The party was already in full swing by the time they pulled up. In the garden of the big white suburban house, Jamie could see people milling about. Music with heavy drums were blasting from the open windows. A few kids closer to the fence cheered when Billy pulled up in the little side street at the back of the house, and Billy pumped both his fists through the open window at them, in time with the music.

"Now that's a sight, ain't it, Reagan?" Billy said.

"Uh-huh," Jamie said, although the scene didn't fill him with the same joy it seemed to evoke in Billy.

The older boy fairly beamed as they moved through the crowd.

"Yes, Richy!"

A thin bean-pole of a boy with slicked back hair grinned widely at Billy's greeting.

"I knew you'd show up," he said, exchanging an intricate handshake with Billy. "Who's this?"

"Jamie," Billy said, slinging a warm arm around Jamie's shoulders. "And Jamie, this is Richy, the man of the house."

Jamie couldn't help but notice that Billy was not calling him "Reagan" anymore, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that his grandpa was the police commissioner and that he'd practically been born into law enforcement. Judging by the smell of what could only be weed, Jamie felt like he was guessing in the right direction.

Billy, still with a companionable arm around Jamie's shoulders, dragged him up the steps and into the foyer of the house. The music was spine-thumping loud, and Jamie found, to his surprise, that he was completely headache free for the first time in three weeks. Maybe he just couldn't feel it over the vibrations of the music and clamouring voices around him.

Billy pushed something into his hand, a red plastic cup, and Jamie sniffed at it. It was alcoholic, definitely. He took a deep swallow, forcing himself not to choke at the kick.

"Come on," Billy yelled in his ear. "My friends are over there."

A group of tough-looking kids were sitting in the far corner, but they didn't look twice at Jamie when Billy pulled him down next to him. A rolled-up cigarette was immediately passed to Billy and he took a long pull, his eyes falling almost completely shut. He looked numbed and relaxed when he passed it away again, and Jamie felt the slightest bit jealous.

"So, Reagan," Billy said, his eyes still closed. "I was sorry to hear about your mom, man. Mine died two years ago."

Jamie'd had no idea, but he couldn't speak past the thickness that had solidified into his throat at the mention of his mother. Billy still didn't open his eyes.

"My old man couldn't take it, you know. Looked like he'd completely died inside. That's why I started smoking, you know. Just takes it all away, makes you feel chilled out."

"It does?" Jamie asked.

"Uh-huh," Billy said. He gave Jamie an inviting grin. "You wanna try?"

"Oh God, yes," Jamie said, in a rush.

Jamie should have known that he was screwed the moment that blue, flashing lights filled the garden. Around him, it had the effect that the sudden appearance of authority usually has on teenagers at a party. One minute, everybody was laughing, drinking, smoking, dancing to the music blasting from Billy's friend Ricky's house. The next everybody was scrambling to the nearest exit. Plastic cups filled with liquid splashed on the ground, getting trampled underfoot as everyone did their best to get the hell out of dodge before the cops could actually get them.

Jamie ran too, but only because Billy had slung an across his shoulders and was dragging him along. He was in no condition to run. In his dazed state, he wasn't even particularly worried about the flashing lights and the stern voices calling out behind him. It all seemed highly amusing, stumbling along with Billy who was chortling a bit himself.

Billy was a good guy, really. Maybe not Dad's definition of a good guy, or Danny or Erin or Joe's, since he was the one who'd given Jamie the blunt that was to blame for his current state. But he'd made Jamie feel welcome at the party, had given him something to drink, had offered some of his own weed. And hadn't abandoned Jamie to the mercy of the cops. Billy was a good guy.

So good, that Jamie might have teared up a little bit, if he hadn't bumped into the front panel of Billy's Corolla just then. Billy was on the other side of the car, already opening the driver's door and he was gesturing frantically at Jamie.

"Come on, Reagan. We gotta go, man, we gotta go."

Jamie figured out to open the door and slid in, barely managing to swing the door shut behind him before Billy gunned the engine. They pulled into the main road next to the house, and as they picked up speed a siren whooped. In the rear-view mirror, he could see blue lights flashing just behind them.

"Dude, they're following us."

"Fuck," Billy said.

He took a sharp turn into a smaller street, barely missing a streetlamp, and Jamie clutched at the armrest, feeling a bit queasy. Behind them, the siren whooped again, and the blue lights danced in the side mirror again.

"Dude, they're following us," Jamie said and giggled, suddenly overcome with amusement. The cops were actually following them.

"Shit," Billy said.

He turned to look over his shoulder, which was dumb because he could have just looked in the mirrors. His whole body seemed to follow his gaze, as his left foot pressed down harder on the gas and his hands moved on the steering wheel. The car swerved sharply, went onto the opposite kerb with a jolt that made Jamie's head almost bump against the roof. Then there was a loud crash and the car jerked to a halt. In front of them, peculiarly, there was now a tree. The Corolla's nose was crumpled, and something that looked like smoke was drifting up through the twisted metal.

