My knowledge about cop divisions is limited so if you have any advice about what Killian's Business Card should say I'd appreciate it! Thanks for keeping up with this story. My ideas for where to go with them change every day and I can't wait to see where this ends up. Thank you thank you thank you!
The calendar on the wall in the kitchen reads July 4, and Emma can't help but feel a bit disappointed. She continues to stare at the picture of a lighthouse that's supposed to signify the month of July, leaning her back against the counter as she finishes eating her cereal. Sunlight pours in through the window above the sink, illuminating the dust that shimmers and floats through the air. The house has been quiet the past three days, with Sarah holed up in her bedroom and Marco being held until today's bail hearing. August has been MIA for most of the day, but at night he always wanted to talk. Are you sure you're doing the right thing? We can always change the story. I don't want you to get hurt.
She spoons another bite of cereal into her mouth and represses a sigh. She learned long ago that she should never expect anything, but for some reason, she thought that this would be the year that she would get to see a real Fourth of July celebration. The Boothes seemed so promising, but then again, so did a lot of people. The bowl and spoon clatter as she places them in the sink.
She is quick to get ready, slipping on a court-appropriate white sundress and tan ballet flats. Lucky for her, Sarah had bought her a spare pair of glasses when she had first shown up to their home in wire frames with scratched lenses. She wears them now, but a flitting thought enters her mind that maybe she should try and invest in some contacts.
Emma had agreed to go to the hearing, but she refused to go inside. August had promised he would relay the hearing back to her and she took his word for it. The guy had one hell of a memory.
Midday, she sits on the steps of the courthouse, her legs stretched out in front of her, her arms braced behind her, face turned toward the sun. Her golden hair is half up, the skin around her eye taking on the green hues of a healing bruise, the scrapes on her skin melting away to nothing one day at a time.
Her case worker had been contacted about the assault and had shown up the following day. Regina Mills had been with Emma for majority of her life, and the woman wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy. Emma sometimes got the feeling she was more of a nuisance than anything else because she was one of the few in Regina's caseload who had remained in the system for her entire life.
Regina had showed up to the Boothe's in the morning. Emma answered the door, fresh bruises and all.
"Dear God, Emma what happened?" she exclaimed, pushing past Emma into the hallway, making herself at home as she made her way toward the kitchen. Regina sat down and opened Emma's file while Emma gingerly lowered herself into the chair across from her. She wouldn't admit it, but her body was hurting.
"Marco had been drinking and I did something that set him off, it was completely my fault."
"It is absolutely not your fault, Emma. That man has no right to touch you ever, do you understand me?"
Emma nodded, and she knew Regina was right, knew already that nobody had any right to touch her. But she knew what story she had told the police and knew she had to stick to it.
Regina went on to explain that while the court investigated the case, they would as well. She went through guidelines since Emma was old enough to understand.
"Your safety is most important to us, Emma. You know that, right?" Regina asked, all the while folding up Emma's file and putting it in her briefcase. Regina was always put together, expensive blazers and straight leg pants, red soled heels and glossy hair. That day in particular she was wearing a black button down with a silver studded collar, one too many buttons unbuttoned in Emma's opinion. She had paired it with a red pencil skirt and black, silver-tipped heels. "We're going to get this guy. He probably won't make bail, not with your injuries looking like they do. Then I'll come back to conduct investigations on whether or not Sarah is an appropriate caregiver for you until you're eighteen."
"Sarah's fine," Emma assured.
Regina nodded. "Good, I'm counting on that loser not getting bail, but like I said, we're working with the police force so I'll be around."
"Thanks, Regina," Emma replied, not really putting much gusto into her words. She had said "Thanks, Regina" more times than she could count.
With a jolt, Emma comes back to the present. She glances down at her phone and sees the text from August.
Be out in two minutes.
She stands up, brushes her dress off, and walks back into the lobby of the courthouse. The larger than life, shiny wooden doors loom over Emma while she waits across from them, hands pressed into the wall behind her.
Right on cue, the doors open to reveal August, his brow creased with worry. He rushes over to Emma while everyone files out after him.
"What happened?"
"He's going to make bail," August explains. Emma feels the floor drop out from under her and her eyes slip closed. She hears everyone join their little group, and August keeps talking. "The ADA tried, Emma. He was up there talking about how Marco is a repeat offender and has a record of abuse, that he should have his foster parenting license taken away. He even ventured to say that Marco's a flight risk because of the family we have in Italy and he wanted to keep him in jail without bail."
"I'm guessing that didn't work out too well," Emma gripes, finally opening her eyes. Her nerves are already on high alert, but noticing the way Killian was staring at her makes her stomach swoop in a way she was beginning to blame him for.
"They set bail, but kept his passport."
"That's great." Emma can't stop the disdain from coloring her voice.
