Chapter 3

Kirsten sucked on the end of her pen as she studied the paper in front of her. She squinted and ran a finger down a row of numbers, double-checking to make sure the expenses added up. Another mistake caught her eye and Kirsten frowned and plucked the pen out of her mouth to make a note next to it. She was finding far too many errors in these documents—a problem she found frustrating for the lack of diligence of her staff, and at the same time satisfying. She was a numbers person. She got a kick out of discovering other people's miscalculations.

That explained, at least in part, why it was nearly two a.m. and she was still sitting at her dining room table proofreading reports. Kristen loved her job. For all the bickering with her dad and the headaches dealing with incompetent contractors, she loved building homes for people.

But that was only part of the reason Kirsten was still awake. She pinched the bridge of her nose and glanced at the grandfather clock at the far end of the room. The boys were more than 30 minutes past their curfew.

She sighed. Before Ryan had come along, Seth had never missed a curfew. He'd never even needed a curfew. It seemed unfair to blame Ryan for the boys' tardiness now, but certainly Ryan had made mistakes in the past—serious mistakes that had made her slow to trust him and wary about taking him into her home. She knew he'd make more mistakes in the future, and she worried sometimes about what that might mean for him, and for her family.

But occasional teenaged lapses in judgment aside, both Seth and Ryan were responsible kids. And Kirsten trusted Ryan now—trusted him to be on his best behavior, stay out of trouble, and keep an eye on her son. Kirsten realized that might be an unfair amount of responsibility to place on a kid, but she also knew that Ryan put the pressure on himself more than anyone.

Still, it was late, and she was becoming annoyed. With Sandy out of town for several days visiting a college buddy in Santa Barbara, Kirsten was on single parent duty. Which meant she was in charge of keeping the boys in line. Disciplining them. She hated that. She was bad at it. More often than not Seth ended up talking her out of whatever punishment she tried to exact. And she hadn't even tried to discipline Ryan yet, gladly leaving that particular parenting job to Sandy.

But if the boys didn't get back soon, she was going to have to take some action. At the very least they'd deserve a lecture. Unless, she thought, they came up with a really good excuse. She hoped they had a good excuse.

Kirsten smiled and shook her head at her cowardice. Just the thought of a confrontation with Seth and Ryan was making her uptight. She turned to her papers and stuck her pen in her mouth, letting her thoughts drift back to her work.

All evening since the boys had left Kirsten had been keeping a running dialogue in her head of the things she wanted to teach Ryan this weekend. She imagined what questions he might ask, and how she could answer them in layman's terms without insulting his intelligence. Periodically she would even jot down notes of the things she wanted to tell him.

She'd realized this evening what a new experience this was for her, to have someone who shared her passion for her work. She'd been craving that kind of enthusiasm without even realizing it. Seth wasn't at all interested in her job, and that was fine by her; he was young and still lacking direction. Sandy showed polite curiosity in her work, and that was it. He was about as interested in property development as she was in the legal system.

But in Ryan she had a captive audience. In fact, Kirsten suspected that Ryan might have preferred spending this evening with her, going over zoning laws and environmental impact reports instead of hanging out with Seth. But Ryan was nothing if not loyal, and Kirsten recognized and approved of the brotherhood that was developing between her boys.

She smiled at that. Her boys.

Kirsten had to admit that part of her was pleased at the prospect of sharing her career with Ryan because she sensed it was what they both needed to bridge the gap in their relationship. It wasn't an awkward or uncomfortable gap. It wasn't anything that really needed fixing. But the gap was there, and she was certain Ryan recognized it too. They hadn't yet developed the same easy, affectionate relationship that had sprung up almost effortlessly between Ryan and the Cohen men. Kirsten's relationship with Ryan was gentle, even loving, but cautious on both their parts. Kirsten wondered, and hoped, that the career-oriented bond developing between them might relax them both a little.

The phone rang suddenly and Kirsten jumped. She glanced at the clock again: 1:50. It would be Seth. She hoped he'd come up with a good excuse. She picked up the portable phone on the table.

"Kirsten Cohen?"

Kirsten's stomach clenched painfully at the serious voice she didn't recognize.

