Michael walked slowly towards the pool. His companion – a 6-yeard-old tow-headed boy who barely reached his waist – was still almost running to keep up. Well, burning off the kid's energy was the goal, after all.
Timmy and his mother, Lisa, had arrived at FLAG late yesterday afternoon. Lisa had brought them there because she feared her husband intended to harm her son. Devon preferred FLAG to not get involved in domestic disputes. That wasn't why Wilton Knight had created FLAG. And such cases were almost always messy. But Lisa and Timmy were there in person, Lisa even asking for Michael Knight by name. Devon had acquiesced graciously, if not happily.
Michael had been away, wrapping up a case, when they arrived. He got back after dinner and was immediately put on the case. Lisa was so afraid of her husband she didn't want to tell Michael her last name. And she most certainly didn't want to discuss the problem in front of her son. All of which made Michael's job much harder. But at least he had an excuse to not write up his report on his most recent case, an excuse that Devon would have to accept.
Michael was focused on earning Lisa's trust. When she had complained about a headache mid-morning, Michael had offered to keep an eye on Timmy while she rested. The kid had asked to go swimming. Michael made a silent bet with himself that Timmy wouldn't last more than 20 minutes at the pool. A safe bet, given his energy level and attention span.
Michael was surprised to see someone else at the pool: a teen-aged girl who was sitting on a lounge chair, reading a book. Probably someone's kid sister, he guessed. He wondered if this was kid week at FLAG and he just hadn't gotten the memo. Or, he thought wryly, it was buried somewhere in his inbox that he never seemed to have time to go through. The girl looked up as Michael and Timmy entered through the pool gate.
"We're going swimming," Michael announced cheerfully, as he tossed the towels he was carrying on a chair at the opposite end of the pool. "Hope we don't disturb your reading."
Shaking her head, she quietly assured him that they wouldn't.
Timmy tugged at Michael's hand. "You don't have to be nice to her. She's a mean woman." Michael looked down at Timmy, amused that he considered a teenager a woman. Timmy explained, "Mommy and I were here yesterday. I wanted to go swimming, but Mommy wanted to go inside, and she asked that woman to watch me, but she said no."
"Well, Timmy," said Michael in the same stage whisper that the girl had clearly heard, "not wanting to watch a boy she doesn't know doesn't make her mean."
Timmy seemed unconvinced. Apparently, in his world, no one ever told him no. Which was at odds with Lisa's story about her husband being a threat to her and her son. Michael shrugged. He wasn't going to get any answers until he had a chance to speak with Lisa. He grabbed Timmy and cannon-balled into the pool with him. The boy shrieked with laughter and demanded to do it again. And again and again and again.
Michael still won his bet: 15 minutes later, Timmy decided he wanted to go for a car ride. Michael could just imagine Kitt's reaction.
"Not soaking wet, buddy boy. Let's go back, get dried off, and changed. And see how your mom is feeling." Though he hoped Timmy would settle for a game of hide-and-seek. Michael really wanted some time alone with Lisa.
As they left, Michael turned back to the girl. "Pool's all yours again."
She watched them walk back to the residential wing of FLAG, a thoughtful look in her blue eyes.