Chapter 2

At the Station

"Who we got now? New girl? "

"Nope. Chandler."

"Chandler? Which-"

"Chandler Chandler."

"No."

"Yes."

Detective Clapper tossed his clipboard onto his cluttered desk and glanced across the room to where various people waited on benches or leaned against the wall. Some were covered head to toe in dirt or filth; others were in tailored suits. These people all shared a single, common characteristic though.

Pain.

Clapper scanned the row of victims and those awaiting others quickly, searching for a familiar face. Having found none, the man turned back to the younger officer who was flipping through a thick manilla folder.

"Well, where is the kid? I haven't seen her around in awhile." The older man chuckled lightly. "Last was when she kneed…who was it, oh right… Stevens in the….-"

Clapper caught the stern look his officer gave him and asked, "What?"

Uncomfortable with the situation, Officer Laney cleared his throat and muttered, "She's real screwed up, sir. She-"

"Of course she's screwed up, kid. Chandler's always been screwed up." Clapper let out a hearty laugh, grabbed his mug, and started walking toward the coffee maker.

Laney grabbed several more folders and rushed after his superior.

Clapper continued, "Don't waste your time feeling bad for these kids, Laney. They all know exactly what they're doing when they screw things up."

John Clapper was a man who made up for his lack of height in pant size. He had thinning dark hair, a graying mustache, and watery brown eyes. He'd been on the force for over 20 years and was within a year of retirement.

"But sir-"

"But what, Laney?" Clapper watched lukewarm coffee swish into his '#1 DAD' mug. "Chandler's been in and out of the system for years. Same story over and over again. Kid gets set up in a home, kid pisses off family, family kicks kid out, and finally kid ends up on the streets where we of course have to pick them up. Social gets called, rinse and repeat. Simple as that."

Laney sighed as Clapper went on, walking back to his desk.

Officer Laney was in his early twenties and fresh out of the academy. He couldn't always understand his superior's constant pessimism but generally kept his mouth shut.

"Sure, it's not easy growing up in a foster home, but the least she could do is try. So, where is she and did you call social yet?"

Glad for finally having an opportunity to speak, Laney quickly replied, "Social's been here for an hour and she's in 1."

Clapper spit his coffee out. "Are you insane, Laney? An hour? Social has been in my building for an hour? Why the hell are they still here? And what the hell is a fuck up like Chandler sitting anywhere but out here for?"

"They don't have room at central, so she had to be placed immediately. They've been calling around for awhile, but eventually they decided to call-"

Angry now, "Why is Chandler, of all people, in my interrogation room? Is she being interrogated?"

"No, sir, but-"

"But nothing! Why-"

Just then the two men were interrupted when a very stern looking woman carrying a large binder approached. She stopped directly in front of the detective and nodded curtly. "Clapper."

Detective Clapper cleared his throat loudly. "Ah, Ms. Collins, my favorite social. Good to see you again ma'am."

"I wish that I could say the same."

Ms. Collins was a woman in her late twenties with dark blonde hair that she always wore up in a tight bun, not a hair out of place. She had cold, light blue eyes behind rectangular black frames and a tan complexion. She was a no-nonsense kind of person and everyone on the force knew it.

Switching her gaze to Officer Laney, she explained. "We were finally able to make contact. Mrs. Mercer will be arriving shortly."

"Mercer?" The detective stared at the stiff woman before him, in complete shock. "You pushed Chandler off on Mercer? She's got enough on her plate without that whack-job to worry about!"

Ms. Collins threw her most vehement glare at the portly man. "Detective! I did not push her off onto Mrs. Mercer; she offered. This woman has proved over and over again to be the most reliable caretaker in these types of …. difficult situations. I'm sure you recall a certain Bobby-"

"This is completely ridiculous. Didn't you just send her that other kid? I say all this one needs is-"

"I don't really see how any of this is any concern of yours, detective," a calm voice said from behind the group.

Clapper started at the interruption and gripped the side of his desk as he met the commanding gaze of a seemingly kind older woman.

"Mrs. Mercer, I didn't hear you come in!"

"So I see."

Mrs. Mercer was not the imposing figure of justice that Ms. Collins took the form of at first glance. She had silvery, white hair with blonde scattered throughout and normally kind blue eyes.

Detective Clapper had quarreled with Mrs. Mercer over countless incidents involving her foster kids through the years. She had been social's go-to person for hopeless cases for years and had placed the majority of them. The Mercer residence was an anomaly in the system to Clapper. He had no idea how so many punks were toned down by this kind-hearted woman.

"So, who is this girl?"

Clapper sighed loudly and Laney began to read from the file he was holding.

"Arlyn Chandler, 16 years old. Originally from New York, but was sent here to live with relatives at 10. Shortly after, she was put into the system and has been in and out of countless homes and shelters ever since. "

He flipped through multiple pages in the file. "Picked up for drug charges, school fights, and as a runaway multiple times each. She-"

"She's a misfit Mrs. Mercer!" Clapper finally exploded. "A hooligan, a trouble-maker. Whatever you want to call it! She doesn't play well with others. The girl doesn't want help. She doesn't need hugs and kisses; if you ask me-"

"Which I wasn't."