"Yes?"

"This is Officer Reynolds with the Newport Beach Police Department."

"Oh my God. Seth. Is he okay?"

"Yes, ma'am, he's fine. We've got your son and Ryan Atwood at the station."

"What happened? Are you sure they're all right?" Kirsten stood and walked into the kitchen, already looking for her purse and keys.

"They're fine. We picked them up this evening."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Why don't you come down to the station and we'll explain everything, Mrs. Cohen."

"I'll be right there."

Kirsten turned off the phone and stood still in the middle of her kitchen for a moment. She rubbed at her neck and took a deep breath.

The boys were going to need a damned good excuse.

Kirsten had been to the Newport police station maybe three or four times in her life—the last time at least five years ago when she had to pay an overdue parking ticket—and she missed two turns on her drive there. She couldn't focus, her mind racing between fury at Seth and Ryan for getting into trouble with the police, and fear at what had happened to them. She clutched the steering wheel and drove too fast, coasting through stop signs and burning through yellow lights.

By the time she squealed to a stop in front of the police station Kirsten was far more furious than scared. She grabbed her purse and slammed the car door behind her, punching the alarm on her key chain without pausing in her stride to the front doors. She marched up to the front desk and didn't wait for the uniformed officer sitting there to acknowledge her before speaking.

"I'm here for my son."

The officer's head popped up and he squinted at Kirsten.

"Name?"

"Seth Cohen."

"Your name, ma'am."

Kirsten might have blushed under different circumstances, but she scowled instead.

"Kirsten Cohen."

The officer looked down at his desk, nodded, and set a clipboard on the chest-high counter in front of Kirsten.

"I'll need to see some ID," he said. Kirsten opened her wallet and fumbled with the pocket where she kept her driver's license. "You're also here for Ryan Atwood?"

"Yes," Kirsten said. She handed over her license. The officer studied her photo, studied Kirsten's face, then studied the photo some more. Kirsten gripped the edge of the counter and resisted the urge to tap her foot impatiently. He put her license back on the counter.

"Okay, sign in. Someone will be out to talk to you."

"Where are Seth and Ryan?"

"Just wait here, ma'am."

Kirsten glared at the officer, then signed her name on the clipboard and put her license back in her wallet. When the officer picked up a phone, presumably to find someone to talk to her, Kirsten turned around and walked toward a pair of plastic chairs near the front doors. She didn't sit.

Kirsten pulled out her cell phone and called Sandy again. She'd already tried him four times on the drive to the police station, but got the same "out of service" message each time. She couldn't even leave a message on his voicemail. The fifth phone call didn't work either, and Kirsten snapped her phone shut with an angry smack of her palm. She pushed her hair back from her face and crossed her arms over her chest.

Several minutes passed before a new officer arrived at the front desk. He spoke quietly to the cop at the front desk, then lifted his head and looked at Kirsten. She quickly walked up to him.

"Where's my son?"

"I'll take you to him in a moment, Mrs. Cohen. He's fine, but he got himself into a bit of trouble."

"What happened?"

The officer didn't answer right away, stepping up to the counter instead to unlock a low door that led into the heart of the police station. He held it open for Kirsten and she stepped past him.

"I'm Officer Wu, Mrs. Cohen," the cop said. He didn't bother offering to shake hands, and Kirsten kept her arms folded over her chest. "Your son and Mr. Atwood, Ryan, were caught drinking and trespassing tonight."

"Drinking? Trespassing? Where were they?"

"A construction site near the Cove. They'd climbed a fence. We found them in a half-built model home."

Kirsten closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A model home. It figured. She felt a rush of angry déjà vu and dug her fingers into her sides.

"Where did they get the alcohol?"

"A liquor store. They said someone bought it for them."

Kirsten shook her head. She couldn't imagine why Seth would do something so stupid, so completely brainless. He knew better than this. He was smarter than this. So was Ryan.

"Are they okay?"

"They're fine, Mrs. Cohen. We're talking to Ryan now, but I can take you to see your son."

