. They’re older than Zach. By a couple years, at least. And all of them have been picked up before. I’m hoping that spending a little time in confinement might instill a little fear, but who knows with these kids.”
“What did they do?” A fresh rush of dread didn’t allow her to wait for an answer. “Zach didn’t hurt anyone, did he?”
Perez shook her head. “It was a minor offense.”
Tyne exhaled with relief.
“But don’t get the wrong idea,” the officer cautioned, pulling open a door and holding it for her. “Your son is in serious trouble. The boys he was with—”
“Mom?”
Only a mother could understand the flood of emotion that coursed through Tyne’s body when she saw Zach’s face, heard the fear in his voice, witnessed that he was whole and unharmed.
“Take a seat, Mrs. Whitlock.” Officer Perez rounded the desk as she spoke. “And, Zach, I want to thank you for staying put while I was gone.”
When he’d first spied Tyne, Zt dpied Tyach had scooted to the edge of the seat, but now he sank against the black padded chair back. Tyne lowered herself onto the only other chair available in the cubicle. She set her purse on her lap.
“Your son was picked up at the local high school,” Officer Perez began. “He and the others spray-painted graffiti and obscene words on the gymnasium walls.”
“Oh, Zach.” Disappointment snagged in her throat. Her son refused to look at her.
“Mrs. Whitlock, we picked Zach up after eleven.”
Tyne’s attention swung back to the officer.
“Were you aware that your son was out so late?”
The officer’s coal-black eyes were probing and filled to the brim with accusation.
“I was working.” Defensiveness tightened every word. “I had to go in around three this afternoon.” She glanced down at her son, tossing him a quick, narrow-eyed glare. “I’d left dinner for him. And then Rob arrived before nine. They were going to watch the Phillies game.” Tyne spoke swiftly. “When I arrived,” she continued, “it was close to midnight. Rob was asleep on the sofa.”
“So Zach’s father—”
“That jerk isn’t my father.”
Tyne gasped. “Zach!” Her tone was sharp with reproof. “Don’t talk about Rob like that.”
His chin jutted, his mouth a thin slash. He looked so much like his dad in that instance that she had to force herself not to look away.
“Zach, go sit over by the door. I need to speak to your mother.”
Officer Perez’s request was stern enough to brook no argument, and Zach pushed himself from the chair, lumbered across the room.
Tyne glanced down at her lap and saw that her knuckles were white from the death-grip she had on her leather bag. Her insides quaked. “I-I just don’t understand what’s going on,” she murmured, pressing her palm to her forehead and closing her eyes for a brief second. “I don’t know what’s happened to my son.”
“Mrs. Whitlock—”
“It’s Ms.,” Tyne corrected. “Rob and I aren’t married. Yet.” She glanced down at the diamond ring on her left hand. The stone glittered in the harsh fluorescent light and she noticed that she was once again clutching her purse tight enough to make the tendons in her hands stand out rigidly.
“Maybe he should be here with you.”
Officer Perez’s voice was so unexpectedly soft that it drew Tyne’s attention.
“What?”
“Your fiancé,” the officer said. “Would you like for me to call him?”
“No.” Tyne shook her head, looking away.
“I think you could use a little support. He might—”
“No.” She straightened her spine. “I’m fine. Rob has to be up early. I don’t want to bother him. I’m just fine, Officer Perez. I can handle this.”
The woman sitting behind the desk didn’t look convinced.
Like tiny sparks of light, memories flickered through Tyne’s head. Difficult circumstances over the years that—as a single parent—she’d had to handle on her own. Front baby teeth loosened in a fall on the playground. The wrist fractured in a bicycle accident. Teasing that turned into nasty bullying because Zach looked different; he wasn’t white, he wasn’t black, he wasn’t Latino.