"Oh, no," Billy said. "Oh, no, man. We gotta go. Come on, Reagan, we gotta go."

He was already clambering out and Jamie followed suit, stumbling after him as he ran into the garden of the nearest house. They picked their way through the darkness at the back of the house, and climbed over the fence into the next yard.

Jamie stumbled slightly over a flowerbed, and then went headlong into it, smushing his face into a row of flowers. He giggled.

"Come on," Billy hissed, astride the next fence already. "Come on, man."

Jamie scrambled to his feet and came. Behind him, he heard a noise, and when he looked over his shoulder it was just in time to see someone in uniform vaulting over the far wall. He wondered who the cop was after. Not a dangerous criminal, hopefully, because Jamie had no taste for getting murdered tonight. He was still looking at the cop, and running after Billy at the same time, when he found himself stepping on air.

Split seconds later, he hit water in a sprawl that sent liquid burning into the back of his nose. The water was ice cold and about as pleasant as a kick in the nuts. Jamie scrambled for the surface, gasping for air as he cleared it.

He was suddenly, and irrevocably, sober.

The cop was standing at the edge of the pool, his arms folded over his chest. In the light from the porch Jamie could see that he was a tall Italian guy with slightly protruding eyes. The look he gave Jamie was uncomfortably knowing.

"Reagan?" he said.

"Officer?" Jamie clutched at the concrete edge of the pool, his teeth starting to chatter.

The cop offered him a large hand, and hauled him up and out of the pool.

"One of captain Reagan's kids?"

"Yes, sir," Jamie said, shivering miserably. Mostly from cold, but also from the sudden realisation that he was, in fact, one of captain Reagan's kids. God, he'd really smoked weed, hadn't he? Dad was going to lose it.

"I thought I knew a Reagan when I saw one," The cop looked positively smug. "Your dad know you're out at this time of night, smelling like weed?"

"N-no, sir." It was a stupid question, Jamie thought, but there was no way he was antagonizing this guy any further.

"Come on. I'm taking you back to the station."

"Am I getting arrested, officer?"

"I don't think so. Turn out your pockets for me?"

Jamie did, and tried not to flinch as the officer carefully patted him down, finding only the penknife Mom had given him for his twelfth birthday and his wallet.

"You don't have weed on you." He finally moved so that Jamie could see the name tag beneath his bag. Renzuli. "And I'm seriously not going to haul you up for trespassing, unless your old man insists on it. Nah, I'll just take you back to the station so you don't get any ideas about running any further tonight. Your dad can pick you up there."

Officer Renzuli worked out of the same precinct as Dad and Joe, which was just Jamie's luck. Sergeant Hochlin, who was the desk sergeant that knew him, gave a melodramatic gasp when officer Renzuli pushed him through the front door.

"Jamie, what are you doing here?"

"Picked him up at that party on 22nd, sarge. Smoking weed, by the smell of him. You figure you can put a call through to captain Reagan?"

"Dialling as we speak, Tony." The sergeant gestured sarcastically at the phone in her hand. Then she gave Jamie a sharp look. "You, young pup, sit down over there and don't move a muscle. Seriously, I thought Danny was the wild Reagan."

So Jamie sat down, behind the desk where she had pointed, hugging his one knee to his chest. Both for a little warmth, and to quell the rising panic in his chest. There was no way, no way, that Dad wouldn't notice this. And while part of him was strangely hopeful at the prospect, the larger part of him was shaking at what Dad was likely to do.

Sergeant Hochlin, after having reported that his father was coming to fetch him and, with relish, that he was spitting mad, sent officer Renzuli to fetch him a blanket and a warm cup of coffee. Which rather belied the stern glances she tried to keep sending to Jamie.

Jamie was thankful for the blanket, but he couldn't force himself to drink the coffee. His stomach was turning somersaults and his throat felt only half its normal size. He could only stare fixedly at the part of the street that he could see through the doors, waiting for Dad's car to make its appearance.

Which it did, about ten minutes later. Jamie ducked his head when he saw Dad's tall figure appear on the steps, feeling like he was going to be sick.

"Captain Reagan," sergeant Hochlin said.

"Sergeant," Dad said. His voice was very, very polite, and Jamie felt a shiver of apprehension go down his spine. "Jamison."

Dad wasn't looking through him anymore, that was for sure. Jamie almost wished he was.

"H-hi, Dad."

"Apologise to sergeant Hochlin for taking up her time."

Jamie stood quickly, bundling up the rather wet blanket. He probably should fold it, but he honestly didn't think he could with the way his hands were shaking.

"Sorry for taking up your time, sergeant Hochlin. And thank you for the blanket."

"No problem, pup." She winked at him, and pressed his hand when he walked past her. "Just don't let's meet in this way again, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am. Will you thank officer Renzuli too, please?"