Kirsten nodded and followed the cop through the police station, past rows of mostly empty desks flooded with papers. An officer near the back of the main room was on the phone, having a loud, crude conversation with someone about a man who had apparently been arrested that night. At the back of the room Officer Wu turned right down a hallway, and Kirsten turned too, but not before glancing the other way. Beyond a heavy barred door, she watched a cop push an overweight, barefoot man, his hands cuffed behind him, into a cell. The man was yelling at the cop. Kirsten rubbed her neck and pulled her purse closer to her body.

They turned another corner and Kirsten saw Seth. She stopped. Her son sat on a long bench, his head bowed low, almost to his knees, so she couldn't see his face. His hand was cuffed to the bench. Her son was locked up and miserable. Kirsten felt a rush of panic.

"Seth."

He lifted his head at her voice. His face was so pale he looked faint.

"Mom," he said. She swallowed hard at the way his voice trembled. Kirsten quickly walked the last few steps to his side.

"Oh God, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Seth said quietly.

Kirsten bent over and folded him into a hug, pressing his head to her shoulder. She ran a hand over his back when she felt him shaking in her arms.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," he said, mumbling into her shirt. "God, I'm sorry. It was my fault. I just wanted to hang out. It was so stupid, we were so stupid. I'm sorry."

Kirsten crouched in front of Seth and held him away from her, studying his face. She rubbed his arms, raised a hand to touch his hair. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.

"What's going to happen to us?"

"Everything's going to be fine," Kirsten said. She squeezed his shoulders and stood. "But when we get home, you are in a world of trouble. What were you thinking?"

Seth shrugged and shook his head.

"We were bored. Chino night sounded like fun."

"Chino night?" Kirsten crossed her arms again and Seth cringed, clearly understanding that she was losing her patience. He looked down at his hands.

"In Chino, Ryan and his friends used to just hang out drinking all night."

"And he thought it'd be fun to show you how kids have a good time in Chino."

Kirsten's horror over seeing her son in jail, handcuffed to a bench, was quickly being replaced by a new fury. The blood was rushing to her face and she felt her cheeks flushing.

"No, Mom-"

"Ma'am?"

Kirsten turned toward Officer Wu.

"We need you to fill out some paperwork, and then you can take your son home."

"Do you have to keep him locked up like this?"

"I'm afraid so. Department policy."

Kirsten sighed and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Okay. Let's get this over with."

"Mom, what about Ryan? What happens to him?"

Kirsten frowned and glanced at the cop, who just shook his head. Kirsten nodded slowly and pinched her lips together in a tight line. She'd trusted Ryan. She'd trusted him to look after her son, to be the responsible one and keep them out of trouble. She'd expected too much from him.

"I'll be right back, Seth," she said, and followed the cop away from her son.

Officer Wu led her back to the center of the police station and stopped at a cluttered desk, where he pulled out a chair for her before sitting down himself. He rifled through the papers on his desk until he found what he was looking for and stapled three sheets of paper together. He handed them to her with a pen.

"Mrs. Cohen, before you get started on those, I need to talk to you about Ryan."

Kirsten looked up from the top paper. Officer Wu was leaning forward at his desk, his hands folded neatly in front of him. Kirsten set the pen down.

"I told you that your son and Ryan were taken into custody for trespassing and drinking. But we've also arrested Ryan for assault on an officer."

It took a moment for the words to register, and then Kirsten felt her breath cut short and she covered her mouth with her hand. Assault. Ryan had assaulted somebody. And not just anybody: a cop.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Ryan and your son tried to run away after we found them. We caught up to them and stopped them, and when my partner moved to detain your son, Ryan pushed him away."

Kirsten dropped her hand from her mouth and rubbed at her neck. "Ryan pushed him?"

"Yes, ma'am. We were forced to draw our weapons and restrain him, and your son, at that point." Officer Wu paused and sat up straighter behind his desk. "I'm afraid this is a fairly serious offense."

"I understand," Kirsten said, but that wasn't even close to true. She couldn't understand how any of this could be happening. Ryan had attacked a police officer. He'd been held at gunpoint. Her son—her child—had been held at gunpoint. It was the middle of the night and she was sitting in a police station trying to get Seth out of jail. None of this made any sense at all.