"If you ask me, what she really needs is a good kick in the ass. This kid is not one you can change, Mrs. Mercer."

With a huff, Mrs. Mercer slammed her purse onto Clapper's desk. "Well, this sounds familiar. It's no wonder-"

With a glance at the time Collins interrupted with, "Do we really need to repeat this? Ms. Chandler will be residing in the Mercer home until further notice-"

"Because that's gone so well so far."

The blonde glared down at the officer at a nearby desk. He simply sighed and went back to his paperwork,

"She will be residing at the Mercer home, and as Mrs. Mercer has said, it is not your decision, Detective. So, moving on, I'll go-"

Trying to get in another word, Clapper slammed his hand against his desk, "And that's another thing! Why is Chandler in 1? You could be holding up more important-"

"Could you stop talking for one minute! And, it's a graveyard tonight." Mrs. Mercer smiled at Collins' outburst.

More quietly, "Have you even looked in on Chandler, John?"

"No, he hasn't," Laney piped in.

"Quiet, Laney!"

"She was moved into 1 at the request of several officers and civilians. I told you she was real screwed up, sir."

Pulling her aside, the social worker told Mrs. Mercer quietly, "I'll go get her, so we can all go home."

With clicking heels marking her path, Collins headed down a side hallway that lead to interrogation rooms to retrieve the girl who had caused such an uproar among her colleagues in the past six years. Personally she was beginning to believe Clapper might be right, even if she was completely unwilling to admit it. The case had certainly given her a migraine anyway.

When the two emerged, they were greeted almost immediately with silence at the surrounding desks. The only sounds came from the front where officers were coming in from their shifts.

Laney, like many surrounding him, was careful to look down at the paperwork in his hands while Clapper stared straight out at the teenager who trailed behind Collins. His interruptions were silenced at last.

Mrs. Mercer looked sympathetic.

Arlyn Chandler was a small girl at 5'3'' or so. She wore too-large black cargo pants over black boots. Her dark gray t-shirt had something in Spanish written on it, and her knee-length black jacket was worn and faded. Long, messy black hair covered her downcast face.

Mrs. Mercer stepped forward to greet her new charge but was surprised when the girl picked up pace and, still looking down, stopped directly in front of Clapper.

After a moment she jerked her head sharply up and stared the startled man straight in the eye. "Miss me?"

At her close proximity, he quickly took one step backwards and looked disturbed down at her face.

She lightly took a step back her self and in a sarcastic tone said, "Oh, aren't you gonna give me a good kick in the ass?"

Momentarily horrified, Clapper glanced over at Collins who tiredly shrugged.

Cocking her head to the side Arlyn said, "You talk loud."

With that she turned to face the two women.

As she gave Mrs. Mercer a quick up-and-down, the older woman was startled by her quick eye contact. Expecting to meet worn, tired eyes, she was met with piercing, dark blue ones.

She expertly hid her immediate reaction to the large bruises forming on the girl's cheek and neck. There was also a small red slash, glaringly apparent against her pale skin.

Ms. Collins looked sternly down at her. "Arlyn, this is Mrs. Mercer; you're to go-"

"Where are they?"

"Excuse me?" Though annoyed at the interruption, the tired social worker was only met with a questioning glare. "I take it you mean Christopher and Ashley?"

Only a nod in response.

Raising an eyebrow, mildly surprised at the question she said, "Ashley was taken down to central right away, and Christopher is at St. Paul's. Dislocated shoulder."

Arlyn, who had been looking around the area, suddenly snapped back to Collins with a shocked look. "Why didn't you-?"

"They wanted Ashley at central, and Christopher nearly passed out. We needed to move things along as quickly as possible." Collins recited without much concern.

Arlyn looked furiously at the woman for a moment, causing Laney to stand, afraid she would strike the social worker.

Thoroughly shocked by this strange teen, Mrs. Mercer watched as she slowly adopted a blank expression. Her dark head bent down again as she reached behind Clapper's desk to grab a dull green messenger bag. After swinging it over her shoulders, completely disregarding Collins now, she turned to Mrs. Mercer and dully asked, "Can we leave now?"

After studying Arlyn's face quickly, searching for and finding no sign of emotion in her dark blue eyes, she nodded. The girl took off toward the glass entrance, and Mrs. Mercer nodded to the startled social worker and uncomfortable policemen before following after her.

With one last glance at the retreating form of the two women, Detective Clapper loudly announced, "She'll be back in three months."

A passing officer called out, "I've got twenty that says two."

A chuckle passed through the men as business went back to usual.

This time, Collins only rolled her eyes and grabbed her things, leaving for home.

a/n: that's it for now. Thanks for reading and please review.