“I’m not your son!” he shouted, thrashing to get out of her arms. He looked to his mother. Blood ran out of her nose and a fresh cut marred her cheek. “Mom!” He thrashed again, but the officer held him tight.

“She’s going to be fine,” said the officer holding him. “We’ll get him away from her.”

Dad did that to Mom? He shook his head. No. Bruises maybe, but he’d never make her bleed.

The female officer climbed off his father, leaving him on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind his back. “Fucking bitch!” his father shouted. “You have no right to do this in my home !”

The female cop ignored his father and wiped the sweat off her forehead as she turned and smiled. “You won’t need to worry about your father tonight.”

He stood stock-still, staring at the officer. They were arresting his father for nothing, and she was smiling? “Get out!” he shouted at her.

Her face fell, the smile vanished, and her eyes narrowed at him. She pointed at his mother. “Do you see her face?”

“He didn’t do that! You did it!”

“No, your neighbors called us because your mother was screaming so loud.”

“You’re a liar!” he screamed. He wrestled to get his arms free, but the female officer holding him was unnaturally strong.

The female who’d lied to him exchanged looks with the other officers and rolled her eyes. His dad was right. Women shouldn’t be in power. It went against nature.

“Fucking bitch,” he shrieked. He’d never spoken such ugly words.

“Sir? I can help you now.” The agent’s words interrupted his memory.

He opened his eyes. The female agent was looking at him, curiosity in her gaze. Had she already called him? Anger and embarrassment drove through him and his face heated. Every cell in his body told him to turn around and leave. Walk out. Don’t give in to the female.

But he needed his plates renewed.

He swallowed hard and stepped up to her window. The whore with the black eyeliner had left and he hadn’t noticed.

How long did I stand there with my eyes shut?

He slid his numbered ticket across the counter. “My plates have expired. I moved recently and I think the new stickers have been lost in the mail.”

Her lips smiled but the kindness didn’t touch her eyes. “I can help you with that.” She was mousy-looking. Fine bones, limp brown hair, and no makeup. She blinked too much, but her fingers moved with precision on her keyboard. This was the correct type of position for a woman. She serves. The public has demands, and she fulfills them.

She reminded him of his mother—in the good years before they took away his father. In the years following his father’s conviction, his mother had tried to become one of them: a woman who bossed others around. He’d set her straight. If his father had been alive, he would have been proud.

He exhaled and counted backward from ten. His blood still boiled from the place-cutting whore and the childhood memory. The meek woman’s actions calmed him as she worked efficiently behind the counter to meet his needs. She didn’t stare at his scars.

This is how it should be.

24

Mason knocked on the door of Tana Britton’s Eugene home and children’s voices immediately shouted. He glanced at Ray.

“She’s got three kids,” said Ray.

Mason nodded. After a review of the witness statements from the Eugene shooting, Tana’s had stood out as giving the best description of the shooter. Over the phone she’d agreed to talk to the investigators in her home. The door opened and the spicy scent of tacos touched his nose. His stomach rumbled, and he was thankful he and Ray had agreed to grab a late dinner after the interview. Tana had a baby on a hip and a larger child clinging to her leg. Down the hall behind her, a baby crawled as fast as he could toward the door, determined to join his mother. Mason looked from the baby on her hip to the baby on the floor.

“Yes, they’re twins,” Tana stated. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her brown eyes were surprisingly calm for those of a mother with three young children. The girl attached to Tana’s leg blinked at him with eyes identical to her mother’s. A mini-me. Tana glanced behind her to locate the other twin and then carefully stepped back. “Come in.”

Ray pointed at the boy on the floor. “Can I?” he asked Tana. She nodded.

He deftly scooped up the boy. “Hey, big guy.” The baby stared solemnly at him.

“That’s Lane. This is his sister Cora and the big sister, Ellie.”

Mason shoved his hands in his pockets. It’d been a while since he’d been around babies. He never knew what to do with one and didn’t feel the need to hold one. He was content with just looking. Babies harbored surprises. Usually the kind that made adults change their shirts. He followed Ray into a large family room. The rug was covered with toys and two swings took up way too much space. Mason perched on the couch next to Ray, who expertly balanced the baby on one knee. The baby continued to silently stare at Ray.

All Mason remembered about that baby’s age was his panic when Jake started to crawl. Suddenly everything in their home had become a potential threat.

Tana sat in an easy chair across from them and shifted Cora onto her lap. Ellie immediately squeezed herself into the tiny space left in the chair and eyed the investigators suspiciously. Cora grabbed at her mother’s tank top strap and pulled before Mason could look away. Tana snagged her strap and her daughter’s fist in time to avoid embarrassment all around. “Whoops.”