"Ryan is your foster child?" Officer Wu asked. Kirsten nodded slowly, not quite listening. Her ears were ringing and everything around her sounded muffled and felt unreal.

She cleared her throat. "We're his legal guardians."

"Have there been any problems?"

"How do you mean?"

Officer Wu was still leaning forward, studying her carefully. But his eyes were soft. "Since Ryan came to live with you, has he had problems getting along with your family? Have there been any incidents of violence, or inappropriate behavior?"

Kirsten looked at her hands in her lap and thought about the fights—the ones she knew about, and the ones she knew he'd never mentioned. In six months he'd suffered more black eyes and split lips and bruised knuckles than Seth, and maybe Sandy too, had in a lifetime. And she knew he wasn't blameless.

"Ryan's had a tough time adjusting," she said carefully, twisting her fingers together.

The cop nodded slowly and offered her a brief, kind smile.

"Well, we're talking with the juvenile probation department now. We'll need to determine what's best for Ryan, and your family. If there's been a pattern of violence…" He tilted his head and watched her as he let the words hang over them.

Kirsten wanted to tell Officer Wu that Ryan was a good kid. She knew Ryan was a good kid. But even in her head, the words sounded flat and baseless right now. She'd taken Ryan into her home, into her family, and she'd supported him every way she knew how, and suddenly it seemed as though nothing had changed and none of it mattered. All of her earlier doubts, her worries about Ryan, were becoming real. Ryan had gotten arrested. He'd broken into another home. He'd hit a cop.

She didn't know what to think. It felt like there was nothing she could do for him.

"Go ahead and finish with that paperwork," the cop said finally. "I'm getting some coffee. Did you want some?"

Kirsten shook her head and picked up the pen again. Coffee was the last thing she needed. She didn't think she'd ever felt less tired in her life.

As the officer led Ryan back to the bench where Seth still sat, Ryan closed his hands into fists to hide how they'd started shaking. He didn't have his watch anymore and he didn't know how much time had passed, but he thought they'd kept him in that room twice as long as they'd kept Seth. Of course, they wouldn't have had to give Seth a lecture on violating his probation, or study a list of his past crimes, or make snide remarks about model homes and arson. When Ryan told them that he only used his lighter for cigarettes, he got scolded for underage smoking. Then one of the officers actually wrote it down. Another note in his file. Smoking was the only thing Ryan confessed to, however. He knew enough to refuse questions about that night until he had a lawyer present. The officers agreed, because they had to, but they weren't pleased by his silence.

Seth was slumped down on the bench when Ryan returned, his long legs stuck out in front of him and his head leaning back against the wall. He drummed his fingers on his knee and ran his free hand through his hair until it stood out on side.

"What's wrong?" Ryan said, as the cop cuffed him to the bench again. He noticed his voice was shaking, too, so he took a deep breath and tried to steady himself for Seth.

"My mom's here," Seth said, and swallowed hard. "She's filling out some paperwork, I guess. She's, uh, pretty pissed. We're in serious trouble when we get home, dude."

"Yeah," Ryan said. "Well, we deserve it."

"I guess," Seth said. "But maybe you haven't seen my mom when she's pissed like this. It's kind of scary. It hardly ever happens – maybe, like, once a year, and Dad and I just know to stay out of the way. Too bad I don't have a pool house, too. Might come in handy for escapes."

"You can use mine," Ryan said. "If you don't track in dirt."

"I may just take you up on that offer," Seth said. "That is, unless we're grounded from each other. Would they do that, do you think? Because that would suck. It wouldn't be any fun at all."

"It's punishment," Ryan pointed out. "I don't think it's supposed to be fun."

"But we're like brothers, Ryan, and it's wrong to separate brothers," Seth said. He was sitting up straight now. "You know, family values and all that."

"Somehow I don't think your parents are going to go for that one."

"I'll work on them," Seth promised. He gave Ryan a small smile, which Ryan struggled to return, as they were joined by a pair of officers.

"All right, you're free to go," said the officer who had been working at the front desk. Ryan looked up, relief flooding through his whole body, and caught the officer's eye. The officer looked away immediately.