"Emma, we'll be fine," Sarah interjects. Emma's eyes dart to her foster mother. She can practically feel the fury rolling off of her in waves and Sarah recoils a bit.
"Define 'fine,' Sarah," she growls. August fidgets beside her, arm brushing against hers. David takes a step forward and places a hand on her shoulder, his touch full of nothing but comfort.
"Emma, why don't we all go back to the precinct so we can discuss what's been going on with your caseworker?"
"I have to go back there anyway to pick up Marco." Sarah's voice is barely audible and it is a miracle that Emma doesn't open her mouth and scream in response. Instead, she finds herself breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
"Excuse me," she whispers before she heads back toward the door. She needs air. The minute she steps back outside she can breathe again.
It's louder out here than it was in the courtroom, the bustling city streets with distant horns and sirens, giggles from the sidewalk and yells from the park down the block. This is Emma's first time in Boston since she was a little kid, but the magic of the city isn't lost on her. Even through the noise, she can hear the footsteps approaching behind her.
"Look, August. I know what you're thinking."
"Do you now?" The voice that responds to her is not August's and her breathing starts to pick up again.
"Officer Jones," she acknowledges, turning to face him.
"Please, call me Killian," he grins. After a minute he drops the smile and becomes serious. "I'm sorry that happened in there."
She lets out an unamused chuckle. "Yeah, me too."
"I'd offer you a place to sleep in the cribs, but unfortunately that's bad form," he smirks.
"The cribs?"
"Aye, they're where we sleep if we stay at work a bit past when we're supposed to."
"I don't need to be bunking with cops," again, she adds internally. She represses a grimace as she remembers the one time when she was living in Portland and she was caught for trying to steal from a convenience store. Her foster family at the time had taken a full twenty-four hours to even come pick her up or contact Regina.
"Well, the offer doesn't really stand anyway," he shrugs. "But Emma, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call this number." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card, Killian Jones, BPD Officer, 12th Precinct, Division Two. His phone number was printed on the bottom of the card, but below it was a hand written number. "Either number, actually," he clarifies. "This one is my personal phone. I know sometimes it's –"
"Thanks." She cuts him off, taking the card and pocketing it. She's not one to accept help from unsettlingly handsome cops, even if she wants to. She's on her own, she's always been on her own.
It's quiet between the two of them after that, and she watches the way the warm breeze ruffles his hair. She feels his eyes on her bruises and scrapes and frowns.
"What's with the once over? Are you a doctor and a cop?"
He shakes his head as if coming out of a daze and says, "My apologies," but offers no other explanation. Soon after they're joined by the rest of the group.
"Everything okay?" August asks.
"As okay as it's going to be, August," she sighs. Detective Nolan motions for them to follow him to his squad car. Sarah opts to follow them in her car instead. She reaches for Emma and gives her forearm a gentle squeeze before walking away. Sarah had made Emma feel guilty from the very beginning. When she showed up to the Boothe's home, Sarah had just been released from the hospital. She had been admitted into emergency care for a full month, and even though neither Regina nor the Boothes ever really told her as much, she expected she was sort of a last ditch effort for Sarah to raise a daughter.
Emma was used to pretending. For the longest time, she had tried to be the daughter that each foster family would want. She was attentive, active, respectful, and never asked for seconds at dinner. For a while, she felt it was a privilege to even be in these families' homes. She never took advantage, until she grew old enough to realize that most of these families weren't doing this for her. They were doing it for themselves, an attempt at charity or an extra source of income. After that, Emma decided who was worth her time.
The Boothes weren't, but August was. She couldn't explain the connection they had. She'd never cross the platonic line, although sometimes she got the feeling August would be willing to. If it came to it, she'd wait until she left at eighteen, then maybe she'd contact him again.
Killian and David discuss legal business in the front seat, and Emma turns to her foster brother.
"Did she say anything?" She makes sure to keep her voice low, quieter than a whisper, but not so quiet that she has to speak directly into August's ear to be heard. He gives the slightest shake of his head. "I'm not sure she's going to be able to play along." Emma lets out a breath and her head falls back against the seat.
"It wouldn't be the worst thing," August pushes.
"I already explained this to you," she reprimands. "I won't be the reason you lose everything."
August leans closer. "I wouldn't lose anything, Emma. And you'd get to stick around."
"We'll see." His disapproving frown says it all. She rolls her eyes and gives him a light smack on the arm.
"Hey, no fighting in my squad car or I'm going to have to arrest you for real," David jokes as he glances in the rearview mirror. A smile lights up his eyes and Emma can't help but feel safe whenever she's with him.
"You've got it, detective. It won't happen again."
The smile fades from her face as soon as it appeared. Her nerves have been on high alert ever since four nights ago, and even though she was so sure in her conviction about what she was doing, she wasn't so sure she'd be able to pull it off.