"Of course."

Dad thanked sergeant Hochlin too, and then with a curt 'let's go' to Jamie, led the way out into the street. At the car he turned to Jamie, his expression unreadable.

"Why are your clothes wet?"

"I-I fell into a pool," Jamie said, unwilling to confess that it had been while running from the police just yet.

Dad's brows furrowed, but he didn't ask anything further. He just unlocked the boot of the car and rummaged around, finally handing Jamie one of the tin-foily screens people sometimes put in the windows of parked cars. He'd never seen Dad using them, and he wondered if he just kept them in the car for the express purpose of protecting his seats from wet kids. It was likely the wrong moment to ask, though, so he just lined the seat with it and sat down.

The ride home was tensely quiet. Not the deadly quiet that had bothered Jamie so much the last few weeks, but a brooding quiet that Jamie associated with Dad trying to keep his anger from boiling over. He'd had most experience with it being directed at Danny or Joe, and it was exceedingly unpleasant knowing that he was the target this time.

Once home, Dad sent him upstairs with a curt order to take a shower and change his clothes. When he got back from the shower, feeling a lot better on the outside at least, Dad was waiting in his room. It was never a good sign, and Jamie went to sit down on his bed with shaky legs.

"I'll tell you what sergeant Hochlin told me," Dad said, quietly. "Then I suggest you fill me in on everything I don't know. Comprehensively. I don't need to warn you about omission."

"No, sir."

That particular conversation, just about six months ago, when Jamie had omitted certain vital information about a school-trip to the large science-fair in the city, which hadn't in fact been a school-trip at all but an attempt of Jamie's to attend the science-fair even thought the school had cancelled, had ended in enough unpleasantness that Jamie was fairly certain that he'd remember it for the rest of his life.

"According to sergeant Hochlin, you were picked up at a party. You and a friend tried to flee the scene in a vehicle, was apprehended, and brought to the station because the officer recognised you as my son. Apparently, you smelled like weed when he got to you."

Jamie's mind short-circuited a minute, trying to think where he should start. This morning? This afternoon?

"Go on," Dad said. "I'm waiting, Jamison."

"Well…" He swallowed. "Well, yes, I was at a party. I went with a guy from school."

"Who?"

"Billy Carlotti."

"Billy Carlotti."

"Y-yes. And well, there were people smoking weed and I just, you know, wanted to try it, so I did."

"You seriously smoked weed, Jamison?"

"I-I'm sorry. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Just numbs things down a bit, you know."

"Did Billy Carlotti also smoke?"

"Y-yes."

"And you got in a car with him?"

Jamie shuffled his feet, looking down at his hands lying in his lap, and nodded.

"Heavens, Jamie."

Dad's voice sounded a bit strangled.

"You were too high to know any better, I presume?"

Jamie nodded again.

"And then you were caught?"

He particularly didn't want to tell the next bit, but he figured that Dad was extremely likely to find out about it anyways.

"Billy crashed the car. We weren't hurt, I promise, and then we ran a bit further on foot, and I fell into the pool. That was when officer Renzuli grabbed me."

"He crashed the – " Dad turned away quickly and went to the window, breathing deeply through his nose. "How did you know about this party?"

"Billy invited me."

"At school? I thought we'd told you to stay away from him."

"Well…" Jamie picked at a hangnail on his left forefinger. "I got sent home with a nosebleed today. I met Billy on the way back."

"You got sent home? Why weren't you at home when I got here, then?"

"Oh, you noticed?"

It popped out of his mouth before he could think better of it, and in a tone so nasty and sarcastic that he almost didn't recognise his own voice.

"What did you say?"

Dad turned to him again, his eyes blazing. Jamie found himself on his feet, his hands balled into fists, feeling the anger and the worry and the fear that had built up in him over the last few weeks rushing to the surface.

"I thought you didn't notice what I did anymore. Didn't seem to bother you that I showed up at half past six on a school day, so I figured you wouldn't give a fuck if I went to a party either. You just drink and read files now, remember? You don't care about me anymore, why the hell would you care that I went to a party? Or smoked weed, for that matter?"

"Jamison –"

"I hate you, I hate you! If Mom was the one alive she would have still cared for me!"

"JAMISON!" Dad said in a terrible voice. "SIT DOWN."

Jamie obeyed without even meaning to, his heart thundering in his ears. There was a peculiar expression on Dad's face, one Jamie had never seen before on anybody's face. A mixture between intense anger, and shock and somehow surprise and guilt. Jamie wondered if that was how his face had looked, except for the anger, when he had plunged into that pool.

Dad just stood there, looking strange and breathing heavily through his nose. Then he turned on his heel and stormed from Jamie's room. His footsteps hammered down the stairs, and moments later Jamie heard the back door slam. Then, a car engine roared into life. The sound disappeared into the distance.

Jamie remained on the bed, too shocked to move.