"Not you," he said. "Him. Cohen."

The words hit Ryan like a kick to the stomach. He couldn't move or speak, couldn't even breathe for a moment. He could only watch as the officer unlocked Seth's handcuffs, and took Seth's arm, pulling him to his feet.

"Your mother's waiting," he said. "Let's go get your stuff."

"Wait," Seth said, resisting the officer's efforts to pull him away. "Wait, what about Ryan?"

"Come on, kid," the officer said, yanking on Seth's arm.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me."

"I'm telling you it's time to go now," the officer said. "And we're going."

Ryan looked from Seth's panicked face to the cop's angry one, and he couldn't take it any more. He didn't want Seth to get hurt, and if he had to watch much more of Seth's helpless display of loyalty, he was going to cry. If he cried, he'd break down completely.

"Seth, go," he said, his voice harsher than he'd intended.

"No," Seth said, but Ryan's words seemed to weaken him, and he slumped in the officer's grasp.

When he was alone, Ryan found he couldn't fight the panic and it settled in his stomach and crawled over his skin, making him feel cold and nauseated. They might send him away. They might not let him go home. He'd failed himself, and worse, he'd failed Seth.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard footsteps coming toward him. Ryan glanced up at the approaching cop, one of the two officers who had arrested him and Seth. The cop Ryan had pushed. He stopped in front of Ryan, his face unreadable.

"We've spoken with the probation department and your legal guardian about the charges filed against you," the cop said. "It's been decided that, pending a hearing in juvenile court, you're to remain in custody. We're transferring you to the juvenile detention center."

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. He should have been preparing for this, steeling himself for the worst that could happen. But even thinking about it was unbearable. They'd spoken with Kirsten and she'd let him go. He was being sent back to juvie.

His eyes shot open when he felt the cop reach for him, and Ryan leaned away. The cop glared at him and Ryan swallowed and forced himself to still. When the handcuff was off his wrist, the cop gripped Ryan's upper arm and pulled him up. Ryan stood, dazed and numb, as the cop yanked his arms behind him and locked the handcuffs back in place.

His mind raced forward to the horrible ordeal—the humiliation, the terror, the constant anxiety—he now faced. It seemed unreal that just eight hours ago he had been safe and comfortable. His worst thought then had been the party Marissa was going to without him, and trying to find distraction in an English assignment. But no matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to come back to this place, alone and scared, his future out of his hands. This fate was inescapable.

The cop walked him through the police station, and even at this early hour it was humming with activity. Ryan could hear loud phone conversations, papers rustling, somebody typing—but the sounds seemed dulled, like they were coming from very far away. They stopped in front of a desk, where the cop escorting Ryan asked another officer about the van that would take him to juvie. Ryan felt his stomach twist and he swallowed down the panic that was threatening again. He blinked rapidly and forced himself to take in his surroundings, look for anything to make him stop thinking about what was happening to him.

At the far end of the room, near the counter that separated the station from the lobby, Seth and Kirsten were talking to the other officer who had arrested Ryan. Seth stood very still, his head bowed and his hands buried in his pockets. Kirsten clutched her purse, listening to the cop but casting frequent glances at her son. She looked exhausted. Her face was drawn and pale, and she was wearing the same jeans and sweatshirt Ryan had seen her in when they'd left that night.

That was when she had been smiling and teaching him about blueprints. He'd been tempted to back out of his plans with Seth and spend the evening hanging out with Kirsten instead. He wondered what time she'd been called, if they had woken her up with news that her son had been arrested, or if she had still been studying her blueprints.

Kirsten moved a hand to her neck. She seemed so wrong, so uncomfortable here. Ryan was torn between wishing she would look up and see him, and hoping he would never have to see the disappointment he was certain would be on her face.

And then she did look up, and they briefly locked eyes, and it was worse than disappointment. He saw nothing there. No disappointment, no anger. She looked away before he did, focused on the cop again. Ryan dropped his head and blinked back new tears.

Officer Wu followed Kirsten's glance toward Ryan, and when she faced him again he offered her a sympathetic smile. When she didn't return his smile, his face grew serious again and he stiffened, straightening his shoulders and resting one hand on the butt of his gun. It wasn't a threatening gesture, but she stepped back slightly anyway and reached for Seth, brushing her fingers against his arm.

"What will happen to Ryan?" she asked. She felt Seth tense next to her and resisted the urge to wrap an arm over his shoulders and pull him to her.

"He's been assigned to the juvenile detention center until his case is resolved. He'll have to appear before the judge within 72 hours, not including the weekend, so he'll be there for a few days at least."

Seth snapped out of his silence at that, speaking for the first time since he'd been released to Kirsten.

"What? He's going back to juvie?" Seth's eyes were wide with panic as he looked quickly between Kirsten and the cop. "Mom, do something. This isn't fair."

Kirsten closed her eyes, the exhaustion and horror of the night only now catching up with her. She hadn't allowed herself time to think about what was going to happen to Ryan. She hadn't considered that he'd end up back in juvie, even if it seemed obvious now. But Ryan had crossed a line tonight. He'd made a mistake that wouldn't easily be fixed.

Kirsten opened her eyes and glanced at Officer Wu, who raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Seth, Ryan attacked a police officer and he was on probation," Kirsten said. "He knew the consequences. There's nothing I can do."

"You can't let him go back there," Seth said, his voice hushed as though he didn't want the cop to hear their conversation.

"It's out of my hands," Kirsten said. "And you're not really in a place to make demands."

Seth looked like he wanted to say more, but Kirsten stared at him and he closed his mouth before turning sharply away from her.

"We'll be taking Ryan out in a few minutes," Officer Wu said, breaking an awkward silence. "Did you want to see him?"

"Yes," Seth said.

Kirsten shook her head. "You wait here," she said, then looked at the cop.

She knew she couldn't leave without speaking to Ryan, but she had no idea what to say to him. Her emotions were too close to the surface. She felt angry and betrayed, but it wasn't something she could yet articulate. And Ryan was smart. He would catch on to her disappointment no matter what she said.

Officer Wu nodded his head toward the back of the station, and Kirsten followed him to Ryan.

He was staring at the floor when she walked up to him. Kirsten didn't say anything for a moment, and wasn't even sure if he knew she was there. His head was bowed so low that his bangs completely obscured his eyes. With his shoulders slumped and his hands cuffed behind him, Ryan seemed unfamiliar to her. He wasn't the boy she knew. He could have been any one of Sandy's criminal clients—kids who sold drugs or mugged strangers on the street. Kids who stole cars. Kids who attacked cops.

"I'm sorry," Ryan said without looking up. His voice was flat, the words muffled, but she understood anyway. He shuffled on his feet, backing slightly away from her. Kirsten kept her voice even when she finally spoke to him. She didn't want to give him false hope, couldn't reassure him.

"I'll talk to Sandy in the morning," she said. "They say you'll have to spend a few days in juvenile hall until we figure out what happens next."

Next. Not necessarily home, her home. Kirsten wondered if either one of them really understood that. If Ryan knew how much had changed in the past few hours.

Ryan nodded.

"Is Seth-"

"Seth is fine," Kirsten said.

They stood awkwardly for several seconds, neither speaking. Kirsten rubbed her hands together. She couldn't reach out to him now, hug him goodbye. It would be too much, for both of them.

"Ryan…" she started, and he looked up at her finally. She held his gaze for a moment but soon looked away, unable to tolerate the shame she saw on his face. She closed her mouth and considered what she wanted to say to him. She hadn't forgotten what she'd seen in juvie so many months ago. She knew what Ryan was walking into, and she knew there was nothing she could do or say to make it any easier for him. Kirsten glanced behind her, at Seth, who was watching them from the other side of the counter.

"Be careful," she said, looking back at Ryan and meeting his eyes. "We'll talk to you in a couple days."

Before he could say anything she turned and walked quickly away, pausing at the counter so a cop could let her out. She slid through the door before it was even open all the way then pushed Seth with a hand on his back toward the main entrance in the lobby. Seth waved once at Ryan, and then they were outside and Kirsten took a deep breath. She tried not to think about what